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She tugged her dagger free of a sunken chest and staggered back.
“Princess,” I called out, rising. “Got a better weapon for you.” I tossed her the sword.
Poppy caught it, quickly sheathing her dagger. “Thanks.” She spun, cutting down a Craven.
Godsdamn, she was…
A Craven shrieked, racing toward me. Another was right behind that one. Neither resembling anything living any longer. Both were more bone and thin tissue than anything else. Annoyed that I couldn’t watch Poppy be, well, a total badass, I sliced the head from one and then the other. Mist whirled along the ground as a smaller Craven charged forward. I stiffened, drawing back a step as the small, pale face of…of a child came into view.
“Godsdamn,” I muttered, taken aback.
There was always pity for the Craven, even the ones who’d torn into my flesh with insatiable hunger while the Blood Crown held me captive. I used to wonder who they’d been before that. Farmers? Huntsmen? Villagers? Innocent mortals who had lives, families, and futures of wants and needs stolen from them? I’d long since stopped asking those questions. It was easier to see them as they were now: creatures that had died a long time ago.
But this? A child? And one that couldn’t have been older than the two I’d seen outside the meatpacking warehouse. Perhaps even the age of the little girl who had somehow ended up in the castle wearing a Descenter’s mask and frightened out of her mind. This could very well be her fate unless the Ascended were stopped.
Focusing on the brutal task at hand, I stepped forward and caught the child with my hand under its chin. It snapped and hissed like a feral animal. This would be hard to unsee. To forget. I thrust my sword through its chest. “Godsdamn.”
“The mist is letting up.” Kieran kicked a Craven back, looking past me. “Shit.”
I spun just as Poppy tumbled backward. I started forward as Airrick reached Poppy, shoving her aside. Claws snagged my damn cloak, jerking me back. Cursing, I turned, cleaving off the Craven’s head. Whirling around, my heart lurched. I didn’t see Poppy. Panic took root. If something had happened to her—
She rose from where the mist was the thickest along the ground. With a shout, she thrust her sword through the chest of a hairless, emaciated Craven.
Relief nearly took the air out of my lungs. She was good. More than good as she pulled the sword free and prowled forward, the edges of her cloak billowing around her, scattering more of the thinning mist. She brought her foot down on a wounded Craven’s back, driving it to the ground. With a quick jab, she ended its shrieking with a savage smile.
“Gods,” I muttered, my blood heating despite the death and decay all around us. “Did you see that?”
“I did.” Kieran dragged the back of his sleeve across his cheek, wiping away spots of blood.
One side of my lips kicked up. “It was hot.”
Kieran smirked. “It was.”
Laughing under my breath, I turned and scanned the trees. The mist was almost all but faded now, revealing the ashy-hued bark of the blood trees and their glistening crimson leaves. Luddie speared a Craven with an arrow protruding from its gut. I spotted another struggling in the roots, hissing and growling as snarled, reddish-brown-colored hair hung in clumps. Bony, bloodstained hands clawed at the air as I hopped over a fallen Craven. A slice of sunlight cut through the trees, glancing off the thin, waxen flesh of its cheek and the soulless, crimson eyes. It swiped out at me in mindless hunger. I thrust my sword through its chest.
Withdrawing my blade, I started to survey the damage. We’d taken some losses. Only four guards remained standing. Kieran and Luddie were looking down at a Huntsman whose chest and stomach had been torn open. Looking up, I found Poppy kneeling beside Phillips. The older man had his hands pressed to Airrick’s shredded, bloody chest.
Cleaning my blade on a Craven’s tattered clothing, I sheathed my sword and trained my eyes on Poppy. Her brows were pinched with sorrow as she dropped to her knees beside the brown-haired Airrick, placing the sword beside her. I stepped over a fallen Huntsman’s legs, slowly walking toward them. Poppy’s face had paled. I was used to this kind of death, but…
But she was, too, wasn’t she?
“You saved me,” Poppy said softly.
Airrick’s laugh was weak. Blood trickled from his mouth. “I don’t…think you…needed saving.”
“I did,” she told him, glancing at his stomach. I followed her gaze and immediately wished she hadn’t looked. The Craven had done a number on the young man. There was so much damn blood and gore. “And you were there for me. You did save me, Airrick.”
I knelt on Phillips’ other side as Airrick writhed in pain. Poppy looked up at me with desperate hope as the poor bastard’s chest rose and fell rapidly. I shook my head, telling her what she surely already knew. The only thing we could do now was end his pain with an act of mercy. There was no coming back from this kind of wound.
