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But she cast one look back at her uncle, a confused look written across her face.
And I glimpsed the look on his face too. I expected frustration, because she was escaping. Or manipulative satisfaction, because he had confused her by killing Joachim, with his ridiculous fake protective impulses.
But he just looked worried.
The next second, he tore his gaze away from Honor, murmuring in the ear of the aide who stood near him, directing the battle.
I wanted desperately to run at him and take him down.
But instead, Honor and I fought our way through the chaos, taking down any of Kallus’s soldiers who got in our way, until we reached the clearing.
Then we ran.
We’d been scattered and separated. I tried to contact the others through the bond, but couldn’t. I tried to shift but couldn’t.
I ripped a cloak from a dead knight as we passed. I tried not to look at his face, knowing I’d recognize him; his face was untouched even though his legs had been ripped off by the Scourge.
But he rolled as I pulled the cloak away, and I caught a glimpse of his clean-shaven face and staring eyes. Kolchim. He was barely older than my royals.
“We need to find each other again,” Honor managed through pants of pain.
She was bleeding, too fast.
“Our top priority is getting you healed. Then we can worry about finding each other.”
She protested, but I swept her off her feet and cradled her against my chest. As worried as I was about her, it still felt good to have her so close. I breathed in her scent.
I carried her as we headed through the chaos, escaping Kallus’s army. The fields were littered with dead and dying Scourge and shifters, now impossible to tell apart. The Scourge were gaunt and some of them were wounded—one was missing his eyes, and then I realized with a shudder his eyes must have rotted out of his head when he was Scourge—but they looked like anyone else now.
Maybe Honor was right.
“Didn’t Zehr say the Scourge would all die when you reversed the curse?”
“Yes,” she said weakly, resting her head on my shoulder. My heart melted whenever she leaned her head against me. “Maybe I… I didn’t really do it.”
“I think you did,” I said. “Maybe Zehr was wrong. And I was too.”
She must be hurt, because she had no comeback. She just smiled wanly.
I looked back; we’d covered miles, and I thought Kallus’s army had gone in the other direction. Gods. He’d wanted us weak, unable to shift, for his invasion. How much of this moment had he guided and manipulated and controlled?
I lay her down on the bank of the river, on soft green grass above the shimmering, burbling water.
“Let me see your wounds,” she said, her voice breathy from pain. “Let me see if I can still heal them.”
Gods, she pierced right to my soul. She was always trying to look out for everyone else—even me.
“Lay back and let me heal you, little dragon.”
* * *
Honor
Damyn’s handswere tender as he healed each wound, letting out a sigh of relief that he could still do that magic. “It feels like I’ve been drained,” he admitted. “That I don’t have as much magic as I used to. But I have enough.”
I tried to push his hands away. “Don’t spend it all on me. I’m fine. You might need it later.”
“I need it now.” He wrapped my wrists in one of his big hands and pressed them against my stomach as he went on healing me with the other hand.
