Page 56 of Claimed By Shadow and Blood (Of Fae and Wolf Trilogy #2)

I yanked my wolf back, wanting to say something to him before he fully died.

She tried to fight me—she’d been caged so long—but I yanked her back harder.

Shifting while bleeding this much wasn’t smart, but I didn’t give a damn.

I was dead either way, and I’d need to be in human form to save the unicorn.

She huffed but receded, and soon my bones cracked back into my human form.

The hot, dry wind chafed my bare body, and the cuts from the blades bled faster.

Kneeling and snarling in pain, I grabbed him by the shoulders and growled in his ear.

“Which do you think will kill you first? Bleeding out? Or the quicksand?”

He choked as blood dripped from the corners of his mouth and frothy red saliva formed at his lips. They moved, but gurgling and gasping was his only response.

This was too easy a death for him.

I yanked the arrow from his leg and pushed him off the boulder, straight over the edge. He sailed headfirst into the quicksand with a heavy plop .

I waited for the satisfaction, and though it didn’t come, nor did any guilt. It was as if killing him meant nothing. He wasn’t the one who’d forced me into this. He was just some knight who hadn’t done his job.

I took a breath and studied the opening to ensure another assassin hadn’t appeared.

A whine drew my attention back to the baby unicorn, which continued to work its legs as if swimming slowly. I kept hold of the arrow and raced around the basin’s edge to get closer to it, taking care not to trip.

“Come here, little one.” The unicorn was still almost a dozen feet away.

The unicorn’s dark gray mane whipped back and forth as it shook its head and another panicked squeal escaped. Its nostrils flared wide and it wheezed, its chest heaving. There was no way to reach it from here.

Not without rope.

Wait. I didn’t have rope, but I did have that dress. If I wanted to retrieve it as quickly as possible, I needed to shift back into animal form.

I hated to leave the arrow behind. It was my only weapon. But if I didn’t, the unicorn would die.

And that was something I couldn’t live with.

Setting the arrow carefully on a nearby rock ledge, I held up my hands. “Just hang on. I’ll be right back.”

I tugged at my wolf, but she lay inside me as if she didn’t have the strength to get up.

Realization slammed into me like a boulder. I was too injured to shift, which meant my time was running out.

I jolted forward, and the pendant dangling from my neck bounced into an arrow wound. Blood coated the pendant and trailed down my body, but I continued to run.

As I rushed back to the original circle where I’d entered the chamber, the unicorn’s cries grew more frantic, breaking my heart a little more. It didn’t understand that I’d be coming back… I hoped it would soon.

My injured feet pounded the stone, causing my injuries to open further. My vision narrowed, my head spun, and my feet throbbed worse than ever. Still, I jumped from the basin and down the path. When I glanced up at the well, crimson water was gushing out stronger than before.

What had they done to that well? Those two had said something was going on with it. Apparently, I’d pissed off whoever was behind this so much that they didn’t want there to be any chance of me surviving this trial.

Torrents of water were pushing out the dirt in broader streams, forming multiple grooves in the sides of the rubble pile and exposing jagged blocks of stone stacked precariously on top of one another.

My gut twisted in warning. This was bad.

Really bad. Especially if the volume of water kept intensifying.

The monster continued to steam and pulse over the edge of the cliff face. It parted itself when I jumped over the chasm, bubbling and curling. Only one red eye opened, and it shut almost immediately.

Thank Fate, the pendant worked for me as well.

Blood slicked the stones behind me, but I didn’t stop. If I did, I doubted I’d be able to run anymore. I jumped from ledge to ledge, picking my way down the rubble mountain while avoiding the sand and gravel that could slow me exponentially.

My breath came in short, shallow bursts, and my hearing narrowed to the pulse of blood and the distant screams of the foal.

Just a few minutes more. Hopefully, the foal could survive that long. I wished I could pack link with it to soothe it.

As I maneuvered around a slate boulder, I glimpsed the entrance sigil. My circle was still there, but the light was duller, the dark pink of the gown and the red-brown of the boots distinct against the darkness. I could still hide in the circle until the end of the trial.

I could hear Many-Greats scolding me. It’s just an animal. Leave it.

But this was about more than an animal. It was more about what these horrible people did to innocent beings in this world.

