Torvil falls to his knees, a hand pressed to the wound, and hollers for his báshounds.
“Foolish girl!” Aowen growls loudly. “Vesper! To me!”
I let Aowen drag me away, assisting as much as I can without spoiling our show.
Torvil issues a watery shout to his second, “Help me, you fool!” Aowen cut him deep, but I doubt we’re lucky enough that he’ll die from it. “Mortis! Anguis!Follow them.”
The trees grow closer and closer together, much easier for Aowen, Vesper, and me to slip through than the báshounds. They’re caught up, ramming massive shoulders into immovable trunks, and soon, we’ve gained a several-minute advantage.
That gentle rush of water swells into a tidal bellow as we come upon a waterfall. And I was hesitant about a fifteen-foot jump from a tree? This leap looks to be at least ten times that.
“Come on, Charlotte.” Aowen pulls at my sleeve, glancing over her shoulder as trees splinter and the báshounds crash toward us. “Fuckingjump!”
I take her hand and a deep breath.
Then we plummet down through the mist into churning, freezing water.
Chapter
Fifty-Four
I’m crouched on all fours, coughing up my lungs on the bank of a shallow river. I have no idea how far down the water carried us, but I hear no báshounds crashing through the forest. We are safe. For now.
Aowen thumps my back a few times, then slumps down against a wet rock. The cut on her cheek looks nearly healed already. So are the cuts on my hands. I could get used to this quick, magical healing.
I hack a gob of spit into the dirt—so ladylike—then crawl over to Aowen and sit beside her. We’re both wheezing, thinking through our next move. To the east, the horizon pinkens, dawn less than an hour away.
Vesper nuzzles into my lap and begins peeling the remaining sap from my hands, anything the river didn’t wash away. It’s soothing, her tiny fingers picking across my palms.
“How thefuckdid that bastard find us first?” Aowen snarls.
“Maybe the smoke Vesper saw was from his group after all?”
Vesper tilts her face up, devastated and apologetic, and Aowen softens. “Not your fault. We all made the decision to head in that direction.”
“Did you see where that cloaked figure went? Torvil snuck in a third player,” I grumble.
Aowen nods down to Vesper. “Asshole stole my strategy.”
We settle back against the rock, and Aowen uses a spot of moonlight to conjure us some more nuts and berries. The river burbles in the background, and the night is warm. It’s peaceful here, in a way.
“Where did you learn to fight like that?” I ask Aowen. “Where I come from, duchesses are raised on more parlor-appropriate skills. Like needlepoint and passive-aggressive compliments.”
Aowen laughs. “Not a duchess, remember? I insisted my parents allow me to receive fight training alongside Desmond. There are women knights among the celestial ranks, of course. Not many. When I finally accepted that I would never be a leader like Des, I thought maybe I might like to be a knight. My parents were reluctant at first, but I persuaded them.”
“How?”
“I refused to bathe until they relented. By the end of the third week, even I was disgusted with myself.” Aowen snickers.
It’s nice to have a quiet moment, even in the midst of all this, to focus on something other than despair and destruction.
“How do you think the others are faring?” I ask quietly.
“Well, if I know Des at all, he’s probably losing his mind at Lachlan for allowing you two to dissolve thediamrhán. But the plan was always to get to highest ground, somewhere where he’d have the best view of the valley and could send Andraste out to hunt for you while Sabre and his knight kept watch.”
“Yes, you’d mentioned that. That you and Sabre had madeplanstogether.” I say it as suggestively as I possibly can. BecauseI intend to milk this brief respite for all its worth. And I have not teased her about him nearly enough.
“He’s …” she starts before shaking her head. “The more time I spend with him, the less I think marrying him is a terrible idea.” She exhales, long and loud. “In fact, I’m starting to think it’s maybe the best idea Desmond’s ever had.”
