Chapter 28

28

KASSANDRA

T he final wraith falls to the ground in a tangle of lanky limbs and yellow, putrid-smelling blood.

Blaze stands over the corpse, panting, his massive chest heaving.

I take a moment to study the clearing, ensuring that all of the monsters have been dispatched, before allowing the harbara to return to its bracelet form. I then search the ground until I find my abandoned glove and pull it back on. It’s covered in yellow blood and gore, but I don’t dare leave my hand bare, not around the males.

“Well…” Aleksander kicks at one of the bodies with a low whistle. “That was fun. Just what I needed to start my day. Who doesn’t love a good old-fashioned beheading?”

“Is everyone okay?” I ask, somewhat desperately.

My hands are shaking, but I don’t know if that’s from fear or adrenaline.

Blaze’s scowl softens at the corners. “I’m okay, little beast.”

“As am I.” Aleksander pauses, then adds, “But I could use a bath. Don’t ask me how it happened because I won’t tell you, but I seem to have gotten some guts up my asshole. Quite the predicament, I say.”

“And Treyton?” I sign, scanning the clearing once more.

But I don’t see him.

Panic claws its way up my chest and constricts my airways. My breaths come out in harrowed gasps.

Blaze exchanges an unreadable glance with Aleksander before focusing on me. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Then where is he?” I demand.

It’s times like these that I wish I were able to speak. I want to scream, yell, cry, but all that comes out is a gurgled gasp.

“The lazy bastard is probably sunbathing while we took care of the wraiths,” Aleksander says jovially as he comes to stand beside me.

He flings an arm around my shoulders and pulls me against his chest. It’s not a gesture meant to comfort me. No, this is meant to protect me.

But from what?

Despite Aleksander’s lighthearted tone, his eyes scan the Forest with a keen intensity. His grip on me tightens.

“Over here,” Blaze calls from somewhere farther ahead.

I attempt to break free from Aleksander and race to the Fall Prince, but the elf doesn’t release me. He simply moves the two of us to where Blaze and Runt are.

Runt has his nose to the ground as he stalks forward, and Blaze is crouched, one hand holding away foliage to reveal the footprint in the mud.

“Treyton’s?” I ask, my hands still trembling.

“I believe so.” Blaze allows the foliage to fall back into place and then straightens. “Runt led me to it.”

The pacon, as if hearing his name, glances over his shoulder and cocks an eyebrow, the eloquent gesture seeming to say, Are you coming?

I, once again, try to run forward.

And I’m, once again, stopped by a huge, annoying elf.

Aleksander keeps his arm around me, pulling me closer to his side. At this point, our bodies are flush together. Every hard ridge of his body presses against my own. In any other circumstance, I might’ve blushed, but I’m too consumed with fear for Treyton to be anything but annoyed.

“We need to go,” I sign in desperation.

Aleksander ignores me and keeps his attention on Blaze. “What do you think happened to Treyton?”

“It doesn’t look like there was a struggle,” Blaze murmurs, frowning. “Aside from the footprints, the Forest seems relatively unchanged. No trampled foliage or imprints on the ground.”

“So he left willingly?”

“Perhaps.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Maybe he got scared?” Blaze sounds as if he doesn’t even believe himself.

“You may hate the guy, and I don’t blame you, but even you can admit that he wouldn’t just take off on his own.” Aleksander’s eyes flick to me nearly imperceptibly.

I wave both my hands to garner their attention. Only when I’m sure they’re focused on me do I sign, “Something must’ve happened to him. We need to find him!”

Terror squeezes my heart in an iron vise, pressing down and causing it to bleed anew.

What could’ve happened to the Spring Prince?

Was it a wraith?

Something else entirely?

Is he hurt?

Dead?

“You need to take deep breaths, little beast.” Blaze is suddenly in front of me, his hands on my shoulders, his chest rising and falling steadily.

I work to mimic his steady breathing. In and out. In and out.

“We’ll find him,” Aleksander assures me, spinning a knife in his hand.

His sharp eyes remain fixed on the trees around us.

Runt releases another yip and presses his nose to the ground once more.

This time, when I move to follow the pacon, Aleksander doesn’t stop me.

“Why do I have a feeling this is going to end in blood, death, and misery?” Aleksander whispers to Blaze, making sure to keep his voice low.

“Because you're a pessimist?” Blaze drawls.

“I prefer to say I’m optimistically unoptimistic,” Aleksander quips.

“Is that even a word?”

“ Prefer?”

“No, dumbass. Unoptimistic. It sounds weird.”

“My favorite words are the ones that do sound weird,” Aleksander says seriously.

I tune out their banter as I follow Runt as fast as I can. Fear for Treyton is a noose coiled around my neck. Sooner or later, the floor will drop out from underneath me, and I’ll be forced to dangle there, suffocating, gasping for air.

The only saving grace is that I can heal him if something were to happen to him. I’ll take on any injury if it means that he’ll live.

But can you bring the dead back to life? an acerbic, angry voice drawls in my head.

He’s not dead.

I would be able to tell if he is.

Because…

Because…

Because he’s mine .