“Then why are you so afraid all of a sudden?”
She threw her axe at him. Devyl caught it in his hand, kissed it, and hurled it back.
His reward was another shrill shriek. And he knew this was a ruse to buy Vine more time. Every second that passed was critical for Mara.
They all knew it.
While his cousin led in his own attack, Devyl gave the signal to his crew to renew their battle with everything they had. He hated to leave them, but he had no choice.
For the first time ever, he understood the Deruvian code—that one life was indeed far more precious than all others combined. Aye, it was that very selfishness he’d once hated Vine and her entire Vanir race over.
Maybe he was more Vanir than he wanted to admit. But right now, nothing mattered to him.
Nothing except Mara.
The world could burn for all he cared. Without Mara, it didn’t deserve to be here.
He could hear his heartbeat thrumming in his ears as he left the field of battle to teleport to Tiveden.
No sooner had he materialized on the side of the tallest hill than he drew up short to find his ex-wife in all her fiery glory. Right down to the orange and red dress that appeared to move like living flames in the fading sun.
“You’re too late,” Vine gloated the moment she saw him. “I’ve planted you here and here you will stay.”
His knees went weak at her declaration. “You didn’t plant me here—’twas Mara’s harthfret you stole.”
She paled. For a moment, the black veins left her skin as confusion lined her brow. It was obvious she was trying to discern whether or not he was lying. “What?”
“Had you asked, I’d have gladly given you mine to keep her safe. You should have known that, Vine. I always protected Mara over anyone.”
That had the desired effect on her. She let loose an insane cry before she started toward him.
Yet before she could reach him, the ground on the hill began to tremble and boil. Like a living, starving beastie, it rose and fell, and percolated with such force that Vine squealed and danced away from it.
Half expecting something foul to emerge out of the chaos, Devyl stumbled and barely caught himself before he went sprawling.
“What have you done?” Vine gasped accusingly.
He shook his head as he struggled to comprehend it. Never had he seen the like. “Nothing. That is not me.”
Smoke billowed up in sharp, inky black spirals. They danced in an invisible breeze until they began to slowly twine about and take the shape and form of a woman.
Devyl held his breath, praying silently for a miracle.
But to his utter disappointment it wasn’t Mara they formed.
The shape was too short and flat about the bosom to be his better half. Yet there was something vaguely familiar to that outline. Something that wiggled in the back of his mind.
Suddenly, he knew exactly why.
Nay … this could not be.
It’s not possible.
His breath catching in his throat, Devyl froze as shock claimed him fully. And still there was no denying the woman who manifested in front of them.
“Elf?” His voice shook with uncertainty. “Is it really you, lass?”
Like a newborn fawn, she worked her face as if trying to remember how to speak. How to see. She stared down at her hands and wiggled her fingers, then scowled at Vine.
