Beside me, a soft nicker drew me from my thoughts. Before leaving Hexryn, we purchased a pack horse. Only one. Jyn thought riding out would have given us away faster, the thunder of hoof beats easier to pick out than cautious human footfalls. He couldn’t deny the usefulness of tossing our bags on the horse’s back, though, especially if we ended up in a fight.
“Should we rest?” I asked, as the cicadas began their evening song.
Jyn shook his head sharply. “No. We have to keep moving.”
I didn’t question him. Camion and Andimir didn’t show any sign of their own opinions. My steps were lagging though—we hadn’t stopped all day, not for food, water, or rest. We pressed on through the night, and it wasn’t until I stumbled, falling to my knees, that Jyn relented. He only allowed us a few minutes, though, enough to clean my scraped palms and fill our stomachs.
“We can’t stop again,” Jyn murmured.
Camion wrapped linen around my left hand. “She needs rest, Jyn. We all do.”
“If we don’t create more distance, they’ll be on us before we wake.” Jyn’s eyes were heavy, dark circles beneath them. “She can sleep on the horse.”
Camion paused his motions, studied the Elf. Jyn didn’t waver, only standing to repack his own bag when Camion tied a knot in the cloth. The rest of us wore matching frowns. Our pace was grueling. I could see my thoughts in their eyes. At this rate, if the Shadows caught up to us, that would be it. None of us would have the strength or stamina to fight.
When our stomachs had stopped rumbling, we moved again and we didn’t stop. Days passed. Between us, the silence only grew. Andimir didn’t even have a sarcastic remark to break through the tension, the unease tightening my upper back and neck into knots. My only source of comfort were the small gestures each of them made in reassurance. A squeeze of the arm from Jyn. Small smiles from Andimir. The gentle weight of Camion’s arm, soothing and protective around my shoulders.
As the hours ticked by, my thoughts became jumbled. My sanity slipped away like sand through an hourglass, only the quiet sounds of the forest keeping grains in the top. I tried to focus on a subject; on the mission at hand or the list of Titans I had read and reread. Nothing helped. Ideas melted away, lost to my weary, sleep-parched mind. Our horseback sleep shifts were hardly restful, and I had lost count of how many sunrises had passed.
All I knew was that Jyn grew clingy and paranoid with every step we took. Casting glances over his shoulder, wide-eyed and strained in constant alert. He slept less than an hour a day, refused to let any of us keep watch. The toll was visible, and while the rest of us might be nearly useless if the Shadows attacked, Jyn would be hardly any better. His pace was arduous, and none of us really had much hope to inspire us forward. I couldn’t see how Valdis wouldn’t already have the Ventus Scepter. If we were lucky, maybe, he didn’t. The odds weren’t in our favor, though. But where hope failed, fear prevailed, and so we kept moving. Not only to put distance between the Shadows, but also because we fully understood the cost of what awaited if we failed––or were caught. Or if the Ventus Scepter fell into the wrong hands.
After another day of travel, I began to press Jyn again. I was desperate for him to rest, more so even than myself though, if I were honest, I would gladly rest my aching feet for a few hours.
“Light’s Pass is within a day’s walk,” Jyn said. “If we get clear to the other side, we might be able to sleep a night undisturbed. That’s the best I can offer you.”
“We could stop within the Pass,” Andimir offered.
Jyn glared at him, and I realized the problem. Subconsciously, I had been scanning the trees, the surrounding area, seeking any hint of the campsite remains I knew Jyn was trying to avoid. His parent’s murders were raw in his mind. Knowing what they had done, what they had been trying to do, didn’t make their loss any easier for him, and this close . . . he wouldn’t tell us if we were nearing the spot; he refused to even acknowledge the question.
“You don’t have to tell us.” Concern pinched Andimir’s face. “But I do agree with Natylia. You need rest, Jyn.”
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Jyn grumbled. He clambered over a fallen tree, dismissing the conversation. Camion glanced at me. The strain on Jyn was too much. I was beginning to see the cracks.
