Page 182 of Veil of Blood and Bone

Helene’s gaze snaps from the giant to us, snowflakes falling harder, faster. And for one terrible second, the relief of her expression hits hard enough to gut me.

Then the creature’s talons slam down to the roof of the car and dented metal caves inward.

“NO!”

A battle cry echoes through the ages. One I haven’t heard since the last time I was on a battlefield, fighting alongside her. It rips from Nicholas’s lips.

I feel it too.

An awful certainty carves through my ribs. If we lose her this time, something in us won’t survive it.

So, it’s simple. We won’t lose her.

Not now. Not ever.

The sound shakes something loose inside me. Not fear, but memory. Gilded armor drenched black with blood, smoke-choked kingdoms and battles forgotten.

Our girl, standing proud in the center of the carnage with her sword held in both hands and dishonorable dead at her feet.

We’ve all fought beside her in the past. Except none of us have had the good decency to die with her.

The ridiculous memory lands jagged and incomplete, followed by enough grief to anchor it home in the present.

Then the frost giant angles toward us and his awful gaze snags on me, on Nicholas. Frosted lips peel away from icicle fangs like daggers.

I brush snow off my arms, shadows tangling like tattoos. “It’s your lucky day, buddy,” I call out. “Because this time I’m not standing on the sidelines.”

Good. He’s finally looking my way.

Instinct, the creature inside me, sits up and grins. Fear would be smarter. It probably should dominate, right along with tactical restraint. Self-preservation.

You know, those mature and reasonable matters.

I get a flood of hot adrenaline through my veins instead. “Ah, I’ve missed this.”

Nicholas whips to me. “What?”

“Oh, the violence.” I take a step closer. “The certainty. The beautiful simplicity of tearing bastards like this apart with my bare hands.”

Excitement and determination light a fire under my ass. The same combination as the last battle I joined, before everything went to shit.

Because I can survive a lot of things.

Gods. Wars. Curses. Losing pieces of myself.

But not⁠—

I shove the thought away so brutally shadows burst from the snowbanks.

“No pressure, Helene,” I mutter through gritted teeth. “Just three emotionally unstable immortals depending on you for their continued psychological wellbeing.”

The frost giant turns fully toward us. His eyes are wrong and ancient, not mindless. Not when recognition flickers there. Somehow I’d rather it be animal ignorance. It inhales, ice crackling across its enormous chest.

And the smile…shit.

My shadows coil tighter around my arms.

When the jötun speaks, it’s a language older than this realm. It punctuates the statement with another wide smile like breaking bones.