Tensing, Jodhar’s gaze darted over the battlefield as the mercenaries wavered. But he didn’t break. He wouldn’t run. His eyes locked onto Reiya, peeking out from behind the boulder where she’d taken refuge with Kaelen.
Alarik saw the moment Jodhar moved. The brute Alpha surged toward her, cutting a direct path through the chaos, intent on reaching her before the full force of the royal army crashed down upon them.
Alarik intercepted, his curved steel flashing as their blades met in a violent clash. Sparks flew, the impact reverberating through the desert air. Jodhar’s wild grin faded beneath Alarik’s relentless strikes. Step by step, he was driven back, his bravado crumbling into frustration and desperation.
All around them, the mercenaries scattered beneath the army’s advance, the clash of steel filling the desert as the soldiers corralled the remaining forces. The troop tightened their formation, shielding them as the battle shifted in their favour.
The battlefield narrowed to just the two of them, locked in a brutal rhythm of steel and sand. Jodhar was driven by pride and desperation, his strikes wild but powerful.
Their blades met again, the force of it shaking through Alarik’s arms. The mercenary twisted, using his bulk to shove him. For a fleeting second, his foot slipped in the loose sand. Jodhar seized the opening, driving his shoulder into his chest and sending him hard to the ground.
His gritted his teeth as he fell, rolling to avoid Jodhar’s downward strike. The blade buried deep where his head had been just moments before, spraying sand in every direction. Grit scratched at his eyes, andhe blinked rapidly against the sting. He came up swiftly, crouched low, his free hand digging into the earth for stability. His breath came in sharp gasps, sweat glistening on his brow.
Then, with a surge of energy, he lunged. His blade sliced across Jodhar’s thigh, cutting deep. The mercenary stumbled, cursing as Alarik pressed the advantage. His strikes came faster now—short, brutal arcs meant to batter down Jodhar’s guard.
Alarik’s next strike was a downward slash, knocking Jodhar’s sword clean from his grip. The blade spun through the air, landing with a dull thud several feet away.
Jodhar froze, his chest heaving, eyes wide with disbelief as a sword hovered inches from his throat. Alarik’s hand didn’t tremble, the blade steady.
“Who sent you?” He demanded. “What do you know about Castiel Vaelmont’s plans?”
Jodhar sneered, blood staining his teeth, dripping from his lips. “You think I’ll talk? Kill me. You’ll get nothing.”
Alarik sword pressed against Jodhar’s throat. “As much as I want to, you and your men are coming with us. You’ll talk, one way or another.”
He opened his mouth, the command to detain Jodhar and the rest of the mercenaries ready on his lips. But before he spoke, the air snapped—a high, keening whistle slicing through the din.
His instincts screamed, but it was too late.
An arrow streaked past—too fast to follow, too precise to be chance.
It buried itself in Jodhar’s skull.
The hulking mercenary jerked, a flash of disbelief crossing his face before his body gave out, collapsing to the sand. The sound of it—the thud, the finality—echoed louder than the warhorns.
Alarik froze, heart hammering.
Stillness gripped the field. Every eye turned toward the fallen man.
He whirled around, scanning the dunes. His pulse raced. There was no sign of the archer. No flicker of movement, no raised bow among the soldiers on the ridge. Only the wind stirred, tugging at the green and gold banners overhead, and silence clung to the moment like a breath no one dared release.
That shot hadn’t come from a trembling recruit. It was calculated. Cold. Fired by someone who knew precisely where to aim—and how to disappear.
He sheathed his sword and turned, striding toward Reiya and Kaelen. His brother sagged heavily against her. His golden complexion had turned to that of a parchment. Her arm was locked around his waist, her other hand pressing against his wound. Blood seeped between her fingers, staining the fabric of his tunic a deeper red.
The venom still coursed through his system, and now, another wound was added to his weakening body.
Alarik reached them in three strides, slipping his arm beneath his brother’s to take some of the weight.
“You’re reckless. You should’ve stayed behind the boulder,” he admonished.
Kaelen’s lips curved into a faint smile, his usual charm dimmed but not extinguished. “Too stubborn to die,” he rasped. “Can’t really let you . . . fight alone and . . . take all the glory.”
Alarik grinned. Then, their eyes lingered on Jodhar’s lifeless body.
“They didn’t want him talking,” he said grimly, his voice low and tight.
Reiya’s eyes were fixed on the arrow that had silenced him so decisively. “Did you see the archer?”
