Something feral and possessive ripped through my chest.

  I was moving before conscious thought caught up, my boots finding purchase on blood-slick stone as I tore across the cavern. Behind me, someone shouted my name—Lincatheron, maybe, or Cindrissian—but the sound was meaningless noise against the roar of fury in my ears.

  The woman spotted me coming. Her mouth curved into something cruel and satisfied.

  “Well, well,” she called out with the same sharp authority I’d heard echoing through the passages. “The little human who thinks she’s⁠—”

  She didn’t finish.

  She tossed Varyth aside like discarded cargo. He hit the ground hard, chains rattling, and his eyes found mine—pale silver, half-conscious, and suddenly widening with terror.

  “Isara?” His voice was raw, broken, but urgent.

  The woman’s boot slammed into his ribs, cutting off whatever warning he’d been trying to give. The sound of impact made my teeth ache.

  She drew two short swords from her back, spinning them once in a show of skill that was probably meant to intimidate. “I’m going to enjoy killing you almost as much as I’ll enjoy telling her about it.”

  Her again. That mysterious she who’d felt magic, who these soldiers answered to.

  I didn’t care.

  I was already calculating distances, angles, the space between the woman and where Varyth lay gasping on the ground. The obsidian collar around his throat gleamed in the lantern light, runes pulsing with sickly energy that made my skin crawl.

  Far enough apart. They were far enough apart.

  The woman shifted into a fighting stance, those short swords held with a competence that suggested centuries of training. “Aren’t you going to fight, little⁠—”

  The black fire erupted from my hands in a torrent of cold fury.

  It hit her mid-sentence, mid-breath, mid-smirk. The flames consumed her so fast she didn’t even have time to scream, just a brief, choked sound of surprise before the shadow fire turned her to ash and memory.

  I was already moving, already dropping to my knees beside Varyth before the last embers faded.

  Behind us, the sounds of combat continued. Steel on steel, screams, the wet sounds of violence. But it was distant, muffled, unimportant compared to the way Varyth was looking at me with eyes that couldn’t quite focus.

  “Get the fucking collar off,” he rasped, every word seeming to cost him. “Now, Isara.”

  My hands moved to the obsidian band around his throat, fingers searching for a seam, a lock, any kind of mechanism that would let me remove it. The crystal was ice beneath my touch, colder than it should be, and those runes pulsed with a rhythm that felt wrong.

  Nothing. No seam. No lock. Just smooth, unbroken metal that seemed fused directly to his skin.

  “I can’t—there’s no—” Panic clawed at my throat.

  “The daggers.” Varyth’s hand caught my wrist, his grip weak but desperate. “Moonsilver. Nyxarian metal. They can break it. They’re made to break it.”

  I looked down at the blades clutched in my hands, blood-slicked and gleaming.

  “Turn your head,” I commanded, my voice steadier than I felt. “Away from me. Now.”

  Varyth obeyed without argument, exposing the side of his neck and the collar that was slowly killing him.

  I raised the first dagger, aimed for where the collar sat against his collarbone, and brought it down with every ounce of strength I possessed.

  The impact sent shockwaves up my arm. The runes flared brighter, angry, like the collar was fighting back.

  Again. I struck again, moonsilver against obsidian, the sound ringing through the cavern like a bell.

  A hairline crack appeared.

  “Again,” Varyth gritted out. “Don’t stop.”

  I didn’t.

  Third strike. Fourth. Fifth. My arms burned with the effort, sweat dripping into my eyes, but I kept hitting the same spot over and over until⁠—

  The collar shattered.

  Obsidian shards exploded outward, those pulsing runes dying like extinguished stars. The pieces clattered to the ground, inert and powerless, and Varyth sucked in a breath that sounded like resurrection.

  Power flooded back into him. I could feel it, the sudden surge of magic that had been dammed up behind that collar now pouring free. Mist began to coil around his arms, his shoulders, alive and furious and absolutely devastating.

  His eyes found mine, fully focused now, burning with something that made my breath catch.

  His hand came up to cup my face, fingers surprisingly gentle despite the violence surrounding us. “Are you hurt?” His thumb brushed across my cheekbone, my jaw, checking for injuries.

  “I’m fine, I’m not⁠—”

  “Good.” His expression shifted, gentleness replaced by fury so fast it gave me whiplash. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

  I blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “Coming here. Putting yourself in danger.” His hand dropped from my face, but only so he could grip my shoulders. “You should have stayed at the castle where you were safe. Where you were supposed to be.”

  Heat flared in my chest, pure, undiluted rage. “You’re joking. You’re actually⁠—”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?” He gave me a small shake, just enough to emphasize his point. “You could have been killed. You have children, Isara. What the fuck would they do if something happened to you?”

  “Don’t.” I shoved his hands off my shoulders, fury making my vision clear. “Don’t you dare use my children as a weapon against me. Not when you’ve been here for two days being tortured while I didn’t even know.”

  “That’s not the⁠—”

  “You don’t get to be pissed at me for coming to help you when you’re the one who was stupid enough to get captured in the first place.” I was on my feet now, standing over him, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. “And you especially don’t get to act like I’m some fragile thing that needs to be locked away for safekeeping.”

