Page 34 of The King’s Man (The Kingdom of the Krow #3)

~ JANN ~

When she disappeared I tried to follow, but I tripped and fell, and the pain my chest was so consuming, for a moment I thought my heart might actually give out.

I could feel her slowly, but surely moving away. And it devastated me.

I tried to call after her, but my voice was breathy and weak, the pain making me shake. I sat heavily and rubbed at my chest where the bond thrummed and squeezed.

Panic wanted to steal my mind, but I made myself focus.

As I’d suspected, she was heading for her brother.

The man would want me dead when she told him. But I could face that kind of challenge. The problem I couldn’t solve was her. I needed her like breathing. I had to find a way to make her listen.

I pushed to my feet and stumbled forward, but it was difficult to breathe. My ribs creaked and the pain of the torn bond grew.

It was half a day’s travel to Jhonas through these fucking mists that already boiled and shifted around me. If I could survive to get close enough to the Shadekin camp, I’d be safe from the mists, but they might shoot me in my tracks before I could explain…

But what choice did I have? I couldn’t let her abandon me—couldn’t let her return to Theynor without me. I had to follow.

My throat burned almost as badly as my chest. My lips were dry and cracked from panting.

I was a fit man, but I didn’t make a habit of running for hours on end.

There was a reason I had messengers and runners.

My body was honed as a weapon. I could battle for hours.

But running? Propelling my bulk across the earth in the heat of the day? That took its toll.

I muttered to myself, trying to turn my mind from the pain in my chest to what words I could use to warn the Shadekin when I drew near that might stop them loosing arrows the moment they saw me, when something brushed the back of my neck.

I squealed like a pig, dropped and rolled, coming back up to my feet, panting, heart racing so fast my skin throbbed.

We’d entered the Shadows of Shade behind Hever and felt the eyes on our backs within minutes. But it was only as we grew deeper that the mists seemed to grow hands and teeth and—

Those days in the Shadows, even with the protection of whatever it was that Hever had done to save our lives, had been harrowing. I never wanted to repeat them.

Keep your mind focused on good intentions for the Fetch, he’d said in that dry-rot of a voice. But was that really what he’d done? He’d disappeared since Melek took the crown and—

I tried to run again—but a few steps later, a tree root seemed to rise out of the earth to catch my ankle and send me tumbling to the dirt again.

I lay for a moment, my temple to the cool earth, catching my breath—but then squawked when a pressure appeared on the back of my neck, like a boot, like a man standing, threatening to snap my spine if he didn’t suffocate me first.

With a raw howl I twisted and rolled until I was free and could leap back to my feet—but then nearby branches whipped as if they’d been caught and swung back, straight for my eyes.

This fucking forest was haunted.

I couldn’t remember which direction I’d come from. More branches whipped out to catch my face, so I raised my arms for protection, only to be caught on a tree root again. And when I staggered back to my feet… I was blind.

The fog had thickened to soup, twirling, boiling soup so thick I couldn’t see my hand when I extended my arm.

Then claws raked down my back, talons piercing through the linen of my shirt and into my skin and I screamed and drew my spear, whipping in a circle and roaring a battle call…

only to have the mist flutter and seep in my wake, curling through the air where I swung the weapon, then lazily returning to the tendrils of vapor and…

Dear God, I needed to get out of here.

But my mate was here. And she thought I’d hurt her.

Panting, turning a slow circle with the weapon in my hand poised for thrust, I cast my mind back, desperately trying to remember what Hever had done to get us through.

He’d spoken to the mists as if they were sentient.

I rubbed a hand over my sweaty dirty face and shook my head. But what could it hurt?

“I’m here for my mate, Diadre. She’s Shadekin—”

The fog boiled, and one of those tendrils snaked out towards my chest like a rope. I gasped and stabbed at it with the spear, but the fog merely parted for it, then returned, coiling around me.

I was going to fucking die out here.

“Please! She’s my mate!”

