Page 108 of Wraithwound

Wyn had shifted, eyes black and claws extended as she flapped in the air above Lena, screeching in rage. A flaming green sword cut through the air, aimed at deflecting Wyn’s attacks.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Cross’s voice sounded from behind, and Lena whirled around to see him standing there shirtless, flexing a hand at his side. Taya and Riley ran up behind him, eyes scanning the darkness.

“Wyn— Taryk, stop!” Lena yelled at the soulbound. Wyn screeched at her, albeit halfheartedly, and reluctantly perched atop a branch not far from her head. The eleuth eyed Taryk and screeched loudly one last time before closing her eyes. When she opened them again, they were their usual orange.

“It was hurting you,” Taryk said incredulously.

“No—that’s not . . .” And then she saw the bleeding scratches on his face.

She turned to look at Wyn, and she could have sworn the animal shrugged before huffing at them and turning away.

“I tried to nudge it off you with my boot, and it attacked me,” he added.

Oh.

He really thought he was helping then. It wasn’t difficult to see how he might have thought she was in danger, but also⁠—

“What are you doing here, Taryk?” Cross asked. But Taryk seemed to be more concerned with assessing the injuries on his face.

“I can’t see shit out here. Can we have this conversation by the fire?” he asked, pushing past them.

Taya eyed Taryk warily as he made himself at home in front of the fire. She and Riley exchanged another meaningful glance but remained standing. Laney stared at the warrior but quickly averted her gaze when she realized Lena had noticed, and Cross looked like he was ready to throttle the man.

“Don’t make me ask you again, Taryk,” Cross warned.

Taryk was busy patting his face with a cotton handkerchief and let the silence drag on for a moment before he replied at last, “Things have been . . . strange, and I’ve begun to wonder if you and your group know what’s going on.”

Cross’s eyes narrowed, and his hand twitched near his dagger. She could sense the fury pouring off him. Despite the tense situation, Lena caught a glimpse of his muscled torso and was relieved to see the absence of black veins spiderwebbing from his newly bandaged injuries. She caught Taya marking the same thing.

“You are not welcome here. Not now, not ever. Leave,” Cross demanded.

Taryk looked to Lena as if waiting for her response. She had no idea what was going on between them, but if Cross was asking him to leave, it had to be for good reason. When she didn’t respond, he stood.

“Fine,” Taryk said, tucking the bloody handkerchief into his pocket and heading back towards the trees. “See you around, Cross.”

A nudge at her side alerted her to the eleuth’s presence. Lena sat on a flat stone, and the eleuth jumped up next to her, leaning over to lick her wound. Immediately, the pain ceased. Stunned, she inspected the puncture wounds on her arm and gave Wyn a grateful smile. Wyn blinked at her in response and then bounded off into the trees. Lena half wondered if she was going to terrorize Taryk on his way back to wherever he’d come from.

Taya rounded on Cross. “He’s been following you two for some time now. Why?”

“I’ll take care of it,” Cross said, still fuming.

“If he’s going to be a problem I need to know,” she pushed.

“I said, I’ll take care of it,” Cross replied before stalking off.

Chapter

Fifty-Eight

That night she dreamt of her grandfather. She saw him more clearly than she had in years: The wrinkles at the corner of his eyes when he smiled. The look of amusement on his face as she searched the house to look for little trinkets he’d hidden for her, a game they played often. But what she remembered the most was the way he smelled of fresh herbs, mostly mint, and his warmth. Not just in his embrace, but the kindness and love that radiated from him, and not just for her but for everyone.

The next morning brought a heaviness with it that she couldn’t seem to shake. The air outside the tent felt dead, and the tension that rippled off the others was palpable. Even Laney wore a grim expression as they ate a light breakfast and packed the horses. Next to her, Laney whispered a prayer to the Goddess, and Lena wondered how someone who had also endured so much loss still retained so much light. She couldn’t help but wonder why the maiden still believed in the Goddess when faith was one of the first things she’d lost in the onslaught of grief.

Lena halted her preparations the moment she saw Cross. He was sporting a split lip and a blossoming bruise at his cheekbone. She opened her mouth to speak but decided against it. He’d been distant ever since they’d left The Whispers, and she didn’t want to push him.

By the time they stopped for lunch on a ridge several hours later, she was ready to push. He stalked past the group, which was busy tending to the horses, and towards the ledge. Lena followed.

“What happened to you?” she asked. When Cross didn’t answer, she stepped up next to him on the ledge. Tracking his gaze, she spotted what he was looking at. Just beyond the ridge, a man approached on horseback.