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And then she was airborne, shooting across the dark void, legs kicking beneath her as the other side of the portal came into view.

She landed hard, slipping on the wet surface, twisting her knee and rolling across the ice with a cry.

Despite the pain and jarring of her body, she loosed a shaky sigh of relief. She hadn’t slipped across the breadth of the safe zone at least. She was on solid enough ground, and she could hold her own here.

Squaring her shoulders, Thea faced what came next. There were still two more gates to cross, and five reapers to face at the end. If she could free Wilder and Cal first, then they could help her with the reapers, she reasoned, trying to block out the sounds of their screams and the violent lash of onyx power she could see in the distance. There was no sign of more Naarvian steel, but she had her dagger. Her dagger would have to do.

But Thea’s breath was stolen from her as someone emerged from the shadow portal before her.

Wilder.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

THEA

Gods, he was more beautiful than she had ever realised, more fierce, morehersthan she’d ever allowed herself to dream.

Confusion flooded her, as she looked behind his broad shoulders to find that his form was now missing from the clutches of the reaper. The king of wraiths had released him, and now her Warsword was here with her.

Half mad with exhaustion, her body in pieces, Thea peered upon the face she knew so well, the face she had loved for what felt like a lifetime.

‘Thea…’ he said, his melodic voice pained as he watched her scrutinise the reapers, their shadows and their captives. ‘It’s nearly over,’ he told her.

Just hearing his voice aloud made her knees buckle and coaxed a cry of anguish from her lips. What she’d seen, what she’d done during the past two trials – she wanted to tell him everything. He would be the balm to her wounded soul. Everything would be alright, now that he was here.

The scent of rosewood and leather wrapped around her senses. Wilder washere.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to give in to the weariness that clung to her bones and fall into his arms at last. He would catch her. He always did.

‘I know,’ he told her gently, reaching for her. ‘We can get out of here, you and me…’

As the warmth of his hand closed over her shredded, blood-matted glove, his words almost didn’t register. Almost.

But they made Thea flinch, and look up at him with a frown, her fingers clutched in his.

‘I can’t leave the others,’ she said, her words drawing her attention back to where her friends and sister were being tortured on the frozen banks. She couldn’t stand it. She had to move, had to get to them —

‘You can’t save them.’

Thea took a step back, dread curdling in her gut. ‘Wecould save them.’

Wilder shook his head. ‘No. There’s too many. And it’s too dangerous to fight near the chasm.’ He closed the gap between them again and touched the side of her face, tucking her loose, matted hair behind her ear, his silver eyes kind and understanding.

How she longed to lean into that touch, that comfort.

‘But we can save ourselves,’ he told her hurriedly. ‘You can be done with all this madness. You can be free, with me.’

Thea tasted bitterness on her tongue. She took a step back. ‘You would never ask that of me. You would never leave your brother.’

‘I would if it meant saving you.’

‘No.’ Trembling, Thea drew her sword and her dagger. ‘Let me pass.’

‘I can’t do that, Thea.’

‘Yes, you can. Step aside.’

But Wilder shook his head, and out of nowhere, his own blade appeared. ‘You’re making a mistake.’