I smile with satisfaction. I’ve gotten much better at that.
“You ready?” I look to Stark.
His stubbled jaw is clenched tight, eyes ablaze. “Never more so.”
We let our minds meet, then. It takes only the blink of an eye, and then he’s with me and I’m with him. Our hearts beat together, our lungs breathe together.
I bite my lower lip, and I know he can feel its softness as if it’s his own teeth biting down. Just the thought makes my heart skip a beat.
We lock eyes as we call up our shadows together, Stark guiding the power into dark ropes of magic that loop around him and Cratos again and again, until they’re bound tightly.
We ease both their bodies to the forest floor, using the magic to cocoon them and lift them slightly off the ground. We’re hoping to avoid slamming them into every rock and root between here and our enemy’s camp.
Just as with Noemi, I spend time sitting with the magic, eyes closed. Lingering with the threads of it, the weave of the shadows as they settle in place. When I’m certain I have the feel of it, Stark and I separate minds once more, easing apart.
Before we get moving, I can’t resist sliding down Anassa’s side and kneeling beside Stark’s body, taking his face in my hands for one more kiss.
There’s shadow between our mouths, a showy gag made of magic that Stark and I so carefully put in place to be obvious but not restrictive. It buzzes and pulses against both our lips. I swipe my tongue along Stark’s lower lip, and he uses a tendril of his own magic to bring my head closer to his, crushing our mouths together.
I groan at the sensation of the press of our shared power and his hot mouth.
He raises an eyebrow, managing to look nonchalant even in this vulnerable position.“I think you like me all bound up like this.”
I snort. “Don’t die, and we can give it a try later.”
We make a dramatic sight, me riding cavalierly straight into the camp of my enemy on my shining silver-white wolf. Thick, wild tendrils of shadow pulse behind me, anchored to the magical restraints around Stark and Cratos. The deep black of the shadows creates a disorienting texture against the ink-black fur of Cratos’s coat.
I half expect a challenge from the human soldiers posted on watch, but they just gasp and back away when they see us coming, leaving plenty of space for me to march in with my vicious cargo.
Killian must have told them to expect me.
The paths between the tents are wide and well trod, already traversed by wolves and their riders. As we move farther into the mess of tents, we start to spot the Bonded and their direwolves; they’re camped in groups of two and three, tents spaced out enough that their wolves can sleep in the open air beside them.
Anassa’s ears go back, teeth half bared in a snarl, as she passes the wolves of Phylax pack, wolves she’s known for decades who’ve now spent more than a month supporting a Siphon pretender.
I study the Phylax Bonded and notice that many don’t meet my eyes. Shame over what they’ve done? Fear of the Mad Bitch of Sturmfrost, who can rip them apart with a mere gesture?
Or is it Killian’s influence over them that keeps them from meeting my gaze?
I turn my face ahead.
Across my body is a satchel I’ve strapped tight to me, its prominent position an obvious signal that I’ve brought the Tears with me. My crown is on my head, and the two Tear necklaces are securely around my neck, tucked beneath my tunic and coat.
Lucien’s crown and the Tears from the tower and the statue in Linsfall are wedged into the pack, and the buzz of energy from their combined power sets my teeth on edge. I’m waiting until they’re needed to pull them out, but my hand doesn’t stray far from the pack’s drawstrings.
My bag with the shards of the Dire Blade is with me, too, mostly because I wasn’t sure what else to do with it. Maybe I can get out the useless hilt and clobber Killian over the head with it, I muse darkly.
“Noemi,” I reach out mentally, mind stretching down the familiar pathway.“Are you in place?”
There’s a strange blankness in my mind where she should be, and I swallow, focus on keeping my face an impassive mask.“Stark, Noemi isn’t responding.”
His body tenses in the shadowy restraints.“What do you mean, she isn’t responding? Is she injured?”
“Let me try again.”I steady my breathing and reach out again, forcefully this time.“NOEMI.”
For another minute of painful waiting, there’s nothing, just that blankness. And then…
“Meryn, I’m here,” comes her familiar voice in my head, and I let out a small sigh of relief. “Everything is going according to plan,” she confirms, and I thank her and relay the message to Stark.
