Before I can bend to retrieve Sable from the dusty floor, Harland dodges one of Rowland's right hooks, and delivers a devastating uppercut to his stomach—gods, it seems to reach his spine.
The sound that escapes Rowland as he’s thrust into the air is wet and hollow. Using the momentum, Harland hurls Rowland behind him, and he disappears down the dark stairwell, tumbling helplessly.
I don't have time to worry about whether his neck is broken. Or how badly he might be bleeding.
My fingers fumble for Sable. They slide over the last remaining bolt. Crouched on my knees, I press the weapon into my lap and draw the bowstring back, a feeling of panicked triumph consuming me.
But fingers close around my neck. The air is squeezed right out of my throat as I'm lifted off the floor.
I drop Sable again and start hammering against Harland's arms. Each one seems as formidable as a hundred noctis a piece. His grip doesn't relent. In fact, his fingers tighten, cutting off the last hairs-width of space left in my windpipe.
I gag on nothing, choking on what feels like a rock lodged into my throat.
I strain for anything, for even the slightest breath.
I barter and beg and plead to no one for just one more taste of air.
My head begins to pound. I can't tell if my vision is fading or if it's just so dark in here that I can no longer see a thing.
"Char—" I hear Rowland wheezing from somewhere in the room. I wish I could hold his hand. I wish I had never left Valor’s Rest that day. I wish for so many things.
My ability to lift my own arms weakens, fingers dragging limply across Harland’s forearms instead of the pounding I was giving them just moments before.
My eyelids grow heavy, and soon I fear I won't be able to open my eyes at all.
After all these years of running, there was no evading death at the hands of a noctis.
I'm only slightly aware of a thud, followed by a sound caught somewhere between a groan and a gasp.
To my surprise, and great relief, Harland's fingers loosen from around my neck, much like the way Gregor’s had in Gravenburg. I fall to the ground at his feet, gasping and coughing, only mildly aware of his staggering footsteps as he hobbles away from me.
When the massive weight of him crashes to the ground, shaking the entire attic, I'm finally able to lift my gaze.
I prepare to give thanks to Rowland for saving me, yet again. But he isn’t the one standing before me.
A woman with bright, shaggy red hair squats down to my level.
Resting her arms atop her knees, she clasps her mangled fingers together and leans in and smiles. "There. That ought to make us even for me getting you captured."
29
HUNGER, NO MORE
"Something's coming."
Caz stops abruptly. Thrusting an arm behind him, the flat of his palm thumps Renee in the shoulder and we stop with him. The three of us crouch behind together in the underbrush, watching, waiting, listening.
All I hear is the quiet that’s followed us all throughout these forsaken woods. A dreary sense of foreboding has only worsened since nightfall consumed the sky.
It's like the earth here is alive. Like every tree is watching us, waiting to grab us with its spider leg branches and drag us down into the ground.
A shudder skitters down my spine at the thought.
I can only hope that for as long as I live, I will never find myself inside these woods again.
Renee, Caz, and I strain to listen, and after afew moments, I finally hear the rhythmic pounding that caught Caz's attention.
Footsteps. And they’re coming right at us.
