Chapter 3

Before I could stop him, Tavion wheeled his horse around in the tight space, and the thud when he drove his heels into the horse's sides had me screaming, "Don't you even think about it."

Then the bastard was gone, thundering down the tunnel at breakneck speed, heading for the exit. And, presumably, the palace.

We took too long to turn around, the tunnel walls tight enough our shoulders brushed the ceiling. We didn't make good time riding back. By the time we reached the exit, there was nothing there but the scent of Anaria's blood. For the briefest moment, something deep inside me responded to that smell, some primal and ancient instinct kindling wild panic over her being hurt.

I smelled her everywhere, in the breeze blowing from the woods, in the wildflowers' sweetness, traces of her essence left all over this entire realm, shaped by her hand.

"Tavion's headed for the Wynter Palace." I kicked my horse closer to Torin, fixing my glare on the golden owl perched on her shoulder. "Get your healer. Make it fast."

"Simon." Torin pointed in the direction of the city. "Find Bexley and take him to the palace."

The owl took silently to the air as Torin turned her blank gaze to Tempeste looming above the now-lush forest. "He's a powerful mage, the best healer I know. Chances are, Simon and Bex will beat us there and have Anaria healed and healthy before we even arrive."

"No one touches Anaria without us present. Especially some male we don't know." Raziel's wild eyes darted between Torin, the darkened city, and the Wynter Palace, where Anaria was presumably headed. "Let's not forget, I don't fucking trust you."

"Too bad, because I'm all you have," the seer reminded him. "Remember, I gain nothing if the girl dies, Zor. And if she lives…" Torin's face softened. "If Anaria survives, we will remake this world."

Raz's smile turned frosty, and a hint of blue-black magic thrummed in the air, poised to lash out. To kill. "Pretty words, as usual. But you betray us again, Torin, I'll gut you without blinking an eye."

Even Torin had the sense to snap her mouth shut, and none of us commented on the constant thrum of barely restrained power around Raziel, as if he was fighting a losing battle for control.

I'd seen my friend wipe battlefields clean with his magic for a century, but this…ever since he'd removed the collar—ever since Anaria—his magic had transformed. Become keener. A thundering behemoth of savage power that I both respected and feared.

And prayed he kept ahold of.

"Where is this healer of yours?" I studied the circling Reapers before my eyes dropped to the dark, abandoned city below, no signs of life. "Not still in Tempeste, I hope?" I dismounted, then tore a strip off the bottom of my thick, woolen cloak. Then another, until I had four.

Raziel watched, pulled an extra wadded up cape from his saddlebag, and did the same.

"No, he lives outside the city walls." Torin's face tightened. "But Bexley's powerful enough to remain hidden from the Reapers and clever enough to stay alive. He's there, Simon just has to convince him to help."

"What? Why would he need convincing?" I stared at her in disbelief, Raziel baring his teeth with a low, rumbling growl, tendrils of black magic reaching for the seer like clawing fingers. Torin backed her horse away, fear shining in her face.

"Bexley and I parted on bad terms. And the mage has a history of being generally…difficult. Unless there's something in it for him."

My hands tightened on the reins. For a split second, I was tempted to let Raz finish her off. After years of lies and manipulations, perhaps that would be for the best. She'd used us from the beginning.

Was using us even now.

"You never mentioned your healer wasn't willing, Torin, when you urged us to turn around. I swear to the gods, if you cost us valuable time and Anaria dies, we will kill you." I barely noticed the strain of my tired muscles or the hunger gnawing at my belly.

Only the lying, conniving seer in front of me.

"You tricked us to get back on Caladrian soil." Raz growled, his furious gaze fixed on the seer like a wolf eyeing a rabbit. "Why the fuck would you risk Anaria's life?" The expression on his face…If Torin wasn't terrified before, she should have been.

His shadows snaked around Torin. "If the woman I love dies, nothing will save you."

She swallowed, finally realizing she was trapped between Raziel and me, Tristan in front, Adele behind, blocking any escape.

