Page 141 of Dream Reaper

“What is it?” he demanded, his fingers curling into fists. “What do you see?”

Ava didn’t answer. She dashed forward, tripping over debris as she raced to get back to the tower. Ash swirled around her, coating her dark hair and shoulders.

“It’s the tower,” Jerrid explained gruffly. “It’s collapsed.”

The prince exhaled loudly. “And the women?”

Jerrid didn’t answer and left the prince behind, jogging after Ava as he allowed his wings to drape around his shoulders like a leathery cloak. He climbed over jagged chunks of stone and broken timbers, the wood charred and smoking. Some bits still glowed with fire, some crimson and others blue.

His belly writhed as if filled with snakes.

His dragon fire and the dark elf magic had caused as much damage as the shadow itself.

A form rose from behind the rubble, and Jerrid recognized the lithe figure by the tense set of her narrow shoulders.

“Brynja,” he called, lifting his hand.

She raised a hand in response, climbing over the boulder to stand on top of it. “Did you kill it? Please tell me that thing is finally dead!”

Jerrid barked a laugh. “It’s gone.”

“For real this time?” the girl growled, hands settled low on her hips.

“I think so?” He cast a look around at the empty clearing and searched inside himself.

But his mind felt wholly his, untainted by darkness or nightmares. And the silence felt so good.

“It’s not in my head anymore, at least,” he offered as more evidence.

Brynja slid down a large slab of rock, and her boots hit the ground with a thud. Ava swept her into a hug. The human girl drew back at first, but then she patted Ava on the back, arching an eyebrow at Jerrid.

“Is she okay?” she asked with a wry smile.

Ava pulled back with a laugh. “I’m fine. I’m so glad you’re okay. When I saw the tower had collapsed—” She broke off as she turned to survey the damage. “The others?”

Brynja stepped back, her mouth set in a grim line. “I think everyone got out in time. Sound off!”

“Here!” someone chirped from their right, and a figure emerged from behind a pile of smoking wooden timbers.

Another girl coughed and sat up, covered in ashes. “Here!”

A chorus of voices broke over them, girls and children emerging from their hiding places, all of them covered in a combination of blood, soot, grime, and ash, many of them with tear stains streaking their dirty faces.

Brynja’s gaze skittered past Jerrid, and her eyes narrowed as Prince Haryk emerged from behind him, moving slowly to find his way across the ground. Several of the girls gasped and recoiled.

Brynja’s hand settled on the hilt of her dagger.

“Easy, everyone,” Jerrid said in a low, warning tone as he lifted a palm toward Brynja and widened his stance. “The prince is on our side. He helped defeat the monster.”

Prince Haryk froze as if he had heard the layered edge in Jerrid’s voice.

Brynja’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps. But now that the monster is gone, what’s to stop him from becoming our enemy again?”

The prince turned his face toward the sound of her voice. “I am not your enemy.”

Snorts and growls of outrage rippled around the destroyed camp. Jerrid’s weary body didn’t want another confrontation, not so soon, but he didn’t know what choice he would have if the girls forced his hand.

He had watched this dark elf prince fight almost to his death tonight to protect these girls, and he couldn’t let him come to harm now and live with himself, not when the prince had risked so much to help them.