  Varyth pushed himself up, wincing as the movement pulled at whatever injuries he’d sustained. “I’m not.”

  “You are.” Black fire flickered along my fingers, responding to the fury in my chest. “You want to know what I was thinking? I was thinking that the man who’s been keeping my children safe was in danger. That maybe, just maybe, I could actually be useful instead of sitting around waiting to be protected.”

  His jaw clenched, mist thickening around him. “That’s not⁠—”

  “Save it.” I turned away, already reaching for the chains that bound his wrists. “We can argue about my apparently catastrophic decision-making later. Right now, we need to get these off before more of those pricks arrive.”

  “I know.” He said, the words were quiet, still angry but edged with something else now. “I just—when I saw you charging in here⁠—”

  “You what?” I demanded, yanking at the chains with more force than necessary. “Were worried? Terrified? Welcome to how I’ve felt every day since crossing the Veil.”

  He was quiet for a long moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was rough. “I’m sorry.”

  “For getting captured or for yelling at me?”

  “Both.” A pause. “Mostly for yelling at you when you just saved my life.”

  I finally got the chains loose, tossing them aside with more violence than strictly necessary. “You’re forgiven for one of those things.”

  “Which one?”

  “Haven’t decided yet.”

  His mouth quirked. “Fair enough.”

  Around us, the sounds of combat were dying down. I caught glimpses of Lincatheron finishing off the last soldier, Fenric’s obsidian spikes retracting back into the stone, Cindrissian materializing from shadow with blood painting his elegant features.

  “How many more?” Lincatheron was already moving, already planning.

  Varyth’s expression was grim. “Enough that we don’t want to be here when they arrive.”

  “Then let’s go,” I said, sliding one of Varyth’s arms over my shoulders despite his weak protest. “Before I have to rescue you twice in one day.”

  His laugh was rough, pained, but real. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  We made it two steps before movement caught my eye.

  A soldier, one I’d thought was dead, lying in a pool of blood near the cavern wall, lurched upright with the desperate strength of someone who knew they were already dying. His hand was already moving, already throwing something into the air before I could shout a warning.

  The object glowed orange and purple, pulsing with a sickly light that screamed wrong to every instinct I possessed.

  “Down!” Lincatheron’s roar echoed through the cavern as he threw himself over Fenric, dark wings snapping wide to cover them both.

  I barely had time to process the motion, barely had time to register Cindrissian vanishing into shadow, before Varyth was on top of me.

  His weight drove us both to the ground, my back hitting stone hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. His wings snapped out, wrapping around us like a shield made of golden feathers and absolute conviction.

  The blast tore through the cavern with enough force to make the mountain itself scream, and I felt rather than heard the moment the ceiling began to collapse.

  Stone rained down in chunks large enough to crush bones. Debris pelted against Varyth’s wings with impacts that made him grunt with pain, his body curled over mine in a way that left no part of me exposed to the devastation.

  The air filled with dust so thick I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, could only feel the solid weight of Varyth above me and the way his wings absorbed blow after blow that should have killed us both.

  His face was inches from mine, blood trickled from his temple where something had caught him despite the wings, but he didn’t move, didn’t even flinch as another chunk of ceiling crashed against his back.

  “Stay down,” he gritted out. “Don’t move.”

  A piece of the ceiling the size of a cart crashed down directly above us. His wings buckled under the impact, trembling with the effort of holding, and a sound of pain escaped him that made something in my chest crack open.

  “Varyth—”

  “I said don’t move.” His arms tightened around me, pulling me closer against his chest as more debris hammered down. “Just—let me⁠—”

  The collapse seemed to last forever and no time at all. Minutes compressed into seconds, seconds stretched into eternity. All I could do was hold onto Varyth while he held onto me, his wings taking punishment that should have shattered bone, his body absorbing impacts that should have killed him.

  Finally—finally—the world stopped ending.

  Silence rushed in to fill the space where chaos had been, broken only by the sound of settling rubble and laboured breathing.

  “Isara.” Varyth’s voice was rough, strained. “Are you hurt?”

  “Am I hurt?” The words came out strangled, fury overriding the shock of nearly being buried alive. “You turn yourself into a meat shield and ask am I hurt?”

  I shoved at his chest, not hard enough to actually move him, but enough to make my point. “Get off me. Get the fuck off me right now.”

  Varyth pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, confusion flickering across his bloodied features. “What?”

  “You just got tortured for two days.” My voice was rising, control slipping like water through fingers. “You were chained to a wall. And you threw yourself on top of me like some kind of⁠—”

  “Meat shield?” he supplied, having the absolute audacity to sound dry about it.

  “You could have died!” The words tore out of me, raw and furious. “That ceiling came down and you—your wings—” I couldn’t even finish the sentence, couldn’t articulate the terror that had flooded through me when I’d felt those impacts hammering against his body.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You are not fine!” I was yelling now, shoving at him harder even as dust rained down around us. “You’re bleeding. You can barely move. What the actual fuck were you thinking?”

  My hands were already reaching to assess the damage. His back, his wings, the places where I’d heard stone impact with sickening force.