"She wouldn't have made the two-day journey to Nightcairn, Zor. We all know it." Torin's eyes darted between us. "This was her only chance. Simon can be very…convincing when he has to be. Bexley is the best healer in Tempeste, perhaps all three realms. If anyone can get that poison out of her system in time, it's him. I swear, I want the same thing as you. Anaria's survival is all that matters. Without her, everything falls apart."

I ground my teeth. I didn't know if Torin's claim was bullshite or the truth, and I wasn't about to gamble with Anaria's life. "Adele." I didn't trust her any more than I trusted the seer, but she'd been in that city for twenty years.

"Have you ever heard of this Bexley? The healer?"

"I know of him." Torin clicked her tongue and Adele's smile turned serpentine. "Even in prison you hear things, Torin, and sometimes, when Solok required certain…special services performed, Bexley was who they'd call. None of us ever wanted to hear his name, trust me."

I licked my cracked lips. If this Bexley healed the sort of damage Solok dealt out in the dungeons, perhaps he could heal Anaria.

Raz's horse danced sideways. "We have to get moving, Zor. We're wasting time here."

I eyed the Soul Reapers again, the route we'd have to take to reach the palace barely visible above the mists. The trip up the mountain would take an hour.

Longer, if we were careful.

"Quietly, then. In two groups," I decided. "Raz, you and Torin go first. When you reach the bottom of the path, bind their hooves. That will muffle the sound." I warned him softly. "Do not kill her, no matter how badly you want to. We bring those Reapers down upon us and we're fucked. Tristan, go with them. Adele and I will follow when it's safe."

Raz didn't hesitate, heading into the trees, Torin right behind him. Tristan brought up the rear, flipping his cape over that flaming hair. When they vanished, I rubbed the back of my neck, eyes fixed on the lazily floating Reapers. They didn't seem to be guarding the city. In fact, they didn't seem to be doing anything at all.

"How long do we wait?"

I jerked my head toward the forest and the rocky foothill where the path to the palace began. "When they get halfway up that trail, we'll move. With luck, the Reapers won't notice us in the dark, if we don't make noise."

Waiting was killing me, but this was the smart move.

Raz had healing magic. I didn't.

If Torin's healer didn't arrive, he could help Anaria in ways I could not. He could protect her using his magic. But I twisted my hands tighter in the reins until my fingers went numb.

"Magic that corrupts everything it touches." Adele, like me, kept her eyes fixed on the palace spires. "What are the chances a common healer can get something that ancient out of my daughter?"

"They'd better be one hundred percent, or I'll slaughter the seer and the healer both."

That threat hung in the air until three shadowy forms started up the twisting mountain path.

Adele was smart enough not to say anything when we reached the bottom of the rocky path and I dismounted, then bent down to bind the thick, woolen strips around our horse's hooves.

Not a perfect solution, but the fabric would muffle our steps.

I kept staring at those pale spires, rage building in my chest, hope withering by the minute. After all we'd been through, Anaria could not die. She couldn't, not when we'd finally found each other. And she was the first good thing I'd found in my long, wicked life.

I'd spent my entire life in the shadows and Anaria was the light, but together we would create a better world than the one that came before. Because sometimes lights shine brightest against the darkness.

And we had so much more to do together. One more wicked realm to topple, another corrupt king to kill.

A new kingdom to forge.

My heart squeezed when I pictured Anaria sitting on the throne, a crown perched atop her head, that look of fierce determination on her beautiful face. My princess was destined to rule, born to become something greater than any ruler before.

Not die in the ruins of a kingdom she'd destroyed, at the hands of the gods she was supposed to replace.

And I would crawl through fire to make sure Anaria realized her greatness. I would slaughter her every enemy, exterminate every threat, then watch a new, better world be reborn by her hand.

I rubbed the mark on my chest absently, an echo of pain throbbing there.

I didn't dare wonder if that ache had something to do with the pain Anaria was enduring right now.

"Go slow and let your horse pick his way along the path. Slower is better, and we don't want to have to outrun those."

I kept my eyes on the circling wraiths as we started our agonizingly slow journey, every gust of wind overlaid with the faintest hint of jasmine and amber, as if Anaria was with me every step of the way.