Page 38

Leaves fell as if the trees were weeping. The hours of dawn were upon us.

Astrid knelt beside Gunnar, slipping something into his mouth. She was meant to wake me for my shift. Why was she waking Gunnar?

I sat up slowly. Gunnar’s body turned a sickly shade of gray, and his chest stopped moving.

My mind wouldn’t register what just happened until my sight turned to Aiden, already gray and lifeless a few feet away. Astrid moved onto Harald next, lifting the vial to his lips.

Lady Luck, indeed.

“Stop!”

I screamed, hurling myself at Astrid and knocking her to the ground. My shoulder slammed into her ribs, and we hit the earth hard. The sound of the impact was muffled by the dead silence of the forest, broken only by the startled gasps of those still alive.

Harald, Tove, and Clark jerked upright from their uneasy sleep, their faces painted with confusion and fear. Harald’s instincts kicked in immediately. With a growl, he lunged forward and tore me off Astrid, his strong arms locking around my chest like iron bands.

I twisted and kicked against him, desperate to reach her.

“Let me go!”

I snarled, clawing at his arms as I stretched toward the vial dangling from Astrid’s belt.

“Ren! Knock it off!”

Clark shouted, scrambling to his feet, his voice rough with alarm. He reached out to grab me, but I lashed out blindly, shoving him back.

“She killed them!”

I pointed at the two lifeless bodies slumped nearby. The accusation rang through the air like thunder.

Their eyes flicked to the still forms, their expressions shifting from confusion to horror. In the chaos, Astrid’s hand darted toward her belt, her fingers closing around the hilt of a dagger.

“Look out!”

Tove screamed, but it was too late.

Astrid hurled the blade with a sharp, practiced motion, and it arced through the air like a flash of silver lightning. Time slowed as the dagger found its target—Harald.

The blade buried itself in his shoulder with a sickening thud. Harald let out a strangled grunt, his grip on me slackening as his body crumpled.

“Harald!”

Tove shrieked, darting forward to catch him. She staggered under his weight. Her knees buckled as he collapsed against her. Blood spilled from the wound, soaking into his tunic and dripping onto the dirt below. I tried to judge the angle of the dagger. Panic rose in my chest. Had it pierced too close to his heart?

But Astrid didn’t give me time to think. Her hand flew to her side, and she drew her sword in one fluid motion. The steel gleamed in the dim light as she leveled the blade at me.

I had no choice. My hand darted to my belt, fingers wrapping around the hilt of Leif’s dagger. I barely managed to bring it up in time to deflect her strike.

Her sword clanged against the dagger, the sound echoing through the clearing like a bell tolling doom. The force of the blow sent shocks up my arm, and the blade slid along the length of the dagger. It caught the back of my hand, slicing deep.

Pain flared, hot and sharp, and blood welled up instantly, staining the hilt of the dagger. My grip faltered, but I gritted my teeth and held on.

Astrid didn’t hesitate. Her eyes narrowed, and she pressed forward, her sword a blur of lethal intent. I staggered back, my injured hand trembling as I tried to block her next strike. Harald was groaning in pain, Tove screaming for help, and Clark fumbling for his weapon while shouting my name—but all I could focus on was the deadly dance between me and Astrid.

“I am the one who is meant to win,”

Astrid said. Her eyes were red and her body shaking.

“This was supposed to be my victory.”

Wolves and voices called in the distance.

Not right now.

“They were innocent.”

I tried not to look at Gunnar and Aiden’s bodies.

“They meant you no harm.”

“You’re right. I should have killed you first.”

As the wolf howls got closer, Astrid charged at me again.

She never got the chance. Clark’s blade met her in the middle, and he wrapped one hand around her wrists. He allowed her one final breath, one moment where her eyes got wide, before he shut them forever.

Clark pulled his sword from her body. She fell to the floor.

Blood turned the grass red.

“We can’t,”

Harald was fighting for breath as Tove clutched him.

“We can’t stay.”

I turned away from the death and dropped to his side. Blood had saturated his shirt in obscene amounts, staining the fabric deep crimson. Combined with the wounds he’d already taken, he looked wrecked—torn up from too many angles to count.

“I am so sorry,” I said.

His wet hand found mine.

“This isn’t your doing.”

I still felt as if I’d failed them. Clark dropped silently beside me. One look from Harald, and he nodded, reached for Harald’s bag, and passed it to him.

“It’s time, Tove,”

Harald breathed.

The small child sniffled, but found her bag as well.

Together, they reached for their white stones. Before he could throw, he gave us a final look.

“I meant to go to the end with you.”

“Where will you go now?”

I ignored the howl of wolves as they got nearer, and the chatter of voices. We’d been too loud. Others were coming for us.

“Back to the Castello. Marcellus Jasper still owns us.”

It wasn’t a proper life to be returning to, not after we’d all dreamed of something so much grander. But it was a life, and he would get the chance to live it. He’d carry scars forever, but his heart would still beat.

He and Tove tossed their white rocks high, and left behind cold air and sticky blood.

For a beat, neither of us moved. We were seven strong an hour ago. Now only Clark and I remained. It felt very much like losing our armor.

No, I realized. Not armor. Like losing our family.

“Ren, we need to move.”

Clark stood, holding a hand for me.

I blinked my eyes dry, if only for a moment. I afforded Aiden and Gunnar another look, wishing we had time to bury them, before I collected my axe and sword and strung my pack over my shoulder.

Ironic how I’d meant to leave them this morning. Instead, most left me.

“Ren?”

“I’m ready. Let’s finish this labyrinth.”

And we ran.