  “I was thinking—” He winced as my fingers found a particularly brutal injury along his shoulder blade. “That you didn’t need a cave dropped on your head.”

  “So you decided to take it instead?” The words came out shrill, panic disguised as rage. “You thought the smart move was to play human shield?”

  “Fae shield, technically⁠—”

  “I swear to the gods, Varyth⁠—”

  “IF YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN, I WILL KILL YOU MYSELF.”

  The roar came from across the rubble-strewn chamber, and I twisted just in time to see Fenric standing over Lincatheron with an expression of pure, incandescent rage. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I was doing my job,” Lincatheron’s tone was lethally calm, “that you’re third in command and the only Lunari here. If something happens to you⁠—”

  “I don’t give a shit about chain of command.” Fenric stalked toward him through the debris, obsidian coating his hands like he was debating whether to use it on Lincatheron himself. “You could have been killed.”

  “So could you.” Lincatheron’s wings folded tight against his back, his posture rigid with that infuriating military composure. “And unlike me, you’re actually irreplaceable.”

  “Irreplaceable.” Fenric’s laugh was razor-edged and bitter. “You arrogant⁠—”

  “It’s tactical reality.” But something flickered in Lincatheron’s expression that looked almost like desperation buried under layers of command training. “You know the structure. You know what happens if⁠—”

  “You threw yourself over me like I’m made of fucking porcelain when you’re the one who nearly died three months ago and still has nightmares about⁠—”

  “Why are those of us who followed basic instinct.” Varyth tried to stand, his legs not quite cooperating. “Now the ones being yelled at?”

  “Shut up.” I grabbed his arm, hauling him upright with more force than gentleness. “You don’t get an opinion when you’re bleeding from six different places.”

  “Seven.”

  “I’m going to make it eight if you don’t shut up.”

  “AS TOUCHING AS THIS ALL IS,” Cindrissian’s voice rose above our arguing, sharp enough to make everyone freeze. He materialised from the shadows near what used to be the exit, now blocked by roughly a tonne of collapsed stone. “We are currently trapped in an unstable cave system with hostile forces likely converging on our position.” His crimson eyes swept over us, taking in injuries and fury with equal dispassion. “So perhaps we could save the emotional reckoning for when we’re not about to be buried alive or captured.”

  Silence fell, broken only by laboured breathing and the ominous creak of settling stone.

  “The explosion collapsed the main passage,” Lincatheron said, already shifting back into general-mode, though his gaze flickered toward Fenric for half a second. “Options?”

  Fenric stalked toward the rubble, radiating fury, obsidian crawling along his arms as he assessed the blocked tunnel. “I can clear it. But it’ll take time we don’t have, and the noise will bring every soldier in the mountain down on us.”

  “There’s another way out.” Varyth swayed slightly, and I tightened my grip on his arm before he could pretend he was fine. “Southwest passage. Leads to an old mining shaft that opens onto the eastern slope.”

  “How do you know that?” I demanded.

  His smile was grim. “They spent two days dragging me through these tunnels. I paid attention.”

  “Can you walk?”

  “Can I—” He started to pull away from my support, presumably to prove a point, and immediately staggered. “Yes. Absolutely.”

  “Liar.” But I didn’t let go.

  “Southwest passage it is.” Lincatheron’s wings folded tight against his back as he moved toward where Varyth indicated. “Fenric, take point. Cindrissian, rear guard. We move fast and quiet. If we encounter resistance⁠—”

  “We go through them,” Fenric finished, his tone making it very clear he was still furious and looking for something to kill.

  “Try not to collapse any more of the mountain on us,” Cindrissian added dryly.

  “No promises.”

  We made it three steps before the passage ahead filled with bodies.

  26

  Nyxarian soldiers poured into the corridor like floodwater, their armour gleaming in the dim light, weapons already drawn. Too many. Far too many for our current state. Varyth could barely stand, Lincatheron was bleeding from where debris had caught him, and we were all running on fumes and fury.

  A snarl ripped from Fenric’s throat, something primal and possessive that made the hair on my arms stand up. Obsidian exploded across his hands, crawling up his forearms like living armour.

  Beside me, Varyth made a sound I’d never heard from him before. Low and vicious and wrong, like something breaking inside his chest. His hand shot out, fingers closing around my wrist with bruising force as he yanked me behind him.

  “Stay back.” The words came out guttural. Mist erupted around us in a wave of silver fury, coiling thick and defensive. “Isara, stay back.”

  “I can fight.”

  “Not this time.”

  Fenric was moving too, his body shifting to physically block Cindrissian and Lincatheron even as they tried to push forward. “Get behind me. Both of you. Now.”

  “Fenric, what the hell?” Lincatheron started.

  “I said get the fuck behind me.”

  The desperation in his voice made my blood run cold. Whatever was coming, whatever had provoked this reaction from both of them⁠—

  The soldiers parted.

  A male stepped into view.

  The snarl that tore from Varyth was feral.

  “Don’t,” Fenric bit out, though I couldn’t tell if he was talking to the newcomer or to Lincatheron and Cindrissian behind him. “Don’t fucking move.”