“I don’t recognize this person,” Taran says, his voice low. “Stay behind me. Be ready to run if you need to.”
My next inhale dries my mouth as I look around. The path nearby is busy with fae, but not so much that I’d have trouble getting away.
Taran slowly opens the door. “Who’s here?”
He steps cautiously inside, and I follow, my eyes locked on the stranger.
“Look out!” Taran whirls around, grabbing my arm.
In the next instant, a force plows into me from behind, lurching me into Taran’s chest. The fae sitting at the fire flies toward us, slicing at Taran with a long white knife. Taran dodges as I go sprawling to the floor. He pulls out a dagger and swipes at his attacker’s side.
Two more fae burst into the room from outside, slamming the door behind them. I scramble away, colliding with the wall behind me. One newcomer goes straight for Taran, interrupting his attack on their friend, but the other grabs me by the front of my coat and smashes me hard against the wall.
“This must be the mortal,” he sneers.
One incantation—just one—and I could save myself. It’s right there, on the tip of my tongue.
But Taran forbade it. He’d never forgive me if I did.
I grab the fae’s arm, but I can’t make it budge. I kick and squirm, and he laughs. All the strength I’ve gained from my months of drills means nothing—I’m going to die, before I ever knew what it was like to live.
He pushes harder against my chest, and I gasp for breath. My lungs are screaming, begging for air.
The curved lines of a focal form in my mind.
His grip on me slackens, and the incantation evaporates before completion.
He coughs up blood. Taran pulls his dagger out of the fae’s throat, blood splattering where it pierced a pale tattoo; two twisting paths of curves and sharp angles, reminiscent of antlers.
He falls to the ground, gurgling.
That was too close.
Taran whips around as another fae lunges for him, colliding with a small table as he spins out of the way. The knife finds his leg, and he cries out before throwing his body into his opponent, knocking him to the ground.
He drives his dagger into his enemy’s heart.
I scramble over as he falls back, panting heavily.
“You’re hurt.” My hands shake as I scour his leg, searching for the source of the blood.
This is my fault. If only I’d been able to defend myself.
“I’ll be fine,” he says. “Try to calm down.”
“How can I calm down? They tried to kill us! There are dead bodies everywhere!” And blood. Deep crimson, soaking into the floor. Into my skin. It’ll never wash out.
“You’re safe now.” Taran takes my hands. “I’ll take care of it. It’s not the first attempt on my life.”
He stands, grimacing as he puts his weight on his injured leg. Then he guides me toward the fireplace, past some floating, glowing orbs I didn’t notice before, and onto a soft rug away from the blood.
My head shakes uncontrollably. “No, I need to help. You’re hurt.”
“It’s only a cut, Ellie. I’ll be fine. Just breathe.” He sits beside me, resting his hand on my shoulder.
I try, but my lungs won’t fill. Tears stream down my cheeks.
Taran tilts his head until he meets my eyes, the warm light of the fire and orbs illuminating his face. “Are you hurt?”
