Sero loped to him like a carefree hound, happy to let Kye harness a rope around his shoulders. One at a time, they dragged Demyan and Captain Henri Kriska the Third over the edge of the ravine and into the water below.
33
Maren
“Ready?”
I glared up at the outstretched hand. Every time I opened my eyes, the world lost its axis, rotating strangely against the purple sky. “Okay,” I said, placing my feet flat against the ground to hoist myself up.
The horses were packed. The pirates were gone. Kye had swept the evidence of our visit to this patch of the canyon in only a matter of minutes.
I let him gather me in, leaning my weight against him as we walked. “Should we take their horses?”
Kye glanced at the two beasts, happily munching away. “They’ll find their way to people if they’re smart. I don’t want anyone to recognize them and wonder where the pirates are if we take them with us.”
“Recognize them?” I echoed in confusion.
He stood me beside Sero, quickly climbing into the saddle. “We’re close to a town. Your injuries need to be stitched, and I can’t do it here. The shirt will keep it closed until we make it to an inn.”
“We’re going to aninn?”
He leaned down, tucking his hands under my arms. “I want a locked door.”
My heart stopped. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry, warmth invading the back of my neck. The game trail had kept us safe and unseen up until now. The market in Vranna, the prison, the festival—every interaction we’d shared with people had proved deadly.
“So no one else can surprise us,” he added, patiently waiting for me.
“All right.” I nodded, uneasy with the idea. I tucked an arm around his neck, and he lifted me up. The roots under my feet left me as I slowly launched away.
“Relax if you can,” he murmured, his throat vibrating against the back of my head. Wind kissed our faces as his arm looped around my waist, pulling me into him. Sero descended down the hill, Kolibri tethered behind him. I tried to ease my weight, resting against his hard chest, breathing the familiar scent of rainwater and mint.
My fingers swirled in the fabric of his pants, loose over his thigh.
The words were there, layered somewhere inside—yet they didn't feel like enough to cover the mounting relief that threatened to bury me alive. I swallowed the lump burning its way into my throat, and it struck me again how delicate a thing like relief could be.
“You came,” I murmured.
He angled his head, chin brushing the edge of my jaw. “I’ll always come.”
I closed my eyes, willing to let Sero’s steps rock me into submission, when Kolibri brayed angrily behind me. The muscles of Kye’s chest and stomach stiffened. Sero stopped.
Burian knelt in the grass.
Face ashen, he faced us with a single white eye, raised welts along the side of his face. Blood soaked his fingers as he held his arm. He scrambled belligerently to his feet, stumbling as he tried to run away. But his injured leg forced him to limp heavily, lame under the scarlet-soaked slash at his thigh.
“Stay here,” Kye rumbled softly in my ear. He drifted out of the saddle, hand already at the hilt of his sword. I slid out after him, the hard ground jarring to my knees.
Burian fell onto his hip. He rolled to face us, his head listing over his own shoulder, long hair lank and dull.
The world hushed. Crickets and birds held their breath, the trees and grass silencing their swaying as they stopped to listen. The wind vanished, and there was nothing to whisk the strands of hair from my eyes as I met Burian’s gaze.
Kye’s hand steadied me at the small of my back. He drew his sword with his opposite hand, finding my fingers and wrapping them around it. “Just a nick at his throat,” Kye said, tightening his grip around my hand before releasing me.
The space between Burian and me seemed to only lengthen as I stepped toward him. The sun flashed its final rays, disappearing behind the trees. The burden of Kye’s sword dragged my arm down as I walked, leather grip worn smooth under my palm.
Wood creaked.
Burian pushed off his hip, landing on his stomach, and began belly-crawling away from me in the grass. I trailed him like a shadow, cold and silent, unaffected by how fast he moved or how ragged his breath became. Acrid fear thickened around us, sour against the forest air.
