Kildare soared upward.
The crossbow tracked his movement.
Serene fumbled at her belt for one of her throwing knives.
Too late.
Kildare was barely above the treeline when the bolt struck home. The twang of the string hit Serene’s ears at the same time as Kildare’s anguished screech. It sounded more human than dragon. He struggled, one wing went limp, and Kildare’s form careened to the side, disappearing into the jungle.
“Serene!” Fir hissed.
She dashed the remaining few feet to the edge of the jungle. Snitch and Fir were waiting there, ducked behind a clump of vine-covered bushes.
Serene shoved past them. “I’m going after him.”
“What?” Fir spluttered. He started to scramble to his feet. “I’ll go with—”
“No.” She shook her head. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure they could hear it. “No. You two should get out of here. Run.”
“We’ll head back to the campsite furthest away and hide in the trees,” Fir whispered. He stood, tugging on Snitch’s arm. “If you don’t make it back in an hour, we’ll start moving.”
She nodded and spun, not even waiting to hear Snitch’s spluttering protests. Vines and branches whipped across her face, and she ducked her head, picking her way as quietly and quickly as she could through the jungle to where Kildare had fallen. As the shouts and yells in the camp fell silent, she began hearing a new sound. Rustling. Grunts. Like two people were scuffling in the undergrowth.
Serene swallowed the bile in her throat as she came upon a little cleared space. She could see broken branches and vines in the trees, showing the path Kildare had fallen. He lay on the ground, and the Alfaren scout knelt on top of him, one knee digging into Kildare’s left shoulder beside a thick, shot crossbow bolt. The Alfaren pressed a knife up against the underside of Kildare’s jaw. With his free hand, the scout grabbed the crossbow bolt and twisted it.
Kildare screamed, his fingers raking furrows into the ground. He clawed at the guard with his right hand, but stopped as the Alfaren dug the knife harder against his jaw.
Serene clenched her hands so tightly that her knuckles popped.
“Tell me who hired you,” the scout hissed.
Kildare snarled, scales breaking along his stripes.
“We’ll find it out one way or another, drake. Might as well tell me now so you can be put out of your misery sooner.”
Serene crouched, braced her hands against the ground. Her wings sprouted from her back and she felt her fingernails lengthen into claws dug deep into the soft, damp earth.
Kildare screamed again.
She launched forward, snarling.
The scout looked up, his eyes widening. Serene bowled into him, throwing him off Kildare. She shifted and hit the ground in a tumble, whirled around in time to dodge a strike from a gleaming knife. The scout slashed at her again, a quick spare motion. She stepped back, drawing her own knife and turning the backs of her arms towards her attacker. He lunged forward again, this time aiming for a stab to her gut. Serene knocked his hand away and slashed at him. They danced back and forth until her foot tripped on a root. Serene stumbled, jerked her body hard away, felt the scout’s knife draw a line down her shoulder and back. She hissed in pain and twisted, sweeping the scout’s feet from under him.
Before she could free her foot from the vine, he’d rolled and thrown himself at her. Serene shoved at him, planting her knee in his gut and rolling him sideways off of her. She shoved her knife after his side, felt it sink into him. He yelled and rolled onto his back, struggling to get away from her. Serene threw her free leg over the man’s belly and jammed the knife hard into his chest.
The Alfaren gasped and kicked and went limp.
Serene rolled off him and wrenched her leg free. She didn’t look at his face. She didn’t want to. She found a clean section of his tunic and wiped off her knife, shoved it into the sheath, limped over to Kildare. He was doubled over, both hands clutching the arrow in his shoulder.
“You should’ve run,” he whispered.
“Shut up,” she said, kneeling at his side. She pressed one hand to his chest, stared down into his face. He was pale and beads of sweat tracked across his cheeks, his eyes glazed in pain, but he was smiling. She leaned down and kissed him. At the same time, she reached over and snapped the crossbow bolt, yanking the two pieces out