Two Dark Elves were hauling a girl through the forest.
It was Avalon, Hadrian realized, blinding rage tearing through his veins. An arrow was protruding from her back, and blood was soaking her tunic.
He barely realized what he was doing until it was already done.
With a battle cry, he tore through the shrubs like a wild and ravenous animal. The one Dark Elf, who had an unconscious Avalon draped across his shoulders, dropped her to the ground to defend himself—
But Hadrian cut through him like a scythe through a stalk of wheat. He dropped without a word to the forest floor in pieces.
His partner was next. He was muttering nonsense in their wicked language as he approached Hadrian, ready for a fight and so certain he would win.
But Hadrian’s blade tore through his gullet. Blood sprayed, and he dropped like a stone in water. In the sudden silence, the thud of his body hitting the ground was deafening.
Hadrian rushed to Avalon’s side and pressed his thumb against the inside of her wrist.Please be alive,he begged.Please be alive.
There was the softest flutter of a pulse beneath her skin.
Thank the gods.
“Avalon.” Hadrian said her name like a prayer. The wound in her back was not fatal, but the arrowhead had been dipped in a fast-spreading poison that was already turning her skin sallow. If he didn’t find help, she would die.
Whether there was a rebel movement in the Elven House or not, they would let him in.
Or he would burn the place to the ground.
39
The Elves had left behind nothing when they’d fled Midra, yet the rolling hills and dense forests still stirred with an echo of the magic that had once breathed here.
Every rustle of the foliage as Hadrian raced through the forest seemed to scrape along his bones. He held Avalon tightly, the muscles in his legs screaming as he crested hill after hill.
Along with being the most mysterious realm in Elderyn, Midra was also one of the largest, its size second only to the Realm of Ice, whose sprawling wastelands and ever-shifting Outlands remained elusive. Many a soul had wandered through the North, only to never return. Sometimes their remains would reveal themselves when a sharp gust of wind carried away just enough of the snow concealing them, but by that time, the bones would be long since picked clean.
Hadrian had heard similar things about Midra, and he tried not to dwell on every twig snapping and shrub rustling. He had to get Avalon to safety. She was the only thing that mattered now. She was his life, his soul, his better half. And he would not let her down.
He glanced at her as he crested yet another hill. She was somehow paler than before.
The captain swallowed the lump in his throat and ran faster, his legs nearly giving out from the effort.
He could see it now—the Elven House. Its spires stretched high above an ancient forest in the distance, stark against a cloudless blue sky.
He was so, so close. He was going to make it, he realized. Something close to a strangled sob burst through his lips.
Even from here, he could spot the dozens of Elven guards lining either side of the forested mountain in which the pale-stone fortress was nestled. That mountain was the reason this House had yet to succumb to the king’s forces: the steep cliffs and narrow causeway intruders had no choice but to cross made it near impregnable. Making it far enough to speak to someone who was willing to listen would be no easy task.
The guards started firing arrows at him when he neared the mountain pass. He dodged every arrow, shouting at the top of his lungs for the archers to wait—to listen. But he wasn’t certain they could hear him, and something told him they didn’t care.
Another arrow was fired. Then another two. Three.
The last sliced into the shell of his ear, and he lost his balance, dropping to his side so hard, he nearly dislocated his shoulder. An unconscious Avalon toppled from his arms.
The arrows kept coming as he threw himself overtop her, shielding her body with his own.
A woman shouted in Elven. The guards ceased fire, but Hadrian refused to move as he crouched low over Avalon, panting heavily through bared teeth.
From high on the forested mountain, angry voices floated down to him on the wind, but Hadrian did not look up.
He closed his eyes. Maybe Avalon would live. And if she lived, then that would be enough.
