He grimaces, curses rolling off his tongue. “Trolls. They’re barely capable of logic and completely incapable of morals. Which means you don’t have time to wait for my Shadow.” He lunges out of the frame and reappears a moment later, not bothering to hide the gyre in his hand. Already, its light flares, its rings humming to life…
“No!” A scream rips from my throat. “You can’t…” Panic scrambles my thoughts, but my mouth keeps moving, keeps making words. “You can’t come in here. If you die, then so will your Shadow. He won’t be able to save me. You’ll both be gone, and these things will do whatever they want to me. They’llkillme.”
That hits him right in the chest. He flinches back, the light of his gyre dimming. “Fuck,” he bites out. “Fuck.”
He sweeps a hand over his face, his shoulders heaving. But, for all that terror still chews apart my insides, the sick feeling in my belly uncurls a little.
At least Amriel won’t sacrifice himself right in front of me.
He gasps his way through a few more breaths. Then something…happens. His shoulders lower, his hand falling from his face. Something steals over him, a deadly sort of calm.
“It’s going to be all right,” he says, his voice steadying. “I’m going to make it all right.”
I stare. And suddenly understand, with vivid clarity, why we lost the war. How the fae managed to kill so very many of us.
Because I’m no longer looking at my panicked mate. I’m looking at a commander right now. A king.
One who’s clearly done this before. Or something like it, at least.
“I want you to listen, all right?” His tone doesn’t waver from that reassuring frequency. “Tell me what you hear. Right now.”
I suck in a breath, my ears straining. My captors shout over one another while birds settle in for the night, but nothing else breaks the stillness. “The trolls,” I croak. “Birds.”
“Anything else?”
“No, that’s it. What am I listening for?”
“Just wait.” His tone remains even. “We’ll try another door. Give us a second.”
I stare into his eyes. His beautiful, soulful, steadying eyes. Why did I ever think they looked dead? They don’t. They burn like stars, ones I can steer by. And somehow, that’s not just Amriel looking back at me right now, butbothof them.
“How about now?” he says.
A faint roar fills the distance.
A sob rushes up my throat, exploding from me in the form of wet, wobbly words. “Yes. I hear him. I hearyou.”
“Where? Which direction?”
The roar echoes again. “Right. To my right.”
“And you’re facing the darkest part of the sky?”
“Yes.”
Another roar splits the evening, sharper now. “Is that closer?”
“Yes,” I say on the edge of a gasp.
“Four minutes. Maybe three. Then we’ll be there.He’llbe there. Can you last that long?”
I take in my situation. The trolls’ quarrel has settled. The bleeding one now sits propped against a rock, clutching at its nose, while the other three watch me.
The one with my knife cackles. “Look. The pretty’s talking to itself.”
They laugh.
“Maybe it’s trying to pray,” says another.