Those claws that had dragged down my back, raked into my hair and down my scalp, tearing the skin so the warm seep of blood trickled through my hair and down my neck as I struggled and turned, trying desperately to get free. But there was no fucking enemy to stab. No resistance.

Something caught my ankle and I screamed as I went down—it seemed the earth rushed up to meet me, but as I rolled back to my feet, something punched into my ribs, then my temple. I groaned, and threw blows, but only succeeded in almost tearing my shoulder when the punch landed on nothing but air.

Then another blow to my shoulder, and one to my back. Another to my head that made a sound in my skull like an inflated bladder bounced against a wall.

I curled into a ball in the dirt, arms over my head, grunting at the blows to my ribs, my hips, my back—screaming. “She’s my mate! I’d never hurt her—she’s my mate!”

But it was wasted breath.

It came home to me then that I would die—not an honorable passing in battle, or a dignified end in my old age bed. I would die with my nose pressed to the dirt like a dog and my arms curled over my head because I couldn’t get through to her—

Everything stopped.

I lay there on the ground in the fetal position, knees curled up to my chest, arms over my head, my breath wheezing as I heaved for more air.

Nothing.

The forest around me was silent.

A few moments later I blinked and slowly raised my head to look around. The fog remained, but now I could see through to the trees and the path and…

I pushed quickly to my feet, hissing against the pain in my ribs.

My hackles were up, goosebumps racing down my spine.

I wasn’t sure which direction to travel on the trail.

One would take me back to the Neph, the other closer to Diadre—but would I recognize that spot where she’d turned off? Especially in the dark?

A twig snapped somewhere behind me and I whirled, praying that it was a creature of the forest and not the damned mists coming back to kill me.

The fog swirled and I growled. “She’s my mate,” I croaked, slowly backing away. “She’s my mate. I will die for her—but not for you.”

Then suddenly, a form appeared, manifesting from the mists, a shadow that coalesced before me…

Diadre.

Mate.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her eyes puffy from crying. Her skin blotchy—and that broken, hurting gap in my chest throbbed.

“Dee…” I breathed.

“Why?” she whispered, her voice high and thin. “Why did you do it? Why did you come in here?”

The words spilled from me because I’d been trying to speak them to her since the moment our eyes locked in that tent.

“Because you’re my mate. I needed you to see, to make you understand…

Dee, I’d rather die close to you than live without you.

I know I fucked this up—I know I should have told you. But I didn’t think you felt it and—”

She slumped, dropping her face into her hands and sobbing.

I took a step towards her, desperate to offer comfort, but the moment I moved, her head snapped up and she backed away.

I stopped dead, grief twisting in my chest.

My mate is afraid of me.

“Dee—"

“I don’t know whether to believe you or not.”

“I mean it. Every word.”

“So you came into the mists knowing they’d attack you… because I’m your mate?”

I nodded sadly, praying she’d see that I held nothing back.

She took a step closer, her brow furrowed, then another. At least her tears had stopped. “You came in here because of me?” I nodded again. “Seriously, Jann?”

“Seriously. I can’t… You leave a hole in my heart, Dee. I know you don’t feel it—or didn’t. I know it doesn’t affect you, but… I have to be close to you. I… I need you.”

She had reached my toes. Her slap came from nowhere and the crack rang through the trees. “You idiot!” she hissed. “It’s a conversation, Jann. Fucking words! You could have waited until I came back!”

“But you were running—convinced I’d intended to hurt you—and you said you wanted nothing to do with me—”

“So you ran into the Shadows where you’d definitely get hurt?”

“I was trying to find you,” I growled.

“Next time, spare me the grand gestures and show some sense. You could have waited for me to come back. Do you actually want to die and get me killed too? Fuck! What is it with men and this foolish nobility?”

“But… you said—”

“I’m a woman and an adult, not a fucking imbecile. I would have come back once I had a chance to think.” She turned her eyes to the skies. “Dear God, give me patience for alpha male bullshit. My mate is a fool!”

I sucked in a breath, gaping at her as she froze, her eyes widening.

Mate.

She had called me her mate.