Page 20

I ’d expected my wounded pride to banish any hope of rest—the sting of it sharp enough to keep me awake for the rest of the night. But as I lay beside Luca, his steady presence and the warmth radiating between us lulled me into a fitful sleep.

Hunter tore into my dreams again. But this time, it was different.

Images cycled through my mind like flashes of lightning: a dark cell, his beaten and battered body, the glint of light off bloodied steel.

His green eyes, shrouded in pain, met mine a moment before his screams reverberated in my head, trapped there within the dream.

I bolted upright, my heart pounding. The nightmare Hunter had shared with me left a lingering sickness in my stomach.

I knew what I’d seen was real, and I could do nothing to help him.

Yet again, I was proving to be useless to those I cared about.

I rubbed at my eyes, trying to banish the dream and my futile tears.

I realized I was alone in the shelter and was thankful for the moment of privacy.

A shiver ran down my spine. I heard the screams again, but this time, it wasn’t in my dreams. The high-pitched trill pierced the quiet of the dawn.

I scrambled to my feet, stumbling through the makeshift door and into camp.

People had begun to gather, and I breathed a small sigh of relief when I saw Nico striding toward me.

“Is everything alright, Mic?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I heard screaming and I?—”

A female came barreling into the camp, barefoot and disheveled.

“Help me! Please! I need Sawyer!” she cried as she stumbled and fell to her knees.

The females of the Raven’s Hand rushed to her, all of them speaking at once.

They helped her to her feet, she clung to their clothes, a wild, desperate look in her tear-streaked eyes.

“I need him! I need him now! He has to come!” she wailed.

“Luella, it’s alright. I’m here. What’s happened?” Sawyer arrived, gently taking the hysterical female into his arms, holding her by the shoulders to meet her gaze.

“It’s Mica. He’s got the sickness.” A collective groan rippled through the crowd.

“I went to the healer first, but he refuses to see him anymore. I’m losing him, Sawyer.

I don’t know what to do.” She burst into heavy sobs, her whole body shaking.

“Please,” she choked out. “You have to be there to reconnect his spirit, in case…” Another sob swallowed her words, and Sawyer pulled her closer, her body sagging against him.

“Let me gather some things and we’ll follow you back to Dunharrow,” Sawyer said, handing her off to the others in the camp.

Nico grabbed his arm. “What’s going on?”

“Her boy is dying.”

“Can you tell me more about this sickness? My sources at Mathenholm couldn’t provide many details.”

“Of course not. They’re too busy pretending it’s not happening,” Sawyer scowled. “When the fever sets in, it erodes the bond to our beast. Once the connection is severed…”

“They die,” Nico finished grimly, the color draining from his face.

Sawyer nodded. “I have to go back with her.”

“If there’s nothing that can be done for the boy, why risk it? It isn’t safe with the Hiraethian army scouring the cities.”

“My power lets me skirt the line between the living and the spirit realms. When the boy dies, I’ll have a small window to reconnect his spirit with his beast, or they’ll wander aimlessly for eternity, searching for one another.

The only way to reach eternal rest is if a spirit shifter reunites them.

” He shook off Nico’s grip and stalked off.

“I don’t have time to explain things you should already know. ”

“I’m coming with you. I need to see it for myself. Maybe we could be of some help,” Nico called after him.

Sawyer stopped in his tracks, turning to scrutinize Nico as if he could measure his worth with a single look. “It’s at your own peril, cub king. But maybe it’s exactly what you need to see.”

Lucius and Luca arrived just as Sawyer departed. “Grab your bags, brothers. We’re headed to Dunharrow,” Nico said, ducking into our shelter.

“Dunharrow? Are you serious—or are you partial to suicide these days?” Lucius asked. “And what about Mic? I don’t trust any of them enough to leave her here.”

“No, she’s coming with us,” Nico said and my thoughts faltered, derailed entirely by the weight of his words. The carefully rehearsed argument I’d crafted dissolved on my tongue. I’d come ready to fight for my place beside them, but it seemed the battle had already been won.

“I don’t care if you want to throw your own life away, but I draw the line when it comes to her. You’re being reckless,” Lucius said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“She isn’t a child. She knows her own mind, and if she wants to come with us, then she comes.

None of us can control when the Divine calls us back.

Even if she remains here, there’s no guarantee she’ll be safe.

And like it or not, Lucius, her fate is inextricably tangled with ours. Wherever we go, she goes.”

Nico’s words silenced any further protest from Lu, their truth painting a bleak picture. His shoulders sagged with the reluctant realization that there were no safe places left for us in this realm.

“That is, only if you want to come, Mic. You’re no stranger to grief. Maybe you could be a comfort to them?”

“Umm… yes. Yes, of course I want to go. Thank you, Nico.” My voice caught as I spoke. For the first time, I felt useful—not an obligation to be looked after.

“The woman mentioned a healer,” Nico continued. “This might be our chance to find someone who can help you. I don’t know how long you have until your body fails, and I can’t sit back and watch that happen again.”

I knew we were close when the stench hit us.

Extending an unpleasant welcome that reached us before the city gates even came into view.

A pungent mix of waste and unwashed bodies hung thick in the air like a suffocating fog.

I adjusted the shawl hiding my hair to cover my nose in a futile attempt to block out the smell.

Dunharrow sat in a dry valley. Once, it might’ve been lush and green, but now it was a graveyard of stunted trees and dried brush.

Cobbled streets were littered with garbage, pushed into corners and accompanied by hordes of flies.

Drab buildings in varying states of disrepair lined the streets.

Faded paint peeled from warped wood. Shops and homes stood like ghosts of their former glory.

Busy patrons filled the streets, their heads bowed, somber expressions fixed on their faces.

Amid the filth, vagrants mumbled incoherently, clutching bottles and begging for handouts.

Sawyer led our party deeper into the trenches of the town.

I tried to remain vigilant, watching him for cues, but my gaze kept wandering, appalled by the squalor surrounding us.

He stopped abruptly and held up a fist, signaling us to halt.

With a quick flick of his head, he darted into a narrow alleyway, and we followed close behind.

Nico’s hand closed firmly around mine, anchoring me to his side as we sprinted for cover. The world blurred past until the shadows swallowed us, and he spun me into his arms, pulling me tightly against his chest—a silent promise of protection in the dark.

The streets became unusually quiet for a heartbeat.

People scattered like rats before a storm.

The heavy tread of marching soldiers echoed off the walls.

A detachment of the crown’s army passed by our hiding place, their armor clinking softly.

We pressed ourselves against the wall and held our breath until the last soldier disappeared.

“Hurry, please. My place is just down the street,” Luella whispered, frantic to get back to her son. She led us to a dilapidated building and down a long hallway. Several scantily clad females stood in open doorways.

“Looking for a good time?” they cooed as we passed. This was no place for a mother and child, but just as that thought entered my mind, two scruffy children slipped out of an apartment and disappeared down the street, no parents in sight.

Luella brought us into a cramped room at the end of the hall.

The smell hit me first. It was different from the reek of the streets—stale and cloying, a blend of sour sweat and moldy bread.

I inhaled through my mouth, but the taste still coated my tongue.

It felt like the walls had absorbed the boy’s illness, amplifying its presence.

He lay in the corner on a sagging mattress.

A colorful patchwork quilt was tucked beneath his chin, a bright splash in an otherwise muted space.

Though his body trembled with chills, his cheeks were flushed, and beads of sweat dotted his brow.

Moans slipped past his chapped lips, though his eyes remained closed.

He couldn’t have been older than eight or nine.

My heart sank, knowing there was nothing I could do.

A female sat on the edge of the bed, soaking a rag in a chipped basin and swabbing his forehead.

“This is my sister, Laurel. And this”—Luella rushed to the child’s side—“this is Mica.”

Laurel rose to greet us, offering a tired but warm smile. “My place is across the hall. I can take some of you over there to rest. We don’t have much food, but?—”

“No need,” Sawyer interrupted. “We brought our own. We’re here to help, not to be a burden. Let me take a look at him.” He strode to the bed, placing one hand on Mica’s forehead and the other over his chest. “How long has he been getting headaches when he shifts?”

“It’s hard to say. They were so mild. His weren’t as bad as the others, he?—”

“How long?” Sawyer demanded and Luella jumped.

“It’ll be three full moon cycles in two days,” she answered, her whole body sagging with the admission.

Sawyer sighed, then turned to Nico. “We’ll settle in and wait. It won’t be long now.”