If we thought he was bad before the Pass, we had no idea what awaited. The moment we stepped into the gorge between the mountains he became utterly incorrigible. He wouldn’t let us stop, even in the dense lines of trees that bordered the valley. No breaks, no riding, no rest at all. When I stumbled, he caught me; when Andimir hesitated, he urged him on. Only Camion didn’t complain at the breakneck pace, and I couldn’t decide if it was because he trusted Jyn or didn’t want to set him off.
The sun was high above us and casting shadowed trees over our path when Jyn froze. Terror like I had never seen crossed his face, and another facet snapped into place. Not only were we passing the spot he had lost his parents . . . but the fear of failure was plain in his eyes, the fear that he might not be able to save me in the exact same spot. A weight plummeted into my stomach.
“They’re here,” he whispered, drawing his daggers.
I nocked an arrow and watched the trees as Camion unsheathed his sword in my peripheral. Andimir pulled his own sword loose, shoving the horse toward the tree line. The animal nickered in protest. Jyn pushed me backward, gently, closer to Camion.
“If I don’t make it, get her out of here,” Jyn murmured.
Camion nodded solemnly. He wouldn’t meet my eyes before I said, “Cam. You can’t be serious. We’re not leaving Jyn behind.”
“You can and you will,” Jyn said, then lifted a hand to ask for silence.
I tilted my head. Nothing. Nothing but the soft rustle of wind in the tree branches. Camion’s lessons played in my mind. I closed my eyes, breathed in slowly. A sharp gasp to my right had my eyes snapping open, locking onto to Andimir’s.
“Tyli what are you doing? You’re glowing,” Camion whispered uneasily.
The pendant. In our haste to leave Eythera I hadn’t tied the gift on yet. I hadn’t needed the damper while training with Izoryian. My eyes fell to my bow, where my hand gripped the handle. Sure enough, blue and purple sparkles danced across my skin.
Instead of shoving the magic away, I focused. Breathed in slowly. I closed my eyes and, this time, sounds flooded my ears. Every noise of the forest amplified in crisp detail. A leaf shifting, sliding against the one alongside it. A family of ants, and the soft rhythm of dozens of minuscule feet carrying food back to their home. Small animals, rooting around in the dirt and underbrush, and even a snapping twig that made me wonder if the invisible Zylarra still followed at our heels.
And I listened. Off to the southeast, cloth dragged across brush. Boots thudded over hard ground, a twig snapping underfoot. I spun toward the sounds, eyes still closed, and reached my magic tentatively toward them, focusing on the clatter of a sword in its sheath. At the edges of my mind I felt predatory, primal emotions—then, as my magic touched them, those emotions shifted. The sounds paused as shadowed forms filled my vision. Amusement danced around my senses.
Hello, little queen . . .
I opened my eyes and reflexively backed away from the voice, straight into Camion. When I struggled to form an apology, he frowned, scanning my face. “Are you alright?”
“I heard— I saw—” I took in a long breath and steadied my nerves. “They’re coming from the southeast, and they’re not alone.”
Jyn frowned. “They are rather easy to hear. I suppose—”
“No, Jyn. I’m not guessing. I saw them.”
“Saw them?” Jyn’s eyes snapped to my face. “What do you mean you saw them?”
“I reached out, with my magic . . .”
“Tyli—” Concern and warning edged Camion’s voice.
“Princess, do you have any idea how dangerous that is? You don’t know what you’re doing. What if you brought them to us?”
; “They already know where we are, right?”
“Yes,” Jyn conceded. “But I mean physically. Brought them to us.”
“I can do that?”
He sighed. “It’s possible. And the draw would probably kill you, especially if there’s two or more of them.”
Camion slid his hand against my lower back and pulled me closer to him. Under his breath, he said, “Be careful, love. Please?”
I leaned into him and tried to offer reassurance. But after a moment, Jyn said, warily, “Can you try again? See how many there are, for sure, maybe identify the extra?”
“Didn’t you say—” Andimir started.
“Yes, but if she can give us more details . . .”
The three men exchanged long looks. They knew I would agree without question, but I knew that if I overexerted, they would be down a fighter and I would be an extra weight for them to carry. Camion’s expression was calculating as he studied the lines of Jyn’s face. Then he looked to me.
“Are you sure?” I nodded, looping an arm around his waist and welcoming the weight of his own around my shoulders. He pressed a kiss into my hair. “Stay with me.”
“Always,” I murmured. I closed my eyes.
This time, I didn’t let myself get pulled into the sounds around us. I focused in on those distinct noises—the boots, the cloth and sword, that human-sounding voice. Then they were in front of me, as clearly as though I was physically there. The two Shadows, Valeria and Cyrus. But between them, slowing their pace slightly, was a man. A human-looking man, with skin that was kissed by the sun and shoulders draped with shaggy, light brown hair. Unlike his cloaked, hooded companions, this man wore heavy metal armor, meticulously designed and expensively made. His expression was one of boredom, perhaps tired of his Vampyr companions, but none of those features caught my eye as thoroughly as the massive, brilliant white wings tucked behind him.
As though he sensed my gaze, the man peered up at me and flexed those wings. Most of the feather tips shimmered with gold. The woods filled with the hissed protest of the Shadows behind him.
He grinned, and I pulled myself back with a jerk. An ache spread through my chest and the scar on my side seared with agony. I stumbled, frowning when my glittering magic blinked into nothing.
“You pushed too hard,” Camion scolded. But he tightened his arm around my shoulders, pulling me more firmly against his chest.
“What did you see?” Jyn asked. His eyes were tight with concern, but the grip on his daggers told me the emotional war and lack of sleep, were physically tearing him apart.
I described the man briefly, gauging Jyn’s reaction with each word. He blinked, slowly. Then he released a loud, aggressive string of profanities.
“Jyn?” I turned in Camion’s grip, reaching out to grasp my friend’s forearm.
“I didn’t expect—” he growled. “Not this quickly, anyway.” Another string of swears slid free before he added, “Sorry, Princess, I should thank you. I’m just—”
Andimir glanced between us. “What am I missing?”
“Boreas,” I breathed, my fingers tightening on Jyn’s arm with the realization. “I saw Boreas with the Shadows. The Ventus Scepter has been taken.”
Andimir’s throat bobbed. Camion’s fingers curled into a fist.
Jyn nodded. “You three need to go. Now.”
“No,” I said.
“Please,” Jyn pleaded. “Please. Take the Tellus Scepter and go.”
I stared at him, immobile even as Camion shouldered his pack, and Andimir grabbed the horses’ reins. Jyn’s brown eyes didn’t waver, didn’t blink, they just waited, focused on me. Begging.
Jyn didn’t beg.
And I wasn’t going to leave him behind. “If you fight, I fight. We all go or we all stay.”
Andimir quickly agreed. “You haven’t slept in days. We’re not leaving you behind to hold them off alone.”
“They’re right, you know,” Camion said quietly. “I may agree with your logic, but I’d much rather stand here and fight.”
My friend’s eyes dropped to the ground, his shoulders slumping slightly.
“Fine,” he relented. A flock of birds scattered from the trees not far behind us, and his eyes shot wide. “Move, let’s go.”
Chapter 36
We ran. Our boots thundered against the earth, the horse trotting behind without command. Jyn tried to encourage me on her back, or Camion, or even Andimir—but none of us would go without the others. Foolish, maybe. But not one of us would get out of this alive alone. We stayed together.
I pulled the pendant from my pocket as we fled, tying the cord around my throat. My steps lagged a bit as I did, but I needed control of my powers. The Shadows hadn’t seen what Boreas had. If we were lucky, the Titan wouldn’t talk. I didn’t know how deep his loyalty to them ran. The Shadows didn’t need to know I had magic, if Boreas didn’t tell them. I couldn’t risk my abilities revealing themselves.
And so we ran.
A cackle sounded behind us, the cruel feminine laugh echoing through the valley. Sweat weighed on my brow. Jyn, in his exhaustion, could only keep pace with us. The thunder of wingbeats caught my ears. I struggled for air as they drew closer.
We didn’t move fast enough.
Valeria and Cyrus were there. They blocked our path, abandoning Boreas to ensure we didn’t reach the other side of the pass. My heartbeat quickened. Our horse snorted loudly, shuffling backward, toward the crude line of trees that edged the valley.
