He rolled off her into a crouch and sent a blast of lightning in the direction of the second Draíolon they hadn’t scented. He straightened to his full height when Evelayn jumped to her feet.
“I’m not leaving you here alone!”
She felt a surge of magic from behind and this time she shoved Tanvir forward, out of the way of yet another blast of shadowflame. It barely missed them, singeing a black mark across the arm of Tanvir’s tunic.
“Back to back!” she shouted, whirling so that he was behind her. Tension limned Tanvir’s body, but he did as she commanded, turning so that their spines pressed together. She summoned her sun-sword, sparking with lightning and writhing with white-flame, and readied herself, staring into the forest, searching for any sign of movement, scenting the air for the hint of snow and ice that didn’t belong.
She felt Tanvir move, and a surge of magic, and then there was a cry of pain from somewhere off in the forest. He truly had excellent aim, just as Kel had said.
There.
Evelayn’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t give any sign that she’d seen the Draíolon slip from one tree to the next a few hundred paces to her right. Her heart thumped in her chest as she gripped her sword, preparing herself. Sweat slipped down her spine, but a strange kind of calm descended over her—similar to when she was running. Her mind cleared and all her focus honed in on her enemy, stalking silently toward them.
When he spun out from the tree he’d been hiding behind and shot a blast of shadowflame at her, it seemed like time slowed to a crawl. She felt the power surging toward her, saw the jet of blackness slicing through the air with blinding speed, but she easily lifted her sword and deflected it with a deafening crash of light meeting shadow that reverberated all the way up both of her arms.
The Draíolon’s eyes met hers for the space of a breath. Then he turned and ran.
Evelayn hesitated for only a moment.
And then she sprinted after him.
TANVIR’S PULSE POUNDED IN HIS EARS, BUT THE FAMILIAR battle-stillness he’d honed on the warfront made his hands steady as he took careful aim and blasted the Dark Draíolon hiding directly ahead of him in the forest. He rarely missed, and this was no exception. The male was flung through the air to land in a bed of ferns and vibrant scarlet flowers. He didn’t get up.
The forest was eerily quiet as Tanvir stretched out his senses, searching for any hint of the others before they could attack again and hurt him or the princess. If she died now—
He cut off the thought viciously. He wouldn’t let that happen.
And then she suddenly stiffened. A split second later there was a deafening boom that vibrated through her into him—a massive collision of power. Tanvir forced himself to keep his back to the princess, knowing he’d leave them both vulnerable if he turned.
But then she was gone.
Heedless of the danger, he whirled about, to see the princess sprinting into the forest, brandishing a sun-sword made of flame and lightning, rushing after a retreating male.
“Evelayn!” he shouted in horror. She didn’t even pause. Tanvir took off after them, summoning his own sun-sword. Somewhere nearby there was at least one other Draíolon who could now attack from behind. But he couldn’t just let her go tearing after the enemy alone. The princess was still untried, untrained.
Though his blood thundered through his veins, Tanvir’s body felt strangely cold as he bolted through the forest, dodging tree branches and bushes, trying to keep Evelayn and the male in his sights. She was quickly gaining on the Dark Draíolon. By the Light, she was just so fast. Though he tried not to show it, it took every ounce of his strength and willpower to keep up with her each morning.
With a cry that sent a shiver down his spine, and without breaking stride, Evelayn suddenly swiped her sun-sword at the male, sending a lash of lightning at his legs. He screamed in pain and tumbled to the forest floor, the princess crashing to a halt so that her sword was pointed at his chest.
Tanvir scented the third Dark Draíolon an instant before the jet of shadowflame exploded from behind a tree to his left. He twisted to face his attacker as he threw himself to the ground, bringing his sword up out of pure instinct. Pain seared across his shoulder and left arm, and the scent of burned flesh filled his nose as the female Draíolon leapt at him, swinging a sword made of writhing darkness and black flame. Tanvir barely brought his own sword up in time to deflect the hit. The two weapons clashed with a thunderous boom that shook the forest floor. Tanvir used his free hand to blast a jet of light at the Dark Draíolon, and in the moment it took her to dodge the attack, he’d launched himself back to his feet, simultaneously slashing his sword through the air.
She tried to dodge him again, but he was too fast—the sword sliced through flesh and bone, nearly cutting her arm off. With a howl of agony, her shadow-sword disappeared and she fell to her knees. Tanvir shot another blast, but this time she didn’t try to avoid it, welcoming the release from the suffering. The bolt of light struck her in the chest, tearing through her body, and she crumpled into a heap.
Tanvir whirled to see Evelayn still holding the sword to the male’s throat. Her emotions were thick on the air—triumph mixed with a lingering tang of fear. But the male wasn’t someone who had been defeated. Tanvir could scent the foul musk of his smugness—as well as the lust rushing through his blood—and he bared his teeth with a low growl.
“—through the wards?”
He caught the end of her question as he raced toward them. The male noticed him one beat too late. The Dark Draíolon lifted his hand—to do what, Tanvir didn’t know and didn’t care. Again he leapt the final few feet, driving his sword down through the male’s chest.
“Tanvir!”
Evelayn’s shocked exclamation shook some of the red haze from his eyes. He turned to her, his heart slamming against his ribs. “Are you hurt?”
“I wanted him alive,” was her tight response.
Tanvir stiffened. “Could you not scent his intentions? He was just biding his time. I saved you.”
She stared down at the Dark Draíolon, his ice-blue eyes open and staring, his pale-blue hair and frost-white skin speckled with his own blood from the death wound Tanvir had inflicted.
“The others?” she asked without looking up.
Tanvir remained quiet.
Evelayn sighed heavily and her sun-sword winked out. “I guess we’ll never find out how they got here or what they were doing.” She finally lifted her head, but he couldn’t read the expression on her face or in her violet eyes. She was upwind from him, so he couldn’t scent her emotions, either. But when she wiped her hands on her leather pants, he noticed they were trembling.
“Evelayn, I’m—”