Still bound in a taut, convulsing knot, I blink again … again … AGAIN—
He clicks his tongue and lifts the quill.
Immediate relief.
I fold forward, fist my hands into the snow, and repress the urge to spray my stomach lining all the way to the river, trying to imagine a world where I don’t wake to a fresh serving of spangle shit every dae.
Crushing Sereme’s note in my fist, I glare at the male now spinning with a dash of his cloak, giving me his back. Rage licks at my ribs like a brewing flame as he saunters over the bridge, leaving heavy prints in the fresh powder.
I grind through tight breaths like a huffing dragon, crack my neck. Press down my thrashing desire to leap up, grip his head, and whip it around so fast he glimpses me standing behind him before the light leaves his eyes … reminding myself that murdering the asshole is probably not the best course of action. Though I could steal the vial. Relieve him of his ability to torture me via Sereme’s bind—
A cold disruption in the air slams my heart to a halt.
I look through the foliage in time to see Líri spearing toward the bridge. Wings tucked, she plummets quieter than a puffed breath, right up until the moment she’s almost on the fae. Then she flicks out her wings, claws splayed, a predatory leer in her bold black eyes.
The Squire doesn’t have a chance to scream before she snatches him off the bridge—there and gone in a blink.
All the gathered snow blasts from the canopy and gusts about as Líri thrashes her wings, climbing the air. She drops her head, maw splayed before she clamps down on the male and, with one swift jerk, rips him in two.
Blood sprays.
A severed arm thumps onto the bridge, its gory splat chased by a red rain that sprays the snow.
I groan, still stomaching the punch of shock when I catch sight of afamiliar figure standing on the other side of the bridge, draped in a rust-colored cloak, her long auburn braid hanging over her shoulder. I note the small bundle bound against her chest behind a linen wrap as Siharna moves across the arch, smudging the splats of red with each tender, leaden step.
My cheeks heat.
I’m done for.
I push to my feet and swiftly pocket the note, still breathless, brushing the snow from my cloak as we come face-to-face.
“Congratulations,” I rasp, nipping the swiftest glance at her young. “Valliant effort.”
She dips her chin, and an awkward silence ensues. Goes on and on and fuckingon.
“I—ahh …”Creators, swallow me.“How are youstanding?” I blurt, figuring it’s a better way to break the ice rather than addressing the severed arm she just booted off the bridge.
She arches a brow. “Because I don’t have time to sit.”
Fair.
I’m trying to think of a way to respond—my gaze bumping from her stern eyes to the bloody footprints she left behind—when Líri releases a screech of savage joy from somewhere amongst the clouds.
My lids sink shut.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, not that I think it’ll make her feel any better about the situation. My dragon just snatched someone off the bridge in the guts of her beautiful, beloved village. Is probably eating him this very instant.
Siharna lifts her chin, a faint posturing I certainly don’t miss. “Will it implicate my village? My folk?”
Her younglings.
She doesn’t say the words, but I hear them. Feel them in the pit of my soul.
“No. I swear on my life and on the Creators themselves.”
With the coming moonfall, it’s likely my conscience is the only thing that’ll need reconciling. While Líri digests the secret of how that fucker perished, I’ll be down here with my eyes pried open, battling the prospect that the Ath might no longer stand for the things it once did, or that I was led to believe. How can it when it appears Sereme’s not the only venomous, high-ranking member with a lust for blackmail and a sprinkle of torture?
Silence prevails as Siharna watches me, her arms firmly bound around her slumbering babe I can’t quite bring myself to take a good look at. Despite it—or maybe because of it—I know I’d do anything in my power to ensure no harm befalls either himorhis sister.
