He had an arrow pointed at my mate. In the trees above, Boudica screeched.
“Run, Tessa,” Kalen murmured, his hands tensing by his sides. He was itching to reach for his sword, I knew, but he wouldn’t be quick enough. Not with a storm fae’s arrow ready to fly. I had to remind myself the blow would not kill him. He was fae, and it would take more than a single arrow to steal his life away. That, of course, did not mean I would abandon him.
I held my hands up before me and narrowed my eyes at the storm fae. My fingers were still unbound, free of the gloves. Not that it would do either of us much good. I might have become proficient in destroying flowers and grass but nothing bigger than that. Certainly nothing as strong as a storm fae.
“She isn’t running away from this, and neither are you.” The storm fae jerked his chin in the direction we’d just come—the direction of the enemy war camp. “So start walking.”
“No,” Kalen said in a low growl, his voice lethal and dark.
The storm fae narrowed his gaze, his arrow still trained on Kalen’s heart. “We have orders to keep the girl alive, but he said nothing about you. So you can come with us, or you can die. It’s your choice.”
“Are you one of Owen’s?” Kalen asked.
“None of your concern.”
“Does he know who holds the storm fae throne now?”
The fae before us huffed. “Toryn fled his kingdom. The throne is not his. It’s ours now. And we fight for the gods.”
I’d noticed this storm fae didn’t wear an onyx gemstone like the others, at least that I could see. And that strangeness in his distant, hooded eyes made him look like he’d lost his grip on whoever he used to be. Oberon had looked like that, right at the end. When he’d been screaming and running through the mists.
“He won’t let you have it. Toryn, I mean,” I called out.
The archer flicked his gaze my way. It was a momentary lapse, just a tiny break in his concentration. But it was enough for Kalen to draw his sword and duck.
The King of Shadows moved with speed and dexterity. He moved like wind, like smoke, like the very mist itself. One second, he stood beside me. The next, he’d ducked in beneath the enemy’s arrow and shoved his blade right toward his gut.
But the storm fae danced back and whipped a dagger from his belt. The blades clashed together in a furious frenzy. I sagged in relief even as my hands itched to help. Kalen was an extraordinary fighter. All the years he’d spent avoiding his power, he had trained and trained until he became a whirlwind of brutal steel that could take down a dozen shadowfiends at once.
And so I did not fear for him even as the storm fae slashed his blade at Kalen’s face. The King of Shadows met the enemy’s blow with his powerful sword, and then he shoved him back.
Hands wrapped around my waist, and I was suddenly hauled from the leaf-carpeted ground. A sharp cry of alarm ripped from my throat as I twisted against the strong arms that yanked me to his chest. But his grip was tight and firm, and now he was running, fleeing through the woods toward the war camp.
Kalen’s roar rent the quiet night. And through the bond—through that strange, overwhelming connection we shared—his fear punched me so hard it took my breath away.
Tears filled my eyes from the rush of his terror and pain, and instinctively, my hand stretched out toward him. But I could not see him anymore. The mists swirled in from the darkened sky and coated the woods.
“Tessa!” he shouted, his voice rough and raw. Steel rang only a second later as the archer kept him locked in the fight.
Everything within me screamed to get back to him, if only to stop his pain, if only to soothe the fear that rattled through us both, making it difficult for me to focus on anything but the force of nature threaded to my soul, to my heart.
“Let go of me,” I snarled, twisting to face my captor at last. His yellow eyes gleamed in the dark, and his pale ginger hair was plastered to a sweat-drenched face. When I tried to wrench free, he clutched me more tightly.
With the shadows pulsing around us, it was impossible to tell how close we were to the war camp where hundreds of shadowfiends readied themselves for the upcoming battle. Shadowfiends and wraiths and more storm fae, all under the thrall of the gods. When Kalen and I had scouted the camp, we hadn’t spotted Sirius, but he was likely there, too. And if this fae took me into that camp, I knew I’d never escape. Me against hundreds…those were impossible odds, even if my power obeyed me.
But one…one I could handle. I hoped.
Bracing myself, I shifted my head to the side and clamped my teeth on the enemy’s arm. The storm fae flinched and loosened his grip. I knew it didn’t hurt him, but the element of surprise was enough for me to wriggle out of his arms. I fell to my knees, my hands catching me before my face collided with the ground.
My power seeped out of me, and dust consumed the grass.
“You fucking bitch,” the storm fae spat, striding toward me with a snarl. “I should rip off your head for that.”
“But you won’t. Andromeda wants me alive.” Steadying my breathing, I rose to my feet. The storm fae was only inches away now.
He narrowed his eyes as I curled my hands, and then he reached for me. I danced back, light on my feet, even as Kalen’s distant roars shook through me. He was still in the middle of a fight. There must be more of the storm fae in the woods. They must have surrounded him to distract him long enough for this bastard to steal me away.
But I was not a damsel in distress. I could not bestolen. Not anymore. I would be like the women in the novels I read, those brave souls who found the strength within themselves to fight back.
