I was about to drop my bow and light the flare that signaled defeat.
“They’re quite something, aren’t they?”
A deep, rough voice with a melodic accent came from the shadows to my right.
Spinning on my heels with an arrow drawn, I found a tall hooded form approaching, seeming to slip from the shadows. Ash-blackened fingertips pointed down at the flaming horses approaching.
How the hell did he get up here?I was so very screwed.
Behind him, Elsedora trailed from the shadows. They both wore dark rust-colored robes with a rattling serpent symbol embroidered across the chest. A symbol of the Wastelands, perhaps.
“Elsedora,” I greeted calmly, not dropping my bow but knowing that between myself and the two of them, I didn’t stand a fucking chance. “And your friend?”
The man lowered his hood to reveal dark stubble across a strong jawline, dusky skin and a striking grave expression—he wasn’t the type of man I imagined ending me. I’d never thought I'd stare down death and find him attractive, but this grave, harsh-looking man was admittedly stunning.
His face was hardened into an effortless glare. He seemed to have permanent frown lines, and his dark brows creased downward.
“Krait Darvanda.” His voice was gruff. My bow lowered only slightly in surprise. “Yes, the wisest choice is to lower that. Andlook.”He pointed out to the battlefield below. Men were dying below, and he looked sadistically amused.
Fucking pig.
The last Brennac King himself had come to see our downfall.
I should have known no good would come of having Asterie request his aid.
What did I expect from the man responsible for killing my Phynnic ancestors?The man had obliterated the city of Phynx centuries ago—his troops had mercilessly attacked with Vangard on that world-shattering night.
I’d thought for sure after hearing Elsedora’s thoughts that we had a common enemy.
It took fighting every instinct to peel my attention away from Krait and Elsedora and glance over the wall. I braced for the bloodshed of my men. But the flaming mounted soldiers were fightingalongsidethem.
The Warhorses and the Central Corridor troops worked to fight back Firose’s men. Only then did my bow lower completely; the wooden grip fell from my white-knuckled grasp, and the weapon clattered against the stone.
They weren’t here to end us. They were here to help. It had worked.
I could have laughed. I could have cried. I did neither—I just stood there with my mouth agape and watched what felt like a miracle unfold below.
In my peripheral vision, I saw Elsedora whisper into Krait’s ear, setting a hand on the King of the Wastelands’ shoulder with familiarity. She didn’t seem to fear him, and he gripped her fingertips momentarily before he nodded.
The cold sting of fear escaped Elsedora’s mind despite her confident strides toward the wall.“Fen, please be okay. Please be okay.”Her thoughts echoed on panicked repetition.
“Be careful,” Darvanda barked. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Elsedora smirked as she bounced over the battlement with defiance. “Oh, where is the fun in that?”
“Wait—” I held up a hand to stop her. “Fenris is okay. Or he was just minutes ago.” I could feel the relief ricocheting off her like a wave of warm water rushing over my skin. “But Asterie isn’t—and he’s gone after Firose. I lost sight of them in the fray.”
Elsedora nodded a brief thank you before quickly sliding down a drainage pipe.
No words found me as she disappeared over the wall, leaving just me and the King of the Wastelands. The King of a forbidden realm—of shadows, nightmares and all the things we’d been warned against letting in because they wouldruinHenosis. Yet here he was, helping to keep it whole.
“Why?” I asked.
Iron gray eyes met mine. There was no kindness there, just cold calculation and underlying amusement as though none of this mattered to him. Even more reason to make me wonderwhy.
“I received a message from an enchantress that made a compelling offer.”
Standing as tall as Emmerick, he didn’t carry the same muscle mass, but hefeltlike raw power, like darkness and shadows.
