AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Another groan escaped him before he noticed the cold seeping into his clothing where he sat in the snow. He attempted to pick himself up off the forest floor, but his hands wouldn’t budge.
His eyes flashed open in alarm as he struggled against thick bindings. Foggy breaths escaped him in rapid succession as he fought against a rope tying him to a tree, his arms secured around the trunk behind him.
The last several memories came back to him in a flash. The Attleglade attack. Fleeing. Sunweave collapsing. And Nyana.
Nyana!
Sunweave lay on the ground, still saddled, as he groaned and took breath after laborious breath. Still alive. But Nyana no longer lay pinned beneath the creature.
He remembered something hitting him on the back of the head, and then nothing.
Once again, he struggled against his bindings, panic and a sense of dread clawing at his throat. He frantically searched for his wife. In the snow. Near a tree. And he even dared to search the boughs above for her dangling corpse.
Nothing.
“Who did this?” His voice cracked as he fought off hysteria and focused on taking several deep breaths. Had those fire fae attacked them? Someone else?
“Those two bad men,” Maisy answered. “I made them run away. But they took Mama.”
A sob stuck fast in his throat, another terrified shout rumbling deep in his chest. The last time Ethan and Cole had attacked them, they’d strung Nyana up within minutes. How long had he been unconscious?
Too long.
He glanced up at the sky. Not yet dark, but the sun would set in an hour or two.
He thrashed against the rope, trying to pull his hands free and loosen its hold around his chest. A shudder raced through him when the rope refused to budge. One of Ethan’s strengths was knots.
But even a knot couldn’t outperform a knife.
“In the saddlebag on the right,” he grunted, nodding his head toward his poor, dying horse. Devastation threatened to punch a hole through him, but it had to wait. “My knife is in there.”
Maisy shook her head. “The bad man took it with him.”
Joel swore under his breath, his arms straining against the rope until the coarse material bit into his skin. With pain the only outcome of his efforts, he mentally took stock of their few possessions.
He noticed his flute sticking out of the snow several feet away. But his magic wasn’t a weapon but a defense. In this scenario, it was useless. In the chilly forest, two thin blankets would only stretch so far in keeping his children warm, especially as night approached. The belt buckle on Sunweave’s saddle might work. But Maisy’s hands were small, her strength minimal. She likely wouldn’t be able to retrieve it for him, nor cut it free without a knife.
Sharp rock?
As he scanned the forest floor in search of a rock, his gaze stopped on the saddlebags. Hope spurred his heart into a frenzied rhythm.
“Maisy,” he gasped. “Left saddlebag. Smallest pocket. There should be a vial full of black liquid.”
She rushed over to Sunweave, taking one look at him before stifling a sob. Her small fingers trailed over his neck, and the horse released a large huff of breath. After a minute of digging through the bag, she returned with the vial. Black liquid swirled within the glass like shadows. His hope burned brighter. Killian Graves had said he’d come if summoned. But how long would it take for him to arrive?
“Throw it against the ground,” he instructed. “Try to break the glass.”
Determination rested upon her brow as she pulled back her arm and threw it on the ground.
It nestled harmlessly in the snow.
She tried again, this time against a tree. No luck.
Between Maisy and Eva, they attempted to break the vial, but they weren’t strong enough.
Maisy groaned in frustration. “I can’t break it!”
“But you’re a child! Children are supposed to be good at breaking things.” He laughed through his disheartened tears. Using just his feet, he attempted to clear the ground of snow. His stepdaughter tried again to break the vial against the forest floor, but it bounced off frozen grass.
