Page 48 of On Brutal Thrones

A bat dives toward an opening. A branch snaps across the gap before it can get through. The creature crashes into it with a furious shriek.

I flinch but hold my ground.

More bats strike the canopy, wings beating and claws scraping against the branches. Their squeals rain down around me, but none of them can reach me.

For a few seconds, I can only stare. Then despite everything, a breathless laugh escapes me. Twice I’ve used my magic twice without a rune, without preparation, without anyone telling me what to do.

Maybe I’m finally figuring this out.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

The leaves rustle overhead. I don’t know whether that’s an answer, but I choose to believe it is. Then I pull Thorian’s sword from the earth and glance back toward the fight.

Bats still swarm between the trees. There’s no way to return without running straight into them, and I can’t see enough of the red field to tell how the men are doing. I need somewhere to take cover until it’s safe to go back.

A little farther into the forest, the trees grow closer together. Their branches might offer shelter without taking me too far from the others.

The sounds of the fight fade behind me as I move between the trunks. That frightens me more than the roars did. At least when I could hear Fenric and Talon fighting, I knew they were both alive.

Don’t go too far.

The forest grows thicker around me, massive trunks rising toward a canopy so dense that only scattered shafts of sunlight reach the ground. Ferns brush my legs, and moss softens my footsteps. After so much red, the deep greens and browns almost hurt to look at.

My breathing finally begins to slow. Sweat runs down my forehead, and I wipe it away with the back of my good arm before listening.

Nothing. No bats. No roaring. No men.

That last silence makes my stomach twist. The fight shouldn’t be this quiet. I haven’t gone that far.

Turning back, I search between the trunks for a glimpse of the field, but the trees block my view. The urge to run toward the men is almost overwhelming. Yet the bats were waiting the last time I tried to return, and charging blindly into them won’t help anyone.

I need to stay close enough to find the men again, but I also need somewhere to hide. Talon and Fenric aren’t the only dangers left in these Trials.

The Vultures are still alive.

Magnus, Halwin, and Antone.

The thought steels my resolve. After everything those warlocks have already done, I have no doubt they’d take advantage of finding me alone. And right now, separated from the men and carrying an injury they could easily see, I probably look like an opportunity.

But I’m not the same woman they met at the beginning of these Trials.

My gaze drops to the sword in my hand. I might not be Thorian with it, but I’m not defenseless without him. And now I have my magic.

Vale is still out there too. I can’t forget her. She’s the only member of her team left, and after Thorian killed Eswyth, revenge might matter more to her than winning.

A sound comes from somewhere to my right. Leaves crunch. I turn immediately, bringing the sword up with both hands.

My heart pounds, but I don’t scream. I don’t freeze. I listen.

Another faint rustle comes from beyond the trees. I have no idea whether it’s one of my men, a warlock, Vale, or another creature looking for its next meal. Standing here waiting to find out seems like a terrible idea.

A massive tree nearby has partially pulled free of the earth, leaving a hollow beneath its exposed roots. Ferns and low bushes crowd around the opening, concealing most of it from view. It’s cramped and dark, but big enough for me to squeeze inside.

Good enough.

I glance back toward the fight before approaching it.

The sounds have faded.