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My first arrow hit the closest soldier in the side of his neck. Demos kicked him free, and I saw the moment he realized what I’d done.

He never looked up. But he killed the other two with fresh rage. And the next three Eprothans who attacked after that.

That was fine. My fury had returned too. Because this was where Demos had decided to die. He knew eventually his sword arm would tire and his movements would slow. He was simply trying to take as many Eprothans with him as he could.

Cryton and I fired arrow after arrow. The soldiers hadn’t been expecting it, and several of them fell, making life difficult for those behind them, who were still attempting to get into the pass.

Cryton turned his attention to the Eprothans who still had some magic left, while I fired relentlessly at theclosest soldiers.

They caught on to our position quickly, and their own archers began firing back. Both of us ducked our heads, and several arrows thunked into the rock behind us. My hands wanted to shake, but I clenched my teeth, forcing them to steady.

And then the Eprothans began screaming.

Not the soldiers closest to us.

But the Eprothans’ rear guard.

They were under attack.

The first fragile thread of hope wound through me. Please.Please.

“Who is it?” Cryton muttered.

“I don’t know.” I peered into the distance, where fae orbs cast a dim light over the Eprothans’ foot soldiers. “I think they’re humans. They’re not wearing uniforms or armor…”

The Eprothans began to scatter. Our soldiers sprinted into the pass, and Cryton and I kept firing, until most of the front lines decided not to follow them. One of their generals screamed at them to reform the lines, and Cryton’s arrow went through his eye.

I winced.

That was enough to buy us some time. Whoever was attacking, it would allow Demos and the others to get through the pass.

“Let’s go.”

Strangely, wiggling down the side of the rock was easier than going up had been. A few footspans from the ground, I let go, expecting my feet to hit the path.

Instead, I landed in someone’s arms.

Panic slammed into me, but it was Demos’s mouth that caught mine in a brief, hot kiss.

“One of these days you’re going to learn to follow my orders.”

“Who is it? Who is attacking?”

He shook his head with a stunned laugh. “Caddaril the Cleaver and his criminals. He must have rounded up several thousand men. I’m betting most of them abandoned Regner’s army or disappeared right around the time conscription was announced.”

Demos nodded at Cryton, and together with the remainder of Demos’s “good soldiers,” we sprinted into the pass.

Herne had talked us through what to do with his traps, and together, we rolled a dark red rock into place, covered up several neatly dug holes, and laid the trip ropes.

And then we ran.

The pass narrowed, and we only had a single light orb between us. Gwynara had waited for us, and my chest lightened at the sight of her, alive. But she was clearly out of magic, and she simply gave us a relieved nod.

Our sprint became a jog, which became a slow trudge.

The hours passed mostly in exhausted silence. Demos kept hold of my hand, refusing to release it. “We lost over half the hybrids we arrived with,” he told me at one point, his voice a low, lifeless murmur.

At least fifteen hundred hybrids hoping for a new life. For freedom.