“You have to go,” Leukos said. Each word was a battle, his breath thinning.
But the edge of the circle was just ahead. With a final, desperate lurch, Alena heaved herself over it.
Heat surged from the torc at her throat, spreading in waves through her body. It burned at first, then dissolved into a golden warmth that seeped into her torn muscles and battered ribs.
She collapsed face-down in the mud, her cheek pressed against the cold earth. Grit stung her skin, blood and rain mixing in her mouth. With a groan, she turned her head—just enough to find Leukos.
He remained slumped against the standing stone, paler than she’d ever seen. Through the downpour, his gaze caught hers—sharp with pain, yet burning with a stubborn light.
“I’m not leaving you,” she whispered fiercely.
The White Mare’s magic kept threading through her. The stabbing pain in her shoulder dulled, then ebbed entirely. Her chest eased. The fog of agony lifted, leaving behind the dizzying relief of a body knitting itself whole.
She drew in a breath that didn’t burn.
And then, out of nowhere, the tether she had thought severed roared back into her mind. Her bond with the wolves surged, a chorus howling through the dark.
Help me, she cried to any who could hear her.Find a healer. Save Leukos. Please.
Leukos coughed, blood flecking his lips. His head lolled slightly. “The Rasennans will be here soon,” he choked out. “You know they’ll come for you.”
“Leukos—”
“I don’t care what they do to me… but you can’t let them take you.”
“No—”
“Listen to me,” he said, forcing strength into every word. “The Rasennans can’t find you. You have to go. You have to survive.”
Her hands sank into the mud as she pushed herself upright. “I didn’t leave you at the Green Mountains’ hillfort,” she gasped, trembling. “And I’ll be damned if I leave you now.”
She staggered to her feet, limbs screaming in protest, blood dripping from her fingers. Her vision blurred—but her eyes never left his.
“You’re my husband,” she said through clenched teeth. “My soulmate.And you will not die. I forbid it.”
She skirted the edge of the stones and stepped back into the circle, severing the White Mare’s magic in an instant. The warmth fled her body, replaced by the icy sting of returning pain—but she didn’t care.
She was healed enough.
Now, if she could only drag Leukos out, the torc would do the same for him.
She fell to her knees before him, mud splattering her legs. But the moment her gaze landed on his wound, her stomach turned to stone.
The dagger was buried to the hilt, rammed through the gap in his breastplate and deep into his gut. Blood soaked everything—his tunic, the stone behind him, her hands.
She couldn’t drag him. She couldn’t move him or she risked killing him faster.
The truth struck like a hammer blow: she couldn’t save him. The weight of it split her heart, cracking wide open. But it was the look in his eyes that truly broke her.
He had known. From the instant the blade struck, he’d known he couldn’t be saved…
“No…” A sob tore free. Her hands cupped his face, slick with rain and blood.
“Alena—”
“Don’t—don’t speak,” she begged. Tears blurred everything, but her body moved anyway, driven by sheer instinct. With fumbling fingers, she yanked the dagger from her belt and sawed a strip from his cloak. She pressed the makeshift bandage to his side, forcing it tight against the wound.
“Here.” She guided his trembling hands down, her own slippery with blood. “Hold it. You have to hold it. Do you hear me?Press.”
