Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 127722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
“Huntley?”
He was quiet.
“Oh my gods, you’re hurt.”
“Keep riding.”
“We need to stop—”
“They can’t see us stop. Otherwise, they’ll come for us again.”
After an hour of riding and no pursuit, I stopped in the middle of the trees and dismounted.
Huntley practically fell off. He had to grip the horse as a crutch the entire way down, and he nearly lost his footing when he reached the ground. He lowered himself to his knees on the grass, and that was when I saw the damage.
Several dozen arrows were lodged in his back.
“No…”
He lowered himself to the ground and lay on his side. His face was ghostly white, and for the first time, he actually looked weak.
“I…oh my gods…Huntley.” I was in shock. The whole time we were riding, he was taking those arrows to his back, and he didn’t give any indication that it was happening. He was calm the entire time. His body didn’t jerk every time they sank into his flesh.
Now I knew why he’d put me in front.
I sawed the arrows down to the tips so I could remove his cloak. His armor was underneath, but it hadn’t been enough to stop all the arrows. There were dents where other arrows had struck and bounced off. Others had only impaled the material and not his flesh. But the rest…made it through.
There were at least six of them.
“Get the arrows out.”
“You’ll bleed out.”
“I heal quickly…remember? I can’t heal…can’t heal…if they stay inside.”
I could barely see right now. The tears were too much.
“Baby…I’ll be fine.”
I fisted the first one and tugged.
He gave a grunt when it pulled free, some of his flesh on the tip.
The tears got worse.
With a steady hand, I did each one, tugging it out and letting the pool of blood drip to the ground. I rushed to the horse and grabbed the emergency supplies Ian had packed for us. I found cotton gauze and returned to wrap him up, to put pressure on the wounds to stop the bleeding. “I’ve never fixed a person before…but I can try.”
“It’s fine.” He closed his eyes. “I just need a minute.”
I remained squatted down beside him, my tears dripping onto his arm.
“Stand guard.”
I did my best to swallow my tears and get to my feet, because he was right. We were in the middle of nowhere, stopping without taking a look around, and I had no idea what new dangers awaited us.
I stepped away from him and scanned the area.
We were alone.
My gaze passed over the brush and trees. It was all green, but then there was a spot of black, and I halted. My head slowly turned back to see what had caught my eye. It was probably a rock. A boulder that was dark like the nighttime.
My eyes settled in place…and my heart leaped into my throat.
We weren’t alone.
He stood just on the outskirts of the tree line, almost blending in with the surroundings because he was so still. His eyes were so dark they looked like graphite, and his pronounced cheekbones made his expression seem feral. He looked young, not more than a few years older than me, and his dark-blue garb was a color I hadn’t seen anyone wear before. But the most telling aspect of him at all was his skin.
It was fair in most places…but black in others.
My breaths came out shaky, and for the first time in my life, I felt fear in its purest form. As a prisoner in the Crags, I was scared, but that felt like a vacation compared to this moment. He wasn’t Teeth. He wasn’t a Plunderer. He wasn’t a Rune. Wasn’t an outcast.
Necrosis.
Without taking my eyes off him, I withdrew my blade from the scabbard and gripped the hilt with both hands. A level of focus I’d never known descended on me, a second vision, a surge of energy. My life was on the line—and was so my husband’s.
He held my stare without blinking. Without breathing. He was the stone in the mountain, an inanimate object, not a living person. His thoughts weren’t written on the surface of his face, like he was empty inside.
It made me more afraid. It made me afraid because I didn’t understand my opponent whatsoever. Couldn’t gauge his thoughts. Couldn’t gauge his emotions. His intentions. I continued to grip my sword and wait for him to step into the clearing to fight me. Huntley was too unwell to take up his sword, so it would just be me.
Then he disappeared.
It happened so fast, I didn’t actually see him leave. He was there. And then he was gone. The blackness faded from the greenery, and the only indication I had that he had been there was the rustle of the bushes nearby—like he just passed through.
With my sword in hand, I made sure my eyes never left the greenery where he’d been.