Lucien’s face contorts. Briefly, he sits back, his wrist leaving her lips. But then something comes over him. Something acute and wild. Something real. Something almosthuman.
Venna sees it, too, and I watch as something stubborn comes back into her gaze. With her last strength, she grasps his wrist feebly, brings it to her mouth.
Blood coats her cheeks, her lips, and she drinks.
Venna’s wolf gives one last, low sound. A groan swallowed by death. Skaia’s back foot twitches, and she goes still.
There’s a wrenching gap inside me.
It isn’t just her wolf gone from the pack.
Venna’s beyond me now.
She’s right here, alive, color returning to her cheeks, but I can’tfeelher in the bonds.
My ears are ringing. Everything is numb.
“Meryn.” It’s Stark.
I let out a sob and lean back. I can’t hold myself up, and he’s there. I lean against his leg, cheek to his thigh, clinging to his ankle.
She’s alive.
She’s aSiphon.
But she’s alive.
Stark’s fingertips trace slow circles on the back of my neck. “We don’t have time, Meryn,” his voice tells me, cutting through the fog. “There might be more of them coming. They might find a way across… what you did. We need to get out of here, get her to safety.”
My vision focuses. I swallow. There are tears on my face, but I can see clearly.
“Back on your wolves,” I bark. The order for myself as much as for any of them.
Stark and Noemi move quickly. Lucien remains sitting beside Venna, a stony expression on his face, blood still dripping from his wrist where it’s resting on his raised knee.
Venna is on her back, eyes staring up at the smoky sky. Blood is smeared across her chin.
I take her hand. “Up. Get up. Now.” The words come out gentle, pleading.
“My… She…” Venna rasps. Her eyes turn from the sky toward Skaia.
She lets out a cry that will haunt me for the rest of my life and I almost slide back onto the ground with her.
What if it were Anassa lying there? What if she’d been cut from me and I’d been severed from my entire pack by a single arrow?
What if I were no longer Bonded?
My instinct to use pack authority to get her on her feet is like salt ground into a raw wound. It won’t work any longer. Not on Venna.
Venna rolls over weakly, reaching for Skaia, just barely touching her tail. My vision focuses on fur matted with blood.
It’s cruel how lively her gray fur looks, dancing in the wind but tethered to a corpse.
I take Venna’s outstretched hand and pull her away from her wolf. She screams as if I’m killing her. I drape the arm over my shoulder and use my legs to pull us up.
My world feels as if it’s coming apart at the edges, and even still, I have to keep us moving.
She made her choice. I need to do my part and honor that by making sure westayalive.
