Page 18

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Go.”

His eyes dropped to her mouth briefly, an unconscious movement, but that’s all it took to make her heart beat faster. He grinned when he heard it—that small, barely-there flutter—the dark stubble on his chin contouring the sharp angles of his face in the low light.

“There’s more faeflower in my pack. We’ll be back soon.” He squeezed her hand before standing, leveling a finger at Calcifer.

“You.”

Calcifer bared his teeth, growling.

“Stay here.” That finger shifted to Taly. “Protect her.”

Calcifer settled at that, as though he’d understood. Sometimes, Taly thought that maybe he could.

“Be careful,” Taly called as they picked a direction.

Skye turned to give her one last, heart-fluttering glance before they disappeared into the trees entirely.

Just like that, Taly was alone.

Her breath smoked through her lips, each panted, ragged attempt for air rasping in and out.

Calcifer whined and nudged her shoulder.

“I’m okay,” she wheezed.

The mimic leaned more of his considerable weight against her. Both for her comfort and his own, she suspected. He was an overprotective little monster. He and Skye had that in common.

Every line of that powerful body went taut with awareness, ears twitching back and forth like radar dishes.

“Good boy,” she murmured, idly petting him. He would keep her safe.

Her head fell back, eyes drifting shut as she breathed in the forest. The air smelled of rain-slick bark, moss, and pine—sharp and clean, but laced with rot.

She needed to meditate. To slip into that healing half-sleep.

A breath in. A breath out.

Again—slower this time. Air filled her lungs like shattered glass.

She focused on the sounds of the forest: leaves whispering in urgent voices, the distant cry of a bird, the steady churn of the river rising over the hiss of rain.

Her heartbeat slowed. Her shoulders eased as thought by thought, worry by worry, her soul began to peel away at the edges.

Until, finally, it slipped free.

The blackness pressed in. She was falling. By now, it was a familiar sensation. The first time—the firsthundredtimes—she’d fought it like drowning, gasping herself awake in a claustrophobic panic.

Now, she let it take her.

Darkness latched on like an undertow, pulling her under.

Her body faded. The world dulled. The ache in her muscles unwound as she slipped deeper.

Down.

And down.

Anddown.