Page 30

Aftermath

W e’re flying.

Zayne is holding on to me tight. And Thanouq is holding on to Zayne. Huge talons grip his shoulders, and I wince. That has got to hurt. We’re flying low and fast, and soon we leave the heaving mass of chaos behind. It only takes seconds before we reach the small copse of trees where we left the horses.

Thanouq flies low and then drops us the last little bit. Zayne lands on his feet but then topples over, taking me with him. Luckily, I land on top of him, though he’s almost as hard as the ground. His arms are still around me, and I just lie there. Above us, Thanouq circles once—maybe he’s checking that we haven’t broken our necks. From the way he’s glaring down at us, that might very well have been his intention. Then, with a whoosh of his great wings, he speeds back to the fight.

From that last expression, I’m guessing we’re both in for a bollocking when he gets back. But I’m not sorry. We did what we felt we had to do. But not only that—we did some good.

I lie for a few seconds longer, breathing in the scent of Zayne, blood, and smoke. But he is really not that comfortable, and I poke a finger into his side. “You alive?” I ask.

“I am,” he replies. “And that’s something I wasn’t expecting to say.” He sighs, his warm breath brushing the top of my head. “I thought we were dead.”

“Me too.” I wriggle, but his hands tighten around me. “You can let me go now.”

His arms loosen at last, and I sort of roll off and onto my hands and knees. Beside me, Zayne pushes himself to his feet. “You need a hand?” he asks.

I don’t want to admit it, but the answer is a resounding yes. I nod.

I manage to sit back on my heels, but the movement is just about the final straw, and I hug my side with one arm and hold the other out to Zayne. He pulls me gently to my feet, then looks me over. His expression is blank, which is worrying. I guess I’ve moved beyond the teasing, you-look-like-hell stage into the you-look-like-death-warmed-up stage.

“You’re bleeding,” he says.

I glance down. Blood is oozing from between my splayed fingers. Ugh. I sway, a little lightheaded, and he tugs on my hand and leads me to the shade of the trees, where the horses are stamping restlessly. They smell the blood.

“Sit.” Zayne waves me to a boulder, and I totter over and collapse, biting back a whimper. He crosses to the horses and rummages in what looks like Khaosti’s saddlebags, then comes back with the salve, a bottle of water, and bandages. I don’t wait for him to say it. I just tug my T-shirt over my head—the effort very nearly kills me—and hold it against my breasts. He crouches down beside me and slowly unwinds the blood-soaked bandage. I look away, biting my lip so I don’t sound as pathetic as I feel. He wipes away the blood with a cool damp cloth, then gently strokes on the salve. I hadn’t been aware that gentle was in his repertoire—I must be in a bad way. Finally, he wraps a bandage around me, and I slump my shoulders.

“Here, you need liquids.” Zayne hands me a bottle of water, and I take a big swallow, then another, trying to wash the taste of battle from my mouth. He leaves me alone, and I just sit in an almost zombie state until the acute pain fades to a dull ache and I begin to think I might live after all.

We were so close to dying.

Again.

I peer at the crumpled T-shirt balled in my fists and then struggle into it with a sigh. It’s disgusting—it’s totally soaked in blood—but I don’t have many options. Then I slide to the ground, lean my back against the boulder, and close my eyes. I can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about Khaosti still fighting. And the others, of course. But mostly Khaosti.

The sun is high overhead when Zayne taps me lightly on the shoulder. “Khaosti’s back,” he says. “I thought you’d want to know.”

God, he’s being so nice. It’s seriously scary. “I’m not going to die,” I mutter.

A brief smile flashes across his face. “Good.”

I peer past him to where the big black wolf is padding toward us across the sand. I search him for injuries. There’s blood all around his face, but I don’t think it’s his. The tension I’ve been holding inside me unlocks, and I have to blink away a tear. Quickly. God forbid anyone sees me cry.

He’s alive. I want to jump up and run to him. It’s probably just as well that I don’t have the strength—I’d hate for Khaosti to survive the battle and then die of shock. All the same, I can’t hold back a sappy smile as he halts in front of us. Exhaustion is evident in every line of his body. He stares at me with those amber eyes, and I see the man beyond the wolf. I sense that familiar hum of magic in the air, and suddenly, Khaosti is back.

I hold out the water bottle to him, and he takes it, our fingers brushing. He swallows, and I watch the movement of his throat, entranced that he’s here and alive. Just for a little while, I can forget that he hates me, and that I don’t trust him. He moves closer, then sinks to the ground beside me and leans back against my boulder with a sigh.

“Are the others okay?” I ask.

He raises his brow. “They’re fine. Just organizing the surviving slaves, making sure they have enough food to last them until they get to Zandar Aurion.”

I hadn’t thought about what would happen to them once they were free. "Do they know the way?"

"Once we get you to safety, Therion will return and guide them to the city. He'll catch up with them easily on Horseback."

“They’re not going home?” Wherever home was.

He shrugs. “Maybe. Eventually. I doubt there’s anything of their home left.” He hands the water back, and I take a sip. “I hear you joined us,” he says.

My turn to shrug. “We couldn’t let you have all the fun.”

“You did good.”

Wow! Did Khaosti just pay me a compliment?

“We needed the slaves to turn the tide,” he says. “But we couldn’t reach them.”

“Glad to be of help.” I wonder if the girl who helped us free the slaves survived. I hope so—she saved my life. We’re silent after that. But it’s a peaceful silence. Zayne comes over and offers Khaosti some bread and cheese. More wow. I wonder how long this will last. Probably not long. He gives me some as well, then sits down on my other side, and we all munch in silence.

Maybe everything will be all right after all.