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Throwing another soldier off my back, I look closer at the animal. It looks like a wolf, only with short shimmery fur and tall, pointy ears. It has a stocky body, heavy with muscle, and a head that is disproportionately too big.
And with this new help comes more. A small army of people wearing sandals, beige pants, gold bracelets, and chokers. Their upper bodies are covered in beautifully designed tattoos. They wield long golden spears, throwing them into the Vexamen Breed with flawless precision as they ride the backs of horses. It’s enough that the Breed falls back, speaking a strange language as they turn to run.
I let out a whoosh of breath, watching several of our unexpected guests chase the enemy on horseback.
Dessin drops his weapon, stepping over bodies to get to me.
“You’re hurt,” he growls, pulling me closer to him. We’re both covered in blood and sweat. Hair disheveled, eyes blazing with violence, and hands still ready for another surprise attack. But he looks down at me, and suddenly we’re back in that meadow. I ache for his mouth.
“It’s a scratch.”
He examines it quickly, peeling away the wet fabric. It isn’t bad. But it does sting.
“You fought better than me, baby.” He tilts my chin up to look at him. I fall weak in his hickory-brown eyes. “You know how bad that makes me want to fuck you against a tree? Right here. In front of everyone.”
My eyes roll back into my head, and my toes curl. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Dessin,” Warrose calls out cautiously.
We both turn around to see Warrose slowly approaching the small copper wolf, going completely berserk on a dead night dawper. It shakes the detached arm like a dog would shake a toy. We all stare in mild amusement and a little disgust.
“What is it?” Ruth asks as she and Niles approach. Why the hell are they still here?
“She’s a Ginger Wrathbull. From the Endograves Jungle.” A woman slides off her horse, tucking a strand of her short black hair behind her ear. She’s stunning. Cream-colored skin. Straight posture. Elegant stance. And a face that shines with a rare beauty.
“You’re a member of the Faecrest colony.” Warrose nods his head in acknowledgment, wiping the blood from his face with a rag.
The woman nods, narrow eyes the color of charcoal. “We’ve been waiting for the chance to give her to you. Per the instructions of our prophecy—it told us the exact day we would need to be here, in this forest. I am Bellanne.”
I can hear Dessin’s eyes roll at the wordprophecy.
“You’re giving us this… WrathBull?” I look down at the short-haired wolf the size of a goat. Her mouth is covered in blood and bits of entrails. And she kind of looks… mean.
“Why?” Niles asks, taking a step closer to get a better look at her. Her upper lip curls back, and she growls at him. I try to hide my smirk because, of course, she would growl at Niles.
“She’s destined to help you in the war to come.” Bellanne watches Dessin and me closely, as if she’s anticipating us arguing about it. But I shrug, look back down at the ginger bullthing, and sigh.
“She’s a good little fighter. I vote yes.”
Dessin nods. “What’s her name?”
“We were told to name her Knightingale.” The name sinks to the bottom of my soul, burning like a meteor shower.
Dessin and I look at each other at the same time. Raised eyebrows. Parted lips. Knightingale and DaiSzek. The fae and elf warriors from the last war.
“Shit, seriously? Knightingale? As in Knightingale and DaiSzek?” Warrose blows out a surprised laugh. “That can’t be a coincidence.”
“I don’t think it is. Whoever wrote this prophecy knew we’d name him DaiSzek,” I say quietly, gazing down at the dirty girl with pupils so large she actually looks kind of cute.
“Looks like you’ve got another member to your pack, Dai,” Dessin calls, nodding toward Knightingale. His smile is wide, and my stomach warms knowing this is one gift Dessin actually appreciates. He loves DaiSzek. I know he’ll love having another fearsome creature in his family.
DaiSzek leans in to sniff Knightingale’s butt, stretching out his neck in an attempt to do it quietly. But ironically enough, she lunges at him, snapping viciously without actually getting him with her teeth. DaiSzek jerks back in surprise, looking at her with curious eyes that wonder why a bee has just tried to sting him. She’s comically smaller than he is.
Her growling simmers to a low grumble before she walks off.
“Ginger WrathBulls can have bad tempers,” Bellanne warns with a crooked smile. “She’ll get used to you after a while.” She climbs back onto her horse.
“Thank you for helping us,” I say quickly.
