CHAPTER FORTY-ONE（Untitled）Grace

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Grace

I drift in and out of sleep, snuggled into the warm comfort of Branikk's arms.

Then yells from outside jerk me fully awake.

He bolts upright, his hand holding the now-lit glow stone, his head cocked like he can understand the muffled shouts.

I know what it is before he even says a word, because what else can it be?

"The sluagh are here." He presses a hot kiss to my mouth, then heads out into the tunnel, hunched over to move quickly in the low space.

I grab the glow stone and follow, wolves rushing by me on either side, not needing to duck. I move quickly, but by the time I get outside, everyone else is already there. Drake now sits on top of the hill, wings spread, looking ready to leap into the sky. Aurora's down in the clearing with Branikk, Dravarr, Ashley, me, Mist, and all the adult wolf warriors.

It should be plenty. We're trained. We've got this.

Then I look up at the sky, and it's so black I think it's still night. But no. There are simply so many sluagh above us they block the early morning sky.

"Holy fuck," I breathe.

They shriek in unison, and it's so loud it sounds like all the demons of hell being unleashed upon the world, a high ringing note that makes your bones ache.

Then I feel it, the sluagh from both times before. It's up there, watching, waiting. It's coming specifically for me.

Riselda calls out, "Cu sith, remember your designated jobs."

"Do what I do." Branikk picks up the net guns and tosses one of them to Dravarr. Then he shoves as many net cartridges as possible into all of his pockets.

I gather up half the net bags and hand the rest to Ashley. "We're bagging the birds the wolves bring us, but we have to keep hold of them to keep their flocks subdued."

"No, hang them from my saddle," Aurora says, stepping between us. "That will be enough for me to keep control over them."

"Great thinking!"

"I will keep any sluagh from attacking while you're burdened," Mist says, and for once, the cat's voice is deadly serious.

Ashley grabs a couple of the butterfly-net things she brought and lays them at her feet, along with her broomstick. "Just in case."

I stare into the tornado of birds flying overhead, a shiver going through me. "There's no way you can fly into that."

"I've faced sluagh before."

"This many?" I jab a finger at the sky for emphasis.

She frowns and shakes her head.

She's brave. She's here even though she's pregnant because she's the only witch who could fly and come help. When I asked her about it yesterday, she shrugged and said, "In orc culture, the warlord's spouse fights by their side. Besides, the soul stealers are after all human witches. If I don't make sure this world is safe for us—or as safe as Faerie can be—then my baby will never be safe."

I get it. She's right—mothers fight for their children all the time. And humans need to be safe to have a home here. But I never imagined this many soul stealers.

"Aren't we special?" I mutter, my eyes finding Branikk. He stands, legs shoulder-width apart, holding the net gun with ease. He's piled even more fresh cartridges around his feet, and I try to tell myself he'll be fine.

But what if he isn't? What if something happens to him? To me? And I never told him how I feel? Can I live with that?

I open my mouth. "Br—"

"Here they come!" Drake yells. He roars a burst of fire at the first birds to dive toward us. They char to an ash that falls like black snow, melting to nothing before it hits the ground.

More birds follow, and the dragon can't burn this batch, so the fight is on. The orcs and wolves battle to bring down the first set of birds. With nothing to bag yet, I don't have anything to do in those first few moments but watch my husband.

Branikk shoots, knocking bird after bird out of the sky, slapping new cartridges in faster than I ever thought possible.

Dravarr uses his net gun as well, and he's good—especially for someone who didn't get to practice—but he's not Branikk.

Then there's no more time. The first of the wolves runs up to me, a struggling bird trapped in its mouth. I open a net bag and pull it closed as soon as the bird is in, knotting the excess string then tying it to Aurora's saddle.

Over and over, working as fast as I can, I bag bird after bird, some caught from the air by the wolves, some tangled in nets from the guns. But even with Ashley's help, I'm nowhere near fast enough.

But that's good! Everyone's catching and subduing lots of sluagh. Our plan is working.

Even though I can still feel the creepiest of the assholes somewhere near, I start to hope. The thing's clearly a coward, having already fled twice from previous fights. It won't come down for me if the soul stealers are losing. Everything's fine.

Then a brown shape falls from the sky, moving faster even than a diving bird. It bursts into an orange cloud right behind Drake, and Branikk bellows, "Ware the deathsleep!"

Deathsleep. Fuck.

I'm pretty sure anything with the word "death" in it is hella bad.