Page 65 of A Thief Among Fae

And as the four fae follow, the guard that Auri had shot twitches, then slowly rises onto his feet.

The world tilts, and my stomach drops as the enclave blurs until it’s replaced by a dark forest of towering trees, taller than any I’ve seen in Avedor.

Someone gasps for breath behind me, and I swerve to face them.

Desmond stumbles toward me. A seeping gash up his calf leaks blood, and his chin is split open, right where his scar is now. He drags his leg behind him, grasping low-hanging branches for support. The four fae he named flank him, each cut up worse than he is.

The short female clad in leather armor is missing one of her wings, blue blood splattered around the raw slash across her back. One of the two males drags his twisted foot, so torn from its socket that it’s facing sideways.

They press on like it’s the only thought they can cling to, even as shouts of Avedoran soldiers and the bark of hounds echo behind them. Even as trees creak and crash, felled in the distance by another plume that haunts the sky with red.

Sweat rolls down Desmond’s brow. His jaw clenches, and he grunts in agony as he stares straight ahead. His hazel eyes are red from the smoke, wide, and haunted.

I glimpse the limping male’s slackened expression as he passes me. It’s empty, as if too traumatized to feel. Fear claws up my throat as I follow them. Something is wrong.

The barking loudens, closer. Desmond glances behind him, and his whole body starts to tremble. “Forgive me,” he says, his voice cracking as his face wrenches with pain.

The four fae stop and slowly turn, facing the way they had come.

Desmond closes his eyes, his shoulders shuddering as he lets out an inconsolable cry. Then he stares ahead and continues on through the trees, not looking back even once.

I’m yanked back to the present so suddenly that my head spins. Only one waning moon beams above the autumn leaves of the forest outside the thieves’ hideout. Desmond blinks, dazed like I am, and Gashil shoves him back. Then he sprints away.

“You’d be wise to be wary of him,” Gashil says into my mind as he flees. “He’s an abomination to all our peoples.”

“We can’t let him get away!” I shout, already running.

“No!” Desmond sprints after me. “It’s a trap!”

“He slaughtered my family!”

“An illusion of them!” he argues.

“How did he know what they looked like? He must’ve seen them, taken them—” I leap over a log and gasp as my foot catches on it. Desmond grabs my arm and pulls me against him.

“He’s stronger than most illusionists. He doesn’t need to know what our worst fears are to make us see them,” he says, every word rumbling through my back as he wraps his arms around me. “Please trust me, Cynthia. Your family is safe at home. If he knew where they were, he wouldn’t have bothered with the tricks.”

I want to believe him. But the image of blood pooling around Evie’s body flashes through my mind, vivid enough to make bile burn in my throat. What if he’s wrong?

“It’s impossible that Gashil met the fae I saw,” Desmond says. “He plucked their likeness from my mind, and did the same with your family. I promise you, they’re safe.”

“But what if they’re not?” My voice wavers, and I don’t care how weak that makes me feel.

Desmond shifts, tucking his head over my shoulder like if he holds me closer, he can stop the way I’m trembling. “I’d offer to take you back to your home to check, but that puts them in greater danger. Gashil could follow.”

A horrified shudder ripples through my body. “Is that why he ran? To goad me into exposing my family?”

“Perhaps.”

I close my eyes, forcing myself to breathe. If that’s even a small possibility, I can’t go home. The last thing I want to do is lead that monster straight to their doorstep. “You really think they’re okay?”

He nods against me. “I do.”

I cling to those words, not because I’m convinced, but because the alternative is unbearable. Safe. Evie has to be safe. Maybe she’s curled up in bed right now beneath our faded quilt, wondering where I’ve gone.

The thought loosens something in my chest. A strained laugh escapes me before I can stop it, half relief and half desperation.

Desmond’s strong arms squeeze me once. Then he lets go.