Reese's shoulders relaxed. He breathed out. "Good. I can leave in better conscience, then. Muirashi has Agendra, and whoever Yuudai wants to be their Paragon."
He turned Lady down an eastern road, away from the congested streets and chaos. Grabbing the saddle, he mounted behind me, drenching me in his warmth.
A strong arm wrapped around my waist, gentle, careful to avoid touching my wound.
Groaning, Liam mounted behind Bláth and snatched the reins from her. I chuckled, and he shot me a glare.
Reese pulled me back against him. Exhausted, pained, I laid my head against his chest and let my eyes close.
In my shadowed vision, every movement, every passing body seemed like an assassin preparing to strike. Nobles wanted me dead. Soldiers, too.
So did the Solhearts leading the armies of shadow.
They hadn't seemed evil. But what did I know?
My world had been Aenir's capital city, Casaloch, and the unwalked path to Tirnanog. Something far more complicated than the black tide was unfolding, but I was as clueless as a child.
Wrapped in Reese's comforting embrace, I sank into the darkness willingly.
I dreamed of my home.Of silver buildings beneath the canopy of our great tree, its leaves violet as the lightning.
For hours upon hours, I trudged toward the city, fighting against the storms.
No matter how long I traveled, how hard I fought, I never reached it.
My eyes snapped open. A tent tarp stretched above my head. The world around me was utterly quiet, unsettlingly so.
Reese knelt by my side, carefully tying new bandages around my wound. A used needle and thread lay beside him. I'd missed the worst of it.
"Tell me true, doctor," I murmured. "Will I live?"
Reese glanced over and chuckled. "Does anything still that sharp tongue of yours?"
"Not really, no."
Smiling, he returned to his work. Through my bleary vision, I realized I was mostly naked save for the bandages around my chest and abdomen. A blanket covered my lower half.
Reese tied off the gauze and pulled the blanket up to my neck. The world shrank until all that remained was his hand on my chest as he smoothed out the blanket's creases.
Fresh, hot pain surged through my torso, and the world expanded. I gasped, reaching for the wound.
Reese caught my hand. "I know it hurts, but the painkiller should kick in soon."
Squeezing my hand, he lowered it back to my side.
My mind snapped back to the Solheart who had done this to me.
"Who is he?" I asked. "Alistair."
Reese's tensed. His fingers curled into a fist before slipping away from me. "An old friend. We haven't crossed paths in ten years."
"How did he manage all this?" I flicked my fingers idly. "Training scádes to lead armies, gathering so many allies?"
"I don't know.” Reese stared ahead while he packed up his medical supplies. "He always had ambitions. They are mostly involved . . . " He trailed off. "Nobody has ever returned from the Ceorthan Shadowlands alive. How could they have spent enough time there to tame scádes? And for there to be so many . . . "
I propped myself up on an elbow. "Why would Solhearts do this? Kill their own Emperor, attack their own cities?"
"Alistair isn't a lord," Reese said. "He's a half-blooded peasant. Quinn isn't one either—Glenn Seradh is his half-brother, the real lord. Quinn's a bastard who was tossed on the streets."
