Wilder’s body slumped. Almost crushing me beneath him, his breathing labored, he whispered into my ear. “Keep behind me. When I say run, run and don’t look back.”
He released me. It gave me the chance to turn onto my side and look up at Wilder standing.
I choked on a scream. A dirty great arrow had gone through his right wing, leaving a tear. An ugly wound.
My belly writhed, and I almost heaved my guts up, because he’d chosen to stand in front of me, wings stretched out, his body acting as a barrier between me and whatever was out there.
He drew his sword and cocked his head, listening.
Where had the attackers gone? Why had they stopped? How had they sneaked up on him?
The world blurred as red rain trickled down his wing. Drip. Drip. Drip.
His wing … his beautiful wing. Torn and brutalized.
We should be running. He needed help.
I braced my weight with my palms and pushed up to a seated position. That’s as far as I got.
I was shaking, trembling like a loose leaf in a stray breeze.
“Stay behind me. Don’t give them a clear shot at you,” Wilder hissed from the corner of his mouth.
I tried to stand—my legs wouldn’t hold my weight.
Shit.
Auntie groaned. Don’t go to pieces on me now, girl.
Right.
I engaged my core, rolled up, and stood at his back. Through a fog of terror-fueled adrenaline, I stared around for an escape route. We couldn’t fly, so …
He was deathly quiet. “You need to run. I’ll cover you. Go—go now.”
Hysteria edged into my voice. “Let me help.”
“No! You’ll be exposed. Serena, please just go.” An order and a desperate plea.
Heart in mouth, I gripped my hilt and pulled the Utem? free by a couple of inches. There was the faintest murmur of sliding metal, which Wilder still heard. “Damn your stubborn hide,” he growled and sheathed his blade.
I released my sword with a snap as he closed his wings and spun to me.
Another hiss. An arrow sliced straight through his bicep, taking blood and muscle with it. Red droplets splattered my face. Bile rose.
Wilder grunted through gritted teeth, but despite his wounds, he lifted me into his arms. His whole body shook as he sprinted back into the forest. How was he still upright?
Twilight fell over our eyes. Wilder whistled into the darkness—I had no time to wonder why, because he threw me from him.
I flew, landing heavily, inhaling dirt. I groaned and rolled onto my side to stop my bag from digging into my back. Searching the shadows, I saw something flash in the darkness.
I blinked. Once. Twice. Panic sluiced through my veins as I recognized light reflecting off a blade edge.
A firelight swarm abruptly appeared, blinding me. Wilder’s whistle had brought them. They’d braved the shadows on his command. Now, the scene took shape.
Tysion, still in his camp uniform, stood with his sword to Wilder’s throat.
I gaped.
The Sabu Warrior was on his knees. I blinked back tears. How had that happened? Had his injuries caught up with him? His breathing ragged and shallow, he looked over to me and groaned, “Serena, run.”
Those green eyes shuttered, and he toppled onto his front. Still and lifeless.
Gods, no. Please, please.
“What have you done?” I whispered.
Tysion kicked Wilder. No movement. His smirking face turned to me. “Captured a traitor.”
Captured? Did that mean he was still alive?
Tysion yelled, “Hunter! Come and get the girl!”
For a split second I thought it must be a coincidence. Then I spotted familiar green and brown clothes, short black hair, and stormy wings. An iron fist seized my heart and lungs, and squeezed and squeezed. My heart’s blood poured out as his eyes met mine. “Why?” was all I could manage.
Hunter said nothing as he grasped my elbow and dragged me to my feet. I flopped against him, all my training useless. Frozen and staring into that face. Those eyes that refused to meet mine.
He’d betrayed me. Lied to me.
Traitorous, lying bastard.
I shoved and punched out. I caught Hunter’s chin and he twisted away, taking the hit. Somehow that just made me more furious. I rained blows down. Sobbing, screaming, “Rutting coward! You coward!”
“What are you waiting for? Restrain her,” Tysion snapped.
Hunter moved on me. Sobs become splutters and gasps as he whipped my wrists behind my back in a muscle-wrenching hold. He held them there with one hand as he coiled his other arm around my chest, squeezing me into his front while my bag was crushed between us.
Tysion rolled an unconscious Wilder onto his side. Blistering anger turned to cold sickness in my belly. Because this had to be Dimitri’s doing. Was it on Morgan’s orders? What would she do with Wilder? What would she do with me? Torture me? Cage me? All to make him bow before her?
Don’t think about that. Don’t think about anything but escaping, Auntie whispered to me.
How could I not? My deepest fears were about to be fulfilled.
Not death.
Imprisonment. Being locked up in another cage. Freedom forever denied.
For me that was the worst fate. Hunter had known. He’d seen it in me when he’d suggested training. For me to live under the whip and used as rutting leverage—to be sealed away—would be a living death. Madness assured. Oblivion was preferable.
Auntie began, Don’t you dare!
If I have to die to spare myself from that fate … to spare Wilder, I will.
I meant every word. But my resolve, my iron will, shattered like fragile glass the second Tysion traced Wilder’s cheek scars with his cold steel. This was a game to him. Like a cat playing with a mouse, he pressed down and made a slow, taunting swipe …
“Don’t! Please. I’ll do anything—just don’t hurt him.”
Wilder’s wound was shallow, but it nearly had me on my knees, crawling, pleading.
A serpentine smile twisted Tysion’s mouth as he said, “Whatever I want?” His eyes roamed, sweeping over my body, stripping me naked. “What could you possibly do for me that I couldn’t get elsewhere? Although, you must be good, to have snared a Sabu.” A pause and a curious head tilt followed. “How about you get on your knees?” He pointed his sword to the ground in front of him and said, “If you’re good enough, I’ll refrain from telling your lover what you did for him.”
My reply was slow in coming. “You’d let him go?”
Hunter’s bear grip contracted slightly. As if in warning.
Tysion’s voracious grin got bigger. “Maybe.”
Not a promise. Probably just an act to get me to humiliate myself. And if it wasn’t?
Tysion laughed, the sound mocking and shrill. “That’s what I thought. You can rest easy—we won’t kill the bastard. We’re just going on a little trip. If things had gone to plan, you’d be slumped on the ground alongside him with sedatives rushing through your blood. Completely ignorant and having a nice nap. Alas, your lover saved you from that kindness.”
And with that, Tysion turned to Hunter. “I thought you were the best bowman in the Hunt.”
Gods. Really?
“I am.” Hunter was calm. Too calm.
Tysion’s eyes narrowed and became demonic shadows in the firelights’ glow. “You had a shot at her, and you missed.”
Hunter replied, “Everyone has a bad day.”
His relaxed manner woke the magic in my blood. It thundered against the inside of my skull and thrashed inside my chest, desperate to be set free. I willed my magic to spill out into the world, to obliterate Hunter and Tysion. But nothing happened. Auntie? Auntie, please. Help me. There has to be a way to use the magic safely.
No, Serena. Not yet.
I wanted to scream at her and tear down the entire world in frustration. Auntie’s voice was clipped. Stall. Tysion loves to talk, loves to gloat—keep his mind occupied.
Then what?
Just do it, Auntie hissed.