Rage boiled within me, and I embraced it. There was no way in hell I was going to abandon the baby unicorn and let these assholes win. If I could save it, could the baby unicorn fit with me in the circle?

When the circle appeared in front of me, I nearly cried. I ran to the boots and dress and snatched them into my arms. I could carry the boots by the laces, which now made me thank whoever had knotted them together on me, though I doubted they’d meant for me to be appreciative.

I ran as quickly as possible back up the mountain. The gush of water had grown even stronger, and my stomach twisted with fear as my pace turned into a slow jog. Each time I glanced up, it seemed like there was more water, and the foal’s cries grew louder.

By the time I reached the basin, the unicorn had moved a little closer to the edge of the quicksand. Its panicked voice was hoarse, but when it saw me, its eyes brightened.

My knees nearly buckled, but I caught myself.

Fate help me. How much longer can I keep going? I rubbed one hand over my bleeding chest, wincing at the sting. At least let me to live long enough to save the foal.

Gritting my teeth, I picked up the arrow and used it to cut the gown into pieces. Pink thread snapped as the fabric gave way. I triple-knotted the sections together, layering them as I glanced up at the foal. “It’s all right. I’m gonna get you out. Just stop struggling.”

The unicorn tossed its head again, but its panicked breaths slowed.

I picked up the makeshift rope and attached it to one of the boots to help it go farther. Heart in throat, I tossed it.

The colorful rope shot out over the quicksand and wrapped loosely around the foal’s neck, the boot thudding against its cheek. The unicorn startled and jerked its head back with another squeal.

“Grab it!” I gasped. It was getting harder to speak. “I’ll pull you out.”

Whether it understood me or just acted on instinct, the foal twisted its head and bit down on the knotted dress. I wrapped the rope tight around my hands and began to pull.

My arms ached, my body throbbed, and my head wanted to split in two. My wolf had gone quieter than I ever remembered her being.

The ground trembled, and a heavy tearing sound groaned through the air. Something cracked.

I glanced up to find that the water from the well was surging even faster. A large chunk of mud and earth slid down the side of the well facing the entrance sigil. More crumbling chunks rolled down after it.

Fuck!

Muscles burning, I braced my feet on the rock and heaved. The makeshift rope dug into the raw cut in my hand. Sweat and blood stung my eyes, and the world wobbled around me. Everything tunneled to the rhythm of my arms and feet: yank, slide, brace, and yank again.

The foal scrabbled for traction, hanging on to the rope with its mouth and pulling itself forward. It twisted and winced as if the pressure was increasing on it as well.

Above us, the hiss of water intensified. It poured from the well as if some spell had turned it into a fire hydrant. Another strange, aching groan vibrated through the air, and the water turned an ugly shade of pink.

Black dots swam in front of my eyes. Gritting my teeth, I pulled harder. “Come on!”

With a great sucking POP , the unicorn foal came free, and I fell hard on my butt. It stumbled up the stone embankment. The sky swam above me, and I gasped in another shallow breath.

The unicorn trotted up beside me, its hoofbeats light and shaky. It thrust its head under my arm and jostled me. Its breath whooshed against me, and it whickered in my ear.

“Have to—have to go.” I struggled to stand.

I managed to get one foot under me and pushed hard, using the unicorn’s surprisingly sturdy neck for leverage. Then I was up, but barely, hunched over and reeling as the world continued to shake around us.

Rock dust fell in stinging showers, and the rumble built from a shiver to a growl. My teeth clacked as the mountain convulsed. The unicorn whinnied, high and terrified, as water geysered from the cracked well like an erupting volcano, turning the entire far slope into a landslide.

Mud, boulders, and broken slabs careened down the mountainside in a red-black river. The far end of the mountain sheared away, an entire segment breaking off and plummeting toward the entrance sigil.

“Go,” I rasped, pushing the unicorn away. “Save yourself.”

The foal shook its head, keeping its position against me. I gripped the venom-tipped arrow just as the ground under my feet dropped, pitching me sideways. Still, the unicorn went with me, helping me to keep moving forward.

Shoving the foal ahead of me, I dodged the first volley of falling rocks. The pendant bounced on my chest as I ran, and its energy thrummed into my skin.

A massive crack split the ground ahead. The foal skidded to a halt as stones tumbled into the new abyss.

“Jump!” I hurled myself at the unicorn and hooked one arm around its neck, and together, we did.