“Maybe we should—” The words died in the back of her throat when she saw drops of crimson staining the snow-covered ground. She froze. “Blood.”
A trail of it.
Deep scarlet against glittering white.
Lir was beside her a second later, one curved blade drawn. His silver gaze narrowed. He stood close, and they shared a glance. He put one finger to his lips, then pointed with his sword.
She nodded.
One step at a time, they trekked forward, their footfalls as light as possible against the snowy forest floor.
Then Lir’s arm shot out, holding her back.
And Maeve realized why.
Propped up against the wide trunk of a tree was a fae, a soldier of the Winter Legion. He looked like he’d been mauled by some type of animal. Slashes tore across the fine leathers of his armor, revealing deep wounds to his chest. Blood soaked his front and with every breath he took, the life shuddered out of him. His skin was ashen, sweat coated his brow despite the cold temperature, and his lips were cracked and peeling. One hand was outstretched, reaching for the fallen sword by his side.
He was dying.
“Lir.” Maeve’s whisper was harsh against her own ears. “We have to help him. I can help him.”
She could. She could do it this time. It wouldn’t be like when Shay died, she could save this male. She wouldn’t fail. Not again.
The commander hesitated.
“Please, Lir.” She grabbed his arm. “We can’t leave him here. He’ll die.”
Lir’s steely gaze surveyed the forest for any possible threat, but he relented. “Alright, my lady. Let’s get him out of here. We’ll carry him out of the woods and then you can heal him.”
“Okay,” Maeve agreed, inching closer. “Okay.”
The fae’s face twisted, contorting in agony. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words were garbled. Blood spilled from his lips as he choked, struggling to speak to them.
“Shh.” Maeve smoothed his damp hair back from his slick brow. “It’s okay, we’re going to help you.”
The soldier jerked violently.
“Be calm.” Lir wasn’t nearly as reassuring in his manner. “I’ll take him from under the shoulders. Grab his ankles, my lady.”
Maeve bent down when the glint of something gold on the ground beside the injured soldier caught her eye. Her brows pinched together. “What’s that?”
Lir knelt beside her, then shook his head, dismissive. “Looks like an amulet of some kind. Possibly a family heirloom.”
An heirloom…
No, this was no ordinary necklace. It looked far too new to be an heirloom. The gold disc hanging from the chain was engraved with a bundle of springtime flowers strangled by a vine of foiled leaves.
“Why would a fae of Winter be in possession of something like this?” Maeve reached for it and the fae male thrashed.
“My lady!” Lir startled. “Wait!”
Lir grabbed Maeve’s arm just as she grabbed the amulet.
Darkness swarmed them.
A pounding pressure slammed into Maeve, crushing her, stealing all the air from her lungs. She cried out as pain seared through her, piercing her from every angle. The world raged around her, a brutal force that left her disoriented and nauseous. It was like she’d been plunged beneath the surface of a turbulent sea, the volatile waves tossed her around, wrenching her back and forth until she thought her soul would be ripped from her body.
The pressure continued to build, squeezing her until she could no longer catch her breath.
