It catches Emlyn first, slowing our descent. We still hit hard, pain shooting through me as I collide with the dark earth.
My relief fractures as screams fill the air. Emlyn convulses next to me, but it’s not just him.
It’s everyone.
The guards, the queen…
And Taran. He falls from his hiding spot, crumpling as a roar of pure agony rips from his throat.
My blood turns to ice. Rage burns through my fingertips, rising from the black scar stretching across the terrain beneath me.
I did that.
I swallow the horror surging within me—I can’t afford to dwell on it. Emlyn and Taran are down, as are the queen and her guards. But some are already pulling themselves up.
My heart pounds frantically as I grab Emlyn’s arm, hauling him after me. “We need to move.”
He groans, then staggers to his feet.
It’s taking too long.
The guards, struggling to stand, nock their arrows and aim their bows at us. Emlyn shoves me ahead as we sprint toward the hill. To Taran.
Halfway there, Emlyn cries out, a sharp sound that rips through my soul. He stumbles forward, an arrowhead protruding near his right shoulder, just below the collarbone.
“Emlyn!”
“Fuck,” he gasps, his face tight.
I rush back, slinging his left arm over my shoulder as I brace him with my back. My knees buckle beneath his weight, every step an excruciating strain as I hoist him up the hill. The way is clear—the guards must be keeping their distance to avoid Taran’s willbending. Agonized grunts punctuate our every move, grating against my ears. Emlyn tumbles off me as my legs finally give out.
But Taran’s there, catching him before he crashes to the ground. There’s a drip of relief before I take in his face. He doesn’t look any better than Emlyn, both their faces contorted in pain.
Except for the blood. Deep crimson seeps through Emlyn’s shirt. He’s already turning pale. But it’s just his shoulder—he should be fine if we can get him to safety. Treat the wound.
I chance a look back at the castle.
The queen stands with all her guards. Their arrows are ready, her face triumphant.
We have no cover. Nothing to protect us.
Her words don’t reach my ears but they don’t need to; it’s clear what she said.
Arrows whistle through the air. More than a dozen, flying straight at us.
In half a heartbeat, a wall of ice, larger than any I’ve summoned before, crystallizes in front of me.
The arrows freeze in place.
A soul-shattering scream tears out of Taran’s throat. Pitch-blackness surges out from the ice, charring the terrain. Grass crumbles to dust.
“Taran!” I scramble toward him.
His body spasms, veins bulging against his skin like thick cords as his muscles contract.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you!” I take his clenched fist in my hands, his knuckles white from the strain.
He doesn’t respond.
