Reyna’s arms tensed around her knees. She turned her gaze, her eyes locking on the flames. “You know what’s going on. The Ruin. It wants me dead.”
“And you’re going to let it kill you. Why?”
“Because I’m the Namhaid. I know you don’t believe it, but I am.”
“You only believe it because of what the Ruin has been whispering into your head for weeks. Did you ever stop to question it? You’ve let it get to you. It’s burrowed itself beneath your skin. Not every terrible and cruel thing it’s said about you is true. You have to fight through the storm and see the clear skies ahead. You arenotwhat the Ruin says you are.”
Reyna’s heart ached. She wanted to believe Nollaig, more than anything else. “But if it’s not me, then who is it?”
“I don’t know,” the shadow fae whispered, her words almost drowned out by the roar of the fire. “But you should take those herbs you brought with you. It quiets that voice, does it not?”
Reyna nodded. “It’s my last dose, at least until we get back to the city.”
“Well, then make it count, Shieldmaiden.” Suddenly, Nollaig’s head jerked up. Her hood swivelled to the side, and her gloved hand vanished into the folds of her cloak.
Frowning, Reyna unwound herself and stood. She gazed in the same direction, but she could scarcely see beyond the glow of the fire, much less further than that. Her ears caught nothing but the flames. Her body had grown so weak.
“What is it?” she hissed.
“There’s something out there,” Nollaig murmured as she pressed up from the ground. A bow and arrow appeared in her hands. Reyna blinked. How the hell had she hidden that inside her cloak?
“Something?” Reyna asked. “Or someone?”
Nollaig hissed as she notched an arrow. “Whatever it is, there’s more than one of them. Grab your dagger, Shieldmaiden.”
Reyna groaned as she found her footing, wincing as a sharp pain rippled through her belly. It felt like a stab, one that echoed several times over. She’d been getting those flickers of pain for the past several hours, and she knew what it meant. Her body was breaking down. She doubted she had more than a week left to live.
Lorcan hadn’t understood why she’d wanted to go on this quest. Or maybe hedidunderstand but just didn’t want to. Confronted with her looming mortality, Reyna could not just curl up and die. She had to fight. She had to do something to help. That meant gathering this army. That meant doing whatever she could to ensure Lorcan’s survival and his victory against Ulaid Molt.
She couldn’t stay still even when she was falling apart.
The Ruin wanted her to give up, which meant she had to try.
Reyna whistled for Wingallock as she whipped her dagger out from its sheath. Her owl swept down from the skies and landed on her shoulder. His talons pierced her skin; his beak nuzzled her cheek. Sparks of life shot through her body, rejuvenating her.
An arrow shot out of the mists and punched the ground by Reyna’s feet. Frowning, Reyna grabbed her blanket and tossed it over the flames. The light vanished within seconds, plunging her into darkness. Nollaig cursed beneath her breath.
“Move away from the dying embers,” she muttered. “There’s still enough of a glow for them to spot us.”
Nodding, Reyna stepped away and cocked her head, listening for any sound of footsteps. None came. It was as silent and as dark as the belly of a great beast.
Suddenly, the whistle of an arrow shot through the night. Gritting her teeth, Reyna tried to listen, letting her body move instinctively. She steeled herself and stepped to the left. The arrow thunked into the ground, coming nowhere near her face.
Reyna’s heart thumped. Wingallock’s talons tightened on her shoulder. She sucked in a breath and ducked down. An arrow whizzed over her head.
Heart shaking in her chest, she rose once more. “Thanks, Wingallock. You okay out there, Nollaig?”
There was no answer. Reyna’s stomach turned over itself. The shadow fae had blended in with the darkness after they’d doused the flames, her cloak transforming her into the night itself. Reyna hadn’t heard a peep from her since.
“Nollaig?” Reyna hissed, clenching her dagger tighter.
Surely she hadn’t been hit. She couldn’t have been. Reyna did not understand the shadow fae’s true nature, but she was too strong, too powerful, tooNollaigto go down from a single arrow shot from the shadows.
Reyna reached up and ruffled Wingallock’s feathers before slowly edging forward into the darkness. Her footsteps were silent, but her ragged breath spilled from her lungs so loudly that she swore the sound echoed across the Misty Wastes. Smoke filled her nose, choking her throat. It burned her eyes as it whorled through the ashen fields.
Suddenly, footsteps thundered to her right. She whirled toward them, her dagger raised. A figure loomed out of the shadows. Green-dyed armor flashed in her vision, and a sword arced through the air toward her head.
Growling, she ducked down, her heart lurching into her throat. Wingallock’s talons tightened on her shoulder as he barked out an agitated hoot. Reyna wrapped her arm around him and pulled him to her chest, and her dagger slipped from her fingers.
