Whistling death, hurtling right for him.
“Zevayr!” I shout, bolting through the underbrush. He freezes, eyes wide as they land on me. The rebels swivel their heads. One of them pivots, heading my way and—
It happens so fast.
The arrow finds its mark. Searing pain erupts in my side.
A burning punch to my ribs.
A flash of heat. Then cold.
My breath shudders out of me as I crumple to the ground.
The color drains from Zevayr’s face, his gray eyes panicked. I blink, and he’s the Dark Commander, his expression contorted with violent wrath.
He roars, and the sky rumbles in response. The man closest to him has no chance as Zevayr shoves his sword clean through him.
I don’t understand what happens next. I thought he’d summon lightning and incinerate them.
He doesn’t—but the men die anyway.
The air crackles.
One by one, the menvibrate, pained, garbled groans escaping stuttering mouths. The stench of smoke and metal wafts through the air, and the sizzling grows louder.
Their bodies jerk unnaturally, like puppets with snapping strings.
One man falls to the ground, dead.
The others follow.
There’s a loud thud—the sharpshooter falls, too, his body crashing to the ground.
I try to breathe, but my lungs won’t obey. Zevayr’s face, feral with rage, blurs out of focus before the darkness swallows me whole.
Chapter Sixteen
“Mayah.”
I groan.
“Mayah.” Zevayr’s voice is insistent, close. “Wake up.”
My eyes flutter open. We’re moving. I’m cradled against his chest, and each frantic step jostles the arrow embedded in my side.
“We’re far enough,” he mutters, glancing behind him. “Let’s get that arrow out of you.”
The sun is just beginning to set, and its waning light casts long shadows in the small clearing where we’ve stopped. He gently sets me down, propping me against a thick tree trunk.
“Drink.” He presses a canteen to my mouth, and I gulp the water in deep swigs. “Easy,” he murmurs.
I wipe my mouth, panting. Tides, ithurts.
“I’m going to break the shaft before I remove the arrow. Then you can heal yourself.”
I nod, and even that slight movement has me wincing.
His fingers find the shaft near the base, bracing it against his palm.