“Hello, Your Highness,” Valeria purred, the thick accent rolling off her tongue. Her hood still sat high over her head, as did her brother’s. They swept around in front of us, cloaks swirling through the underbrush.
“Leaving?” Cyrus taunted in that low tone of his.
Jyn scowled, stepping between the Shadows and myself. I tightened the string of my bow slightly, not aiming for either of them, but ready. When we took a collective step forward, the Shadows straightened into more intimidating stances.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Valeria snapped.
“I think we are,” Jyn growled, matching her posturing with his own.
“Who are your friends?” a voice asked from behind us—a male voice, deep and husky. I spun, met silver-blue eyes that sent a chill up my spine. Boreas smiled. “Oh, hello, little queen.”
Jyn turned, his back to my side, his eyes shifting between the two threats. Camion took a step away, spinning his sword. Andimir moved farther back, assessing, ready to adjust where needed. The Titan chuckled.
“You wouldn’t stand a chance in combat against me, mortals.” He laughed again, pulling a deadly looking greatsword over his shoulder. The blade moved with ease in his hands, though it was almost as long as he was tall. He wagged an eyebrow at Camion. “Come on, give me a try.”
“Boreas,” Valeria warned. “We’re to take them alive.”
“You won’t be taking us anywhere,” Jyn snarled.
Boreas studied Jyn appraisingly, circling in closer. He inhaled deeply, then grinned. “No, we won’t be taking you anywhere.”
“You’ll touch them over my dead body.” Jyn raised his daggers, but the Titan was faster. His sword caught the blades, knocking one from Jyn’s hand as though he were little more than a doll.
“That can be arranged,” he taunted. Andimir swung for him then. A delighted smirk spread across the Titan’s face. He slammed his free arm sideways, catching Andimir in the chest with the dagger he had stolen. The pirate gasped. Dark blood bloomed, spreading rapidly across the fabric.
“Andimir,” I screamed, reaching out to catch him. Boreas wiped the blood from the blade. Andimir staggered into my side. Camion stepped forward, tried to tug Andimir’s weight away, but I protested, muttering, “You’re the better fighter.”
“Do you really think that will matter, in the end?” Cyrus taunted.
Before Cyrus could move Jyn was in motion, ripping the hood away from the Vampyr’s face. Shaggy, shoulder-length brown hair
fell around his shoulders, accented by the pale, almost translucent skin underneath. Cyrus roared in anger, turning eyes the color of a ruby sunset on the Elf. The rattling of chains clattered from beneath that cloak. He struck out, silver links wrapping Jyn’s wrists. Jerking hard, Cyrus snapped the chains. Jyn was thrown off balance, the chains biting hard into his skin before he fell free, tumbling across the dirt. Valeria strode for him, each of her carefully measured movements stiff with fury.
At the same moment, Boreas moved for Andimir again. Camion met the greatsword with his blade. The Titan growled in frustration when Camion matched his blows almost perfectly. I watched, helpless, weighed down by Andimir. A terrible smile stretched across Cyrus’s face. He had backed Jyn into a tree. I couldn’t hear over my pounding pulse. My feet shifted, ready to move, but I stopped.
“Go,” Andimir said. “Help him.”
I reluctantly lowered him to the ground, next to the trees where the horse had fled to, where he might manage to find cover. My side was drenched in his blood. The sight sent fury blazing through every corner of my soul. I slid my bow free, slipped in an arrow and managed to hit Valeria in the hand she had raised to strike Jyn. She shrieked in pain, the sound echoing off the rocks around us.
Cyrus came for me, but Jyn was faster. In a heartbeat his remaining dagger pressed into Cyrus’s neck. Valeria darted to yank him off—too late.
Jyn’s blade dragged across the length of the male Vampyr’s throat, spraying the ground in dark liquid. Blood glistened along the silver dagger. Cyrus collapsed, his weight tugging Jyn to the ground at Valeria’s feet.
Valeria pulled her own dagger. Light green liquid shimmered in the sun, coating the blade and filling the fuller. Before I could think to act, or warn Jyn, the blade sank deep into Jyn’s shoulder. A scream shook the trees. Camion cried out in pain, cutting through the sound, and it wasn’t until I snapped my jaw shut that I realized the scream had been my own.
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