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My body was slick with sweat. One of my arms was still bleeding from my fight with the creature in the tree.
I stumbled again and almost went down. My hand caught on something warm and furry.
Vynthar prowled beside me. I let out a shaky breath. He could help.
Place him on my back.
“I can’t. I’ll drop him.”
Then use me for balance.
I choked out a sob. “Thank you.” I reached for him, my hand sliding into his fur and holding tight. He pressed his body next to mine, helping me stay balanced as he guided me over the uneven forest floor with his superior sight.
When the glow of campfires finally pierced the night, I let the sob caught in my lungs free.
“Help!” I screamed. “Help!”
Several people stumbled toward me. “More survivors?” a man asked, his own tunic damp with blood. “Gods, how are you carrying him?”
“Tibris,” I demanded. “This is his brother. Get Tibris now.”
Someone called for him, while the men helped gently pull Demos from my shoulders. His face was so pale, my heart stopped. But he cracked his eyes open, his gaze scanning me as if for injuries.
His eyes rolled back in his head as one of the men pulled off the tunic I’d tied around him. And then Tibris was there, his expression grim. Tears rolled down my cheeks.
“Move,” Tibris ordered the men.
“Don’t let him die,” I begged. “Tibris—”
“I know. I know, Sin.”
He’d likely been healing for hours. But he held his hands over Demos’s body. And then he closed his eyes.
* * *
Jamic was a strange man.
It was unsurprising, given how he’d spent the last however many years. But still, the way he stood on his balcony, staring down at the wild fae gardens below us…
It was as if he was memorizing everything. So he could store it away. Did he think he was destined to be locked up once more?
I’d knocked on his door a few minutes ago, after bathing and dressing. It was warm in the fae lands, and my dress was made out of some gauzy material that danced in the breeze.
Jamic had opened the door and gestured silently for me to enter. He didn’t speak often. Today, we would finally remove the amulet from around his neck, and it would be returned to the fae. With Prisca and the others mourning Cavis and strategizing for the summit, I’d arranged to be here with Jamic for this.
He had no one else.
“You didn’t need to come,” he said, as if reading my mind. With the amount of power I could feel simmering within him, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he could.
“I wanted to.”
Someone approached, and I turned. A short, pale fae woman stood behind me—unremarkable except for her eyes, which were a strange mix of blues, greens, and browns. Next to her, a tall, solemn-faced man shifted on his feet.
“I am Nortris, and this is Metral,” she said. “We are healers.”
Jamic nodded. He appeared unconcerned, but I’d caught the way his jaw tightened. “Come in,” he told all of us.
When we were all seated in the plush chairs near Jamic’s fire, Nortris gave Jamic an encouraging smile. “We have no way to know what the effect will be once we remove the amulet. Never before has a human worn such an artifact—and His Majesty said you have worn it for years. So this is just the first attempt. Metral will remove the amulet while I balance the power within you, reducing the drain to a steady trickle.”
