The ward is gone.
Sudden, unexpected freedom called to my blood, urging me to take flight, even as all strength drained from my body and trepidation crept along my spine.
The thief has escaped with my treasure.
My world was a snow globe, turned upside down and shaken until I no longer recognized it.
“M’lord!” Panic carved deep grooves into the gargoyle’s weathered face as he came into view. “Are you?—”
“Healing,” I assured him.
The Norseman had shifted into his flight form. His wings fanned around him as he scanned the area, focusing on the breach in the hedge. “Who did this?”
Tyrin owed a life debt to my sire, one Ieshim hadtransferred to me following my mother’s murder. As the son of a Jarl—a nobleman charged with territory and people—the urge to lead and protect was woven into the very fabric of the gargoyle’s being. Yet he had bent his knee to me when I was a child, appointing himself myhúskarl, my household bodyguard.
The additional flapping of wings announced the approach of another gargoyle. “What has happened?” Frode asked.
“He’s injured. Fetch Evadne,” Tyrin commanded.
“No,” I said, surveying the grim sight I presented. My life’s blood saturated both my trousers and the earth beneath me, yet my wounds were the least of my concerns. I would mend. My sire’s shield, however, would not. The estate now lay exposed, my people vulnerable. “I can handle this. There is no need to wake the healer.”
Frode materialized beside his mate, and the two exchanged a glance. Neither appeared convinced by my assurances. Their doubt spurred me to summon my discipline and direct my power toward my wounds. This time, magic surged through me like the river in spring, frigid and formidable, cooling my blood as it mended torn flesh. White spots detonated behind my eyes, and perspiration tracked down my brow. My training had been rigorous, and this was not my first self-administered healing. The wounds were, however, the gravest by far. All magic demanded payment, and repairing this level of damage would extract far more energy than I presently possessed.
Had the blades carried poison, my body would have prioritized expelling the toxins before repairing the damage, but mercifully, that did not appear to be the case. Muscle fused, depleting my reserves at an alarming rate. Weariness seeped into my very bones as my eyelids grew heavier with each passing second. I wanted nothing more than to shift and fall into a healing coma, but there was no guarantee that the estate would not be attacked again. I needed to stay conscious. Yet remaining exposed with such debilitating injuries was unwise, so I released my magic before the well could run dry and endeavored to regain my feet.
Tyrin bent and secured an arm behind my back. His unsolicited aid violated protocol, but the risk of reopening my newly mended flesh trumped my pride, so I clenched my jaw and accepted his assistance. Nausea clawed up the back of my throat in waves of torment. Forcing it down, I dismissed any further help the moment my vision stabilized, staggering only a single step before recovering my equilibrium.
I was lord of this estate. I would walk under my own power.
“What happened?” Tyrin asked.
Each wheezing breath sent fire racing through my lungs, but I fought past the pain. “A thief stole an artifact Ieshim tasked me with protecting, shattering the ward as she fled.”
Concern tightened Tyrin’s features as he assessed my condition. “Frode and I will hunt her down at once.”
Their wings snapped tight, preparing to take flight.
“No.”
My húskarl opened his mouth to argue, but I silenced him with a shake of my head, unwilling to risk my people when we knew so little about the threat we faced. Tyrin and Frode were seasoned warriors who could handle themselves, but I was nearly drained and would not dispatch my two finest fighters on a fool’s errand.
“She possessed an amulet and could open the box Ieshim and I could not.”
Understanding hitched Tyrin’s breath, and the gathering energy dissipated. “How?”
“The manor must have let her into my hoard.”
Tyrin’s brow shot up. “What sort of creature was she?”
“Her scent was concealed, but her accomplice is a wolf.”
There was no need to expand since Tyrin had been the one to educate me on the way wolves conspired to isolate and exhaust prey before striking. Where there was one wolf shifter, there was likely a pack.
Frode scrubbed a hand down his face. “But the artifact?—?”
“I will retrieve it after I heal. First, we must secure the estate.Alert Skarde and Revna to the breach. I require all four of you on patrol until morning. With the ward compromised, we are exposed.”
“Yes, m’lord,” they said at once.
