Kjeld dug his boots into the solid ground and stumbled to a panicked halt.
Grim lighting showcased a scene of absolute devastation. Caelian was curled inside the nest, clutching one silver egg toher chest, her hair and body splattered with streaks of crimson. Her gown was mutilated, shredded to pieces. A deep cut sliced across her stomach, and a gash tore the flesh of her upper thigh. Her eyes were closed, her color was fading, and the rise and fall of her chest was almost too slow to bear. Dagger-like thorns protruded from every direction, as though the earth itself sought to steal the life from the eggs, Astrylys, and now Caelian as well. It looked as though she tried to free the dragon eggs with her bare hands but had only been able to reach one of them. Twisted vines pierced her flesh, and as Kjeld stood in the deafening silence, the steady beating of her heart began to wane. She was losing too much blood.
Dying.
The word blared through his mind at the sight before him, and he knew it to be true.
Caelian was dying.
Astrylys was dying.
Corrupt magic slithered through the hollow throat of the cave like a serpent. It crawled up the walls, leaking from every crevice. Murky and thick, it swirled. Swarmed. In the darkness, Kjeld could sense it mocking him. Taunting him.
Rage fueled him, it boiled through his veins like an inferno. He gritted his teeth, staring into the faceless void of nothingness where the vile energy lurked and seethed. Only once had he come across such a ruthless kind of power, a faceless force that was composed of the impure and polluted. It happened during Novalise and Asher’s wedding, when the earth was manipulated by tainted, foul magic, when nature turned into the most vicious version of itself.
Blind fury engulfed him.
Kjeld reached behind him and pulledKaldflamfrom the leather strap on his back. Hoisting the axe high in the air, he lunged forward, but then the icy grip of a hand grabbed hisshoulder, hauling him back. He spun around on his heel, crazed with vengeance, only to see Drake and Creslyn emerge from the shadows.
“Be mindful of the iron.” Drake’s tone was clear and clipped, laced with warning. “Do not let it touch Caelian’s skin.”
Kjeld nodded sharply, tightening his grip on the carved handle of his axe.
Then he launched forward, hacking at the heinous vines, his muscles burning with each stroke of the weapon. Ripples of impenetrable darkness poured from Drake, and a storm of bursting sunbeams whipped around Creslyn in a magnificent sphere. Golden light melded with the sinewy shadows of night, and when her gaze latched onto her bloodied twin, Creslyn’s magic magnified. Imploded. Streaks of radiant sunbeams blasted past Kjeld, turning the entrapment of thorns and vines to dust.
“Get her out of here,” Creslyn commanded, her voice low. Deadly. “Now.”
Kjeld didn’t hesitate, he leapt into the nest and gathered Caelian into his arms. The egg she’d been clutching rolled from her weakened grasp. He hated the way she didn’t fight him, didn’t thrash or smack at him. She was limp. Near lifeless. Her head lolled against his shoulder, and her arms hung listlessly. For one fearful moment, Kjeld thought she was already dead. But then he caught the faintest thump of her heartbeat. Cradling her against his chest with one arm, he kept his axe firm in his grip with his free hand and climbed from the nest.
Drake unleashed another surge of smothering darkness upon the corrupt magic. Ribbons of night unfolded, devouring the threads of evil. He nodded toward the mouth of the cave. “The cabin. Stop the bleeding first, then call for a fae healer. Creslyn and I will take care of Astrylys and the eggs.”
Understanding there was no time to waste, Kjeld tucked Caelian into him and took off. He rushed down the mountainside with her clutched against him, knowing every second, every heartbeat, counted against him. Frigid wind slammed into him as an early spring storm rolled in from the east. Bleak clouds blanketed the sky, shrouding the bright blue and coating it in shades of gray. Thunder rumbled in the distance, splitting through the heavens like crashing boulders. Spears of charged lightning splintered between the mountain peaks, and cold rain pelted down from the embankment of clouds like shards of ice. Doing his best to protect Caelian’s body with his own, Kjeld sheathed his axe and curled her into him as he bolted into the forest.
The thick overhang of branches and leaves offered him some respite from the sudden rainfall, but already Caelian’s body was chilled to the touch. Her skin had paled considerably, and her lips were almost blue.
Kjeld surged forward, his muscles burning with each hastened step. He had to make it back to his cabin. He had to stop the bleeding. His footfalls carried him swiftly over the forest floor, kicking up leaves and debris in his wake. Kjeld knew his speed was unrivaled. Unmatched. Yet still he felt he wasn’t moving fast enough. Like he was going to be too late.
Finally, his cabin came into view.
But relief evaded him.
Kjeld shoved through the door and slammed it behind him. Rushing toward the bed, he gently laid Caelian upon it, and his heart seized. No, it stopped completely. Dread curdled in his gut, and the violent crush of agony made it impossible to breathe.
Sticky, scarlet blood coated her thigh and abdomen. Scratches from the thorns that looked more like angry claw marks ravaged her arms and legs. She was pallid, her skin far too pale, like that of a spirit leaving this world. Her silvery hair withits shimmering highlights was dull and matted with dried blood, the muted strands tangled around her. Her lips were parted, but air barely scraped through them, not enough to fill her lungs. He watched in raw silence as her chest rose and fell in a shallow motion, held his breath, praying to the old gods to allow her heart to continue to beat. Thick lashes fanned out against the ashen flesh beneath her eyes, and Kjeld bit back the urge to scream in fury.
Seeing her like that made him realize for the first time in his life what it truly meant to know fear.
He cursed, swore to himself in a bout of unfathomable anger. Frothing and steaming, ready to overflow, his wrath churned with the cold stab of guilt. The one that told him, reminded him, this was all his fault. If he had kept his mouth shut, if he hadn’t been such a fucking asshole to her, then she never would have left. She would’ve had no reason to flee into the mountains, to run away from him, to put as much distance between them as possible.
It was like some sick joke. Because that’s exactly what he’d been trying to do on his own. He wanted to stay away, to flee her constant presence. But then she showed up at his cabin looking like temptation wrapped in silk and lace, and he hadn’t been able to control his temper.
Now she was dying on his bed.
And it was all his fault.
Kjeld blinked hard, then shook his head, clearing out the traitorous thoughts. He had to focus on saving her. He had to stop the bleeding.
He moved in unison with the lightning scattering through the dense clouds outside, grabbing towels, using linens as bandages, filling the sink with warm water from the faerie pool. Back and forth, he sprinted through the house and into the forest, gathering any necessary supplies to save Caelian’s life. Hegrabbed bundles of calendula and chamomile, desperately trying to recall if any of the herbs growing outside the cabin could help with the clotting of wounds.
