“She doesn’t want me to,” he said defensively. “It’s the least I can do after…”
“After you broke her heart,” I said when he trailed off.
He gave me another cold look. “Am I to believe things are going well with The Huntress after the wedding?”
“Don’t.” I raised my open palm, unflinching. “You and your secrets are the reason I have endangered my relationship with her.For the good of the Blood Brotherhood.”
His gaze dropped.
“And now you’re asking me to not rush home when I know my people are in danger–” When Allie was in danger. “–and to carry on fighting while half of me dies with guilt. Don’t, Zandyr. This can only end badly.”
We stared at each other, two of Malhaven’s fiercest fighters caught in a battle neither could win. Because winning would mean the defeat of our friendship.
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said at last and pinched the bridge of his nose. “If you can’t communicate with her, you can’t know what’s really happening in the crater.”
Behind us, Sylvester cawed, offended.
“In real time,” Zandyr said, frustrated. No sane person could witness this war and not be affected, but he and I needed to keep the cracks hidden. If we broke, the warriors would follow. He braced his hands on his hips with a sigh. “You need to go home.”
“I know.” Even as I said it, I was relieved.
Tension between Zandyr and me could only lead to defeat.
I reached for my baldric. If I left now, I’d get to Solkar’s Reach by nightfall, check the rim by moonrise, and hopefully get to rest two hours before rushing back.
And I’d get to see Allie.
“Take all the traps you can carry,” Zandyr said. “They’re useless against the snakes, anyway.”
I shook my head. “They can’t be as imperviou–”
The ground shook.
Sylvester screeched and flapped his wings as the entire camp ground rattled.
We’d barely rushed out of the tent when a horrified scream broke.
“The snakes have crossed the river!”
Chapter 54
Allie
“The trolls will not get into your goat pen, Krysor.” I sighed and picked up my pace, hoping he’d finally get the hint.
The basket of supplies for the trolls rattled in my hands. Mrs. Thornbrew had packed them as carefully as she always did for the warriors, fussing and fretting over what to put in them, and kept asking me if trolls preferred fresh or dried fruit.
All I could do was shrug.
I’d grown up in forests filled with boars, deer, and foxes. Not trolls.
She’d done her best, but had refused to join us.
“My bones are old, but not old enough,” she’d said. “I still have a few good years to grind them and I plan on living through each of them.”
She wasn’t the only one terrified of getting anywhere near them. The civilians living closest to the kennels had moved in with family further inside the city. The birds had also quickly learned to avoid the area after being roared at enough times.
However, nobody had been hurt so far.
