Page 29

Before either Arabella or Breckett could object, Jessamine was running back toward Hadeon—and the zaol that had gotten dangerously close to them. It was less than half a mile away, its dark silhouette looming atop a sandy hill.

They watched as Jessamine hurdled toward where the fae prince flew at the zaol.

Hadeon slashed with his sword, but the blade didn’t connect.

The swing was slower than it had been hours ago and missed its mark.

The demon lashed out with one of its too-long arms, and it slammed into the prince’s back.

He was flung down into the sand, barely managing to tuck his wings in before rolling down a nearby hill.

As the demon moved to strike at him a second time, Jessamine leaped between them, her sword arcing up at an unusual angle and slicing off several of the creature's fingers before its claws could sink into Hadeon’s wings.

Then Breckett turned and ran. His breaths turned into gasps, and sweat poured off him as she fought to stay awake.

“Save your strength,” he rasped, glancing down at her. “I have a feeling we’re going to need it if we make it to those mountains.”

Reluctantly, she nodded and closed her eyes, slipping into unconsciousness.

She dreamed of dark skies and darker horizons, of Shadowbank set aflame, and Elias’ castle buried beneath the sea.

She raged against hordes of demons, fighting to push them back.

But no matter how many times she swung her sword or released her magic, the villagers fell one by one, succumbing to sharp fangs and curved talons.

Blood-strewn bodies littered the ground, and she found herself searching for one face in particular.

There was a male on his stomach, his face in the dirt. His body was streaked with grime and soot, but she knew the shape of those arms. And how they felt when they wrapped around her. As she reached toward him, the ground shook beneath her.

Suddenly, there was a sensation of her flying.

She opened her eyes.

The world spun around her before she crashed into coarse sand, rolling several times. Blinking, she tried to get her bearings, but her vision continued to spin. She shook her head, sinking her fingers into the sand and willing her vision to clear.

They were at the base of the mountain range.

It stretched in either direction as far as the eye could see, and a thick layer of mist hovered around the mountain directly before them. Far above, she thought she spotted snow on the mountaintops, but she couldn’t be sure.

Unlike the mountainous forest near Shadowbank, these seemed to be mostly bare of trees. Instead, they were dotted with stones and large sections of moss.

Strangest of all, the sands of the endless desert simply stopped at the base of the mountains. Two separate terrains from completely different climates collided and formed a stark line where one ended and another began.

Glancing around, she spotted a body several feet away and crawled toward it.

Nearby, there were screams of pain along with the zaol’s roar.

Fingers digging into the sand, she barely managed to haul herself over to where Breckett lay facedown in the sand.

With all her strength, she shoved him sideways.

When she didn’t see the rise and fall of his chest, she lifted a hand and struck him above his heart.

To her relief, he coughed and muttered, but he didn’t open his eyes.

His breaths came in a wheeze, and she didn’t miss how his beauty was sharper than ever.

Being near him had her desire sparking instantly, and she clamped her thighs together.

He needs to feed.

She wondered if his eyes would turn black and his canines would grow—like Elias’ had when he didn’t have enough essence. Because surely, he was ravenous after traveling all this way.

One problem at a time.

Turning her gaze toward another bellow of the greater demon, she spotted Hadeon on a knee, one hand pressed to his shoulder. Blood flowed between his fingers. Jessamine blocked several blows from the zaol, but her movements were slower than they should be.

They were all exhausted.

Please, she thought toward that strange, too-thick mist. If you’re here, help us.

She hoped the shadow fae were nearby and felt her magic. Traveling north toward the mountains had been a gamble, and they were about to find out if she had been right.

No, not her. The presence.

The weight that had settled on her shoulders slowly lifted, dissipating in the stirring breeze.

“Where are you going?” she croaked, feeling her lower lip split.

Jessamine’s scream rended the air. Slowly, Arabella turned toward the zaol.

She summoned the shadows, knowing it would take all her remaining strength. But she pulled the dark from the immense desert, breathing it in until it filled her.

As before, her emotions faded to the background. The immediacy of her fear retreated until it was like the ocean’s waves crashing miles away. Her senses sharpened, and she realized she could see a few feet into the mist. Were those footprints at the base of the mountain?

The strange presence returned, wrapping around her like a cloak, and she didn’t question it.

She welcomed the power that came with it.

Something bubbled up her throat. When she opened her mouth, a language she didn’t know spilled from her lips.

The voice didn’t sound like hers. It was harsh and guttural, and the words came out in a hiss.

As she spoke, the mist stirred as though awakening.

Come , she willed. Come now .

Just as suddenly as the unknown language had flowed into her, the power faded. It was as though the cloak slipped from her shoulders—and with it, the shadows retreated into the sands.

The last of her strength spent, she collapsed in the sand beside Breckett.

Either they would die, or help would come. They were entirely at the mercy of the mountains.

Before her eyes fluttered closed, booted feet emerged from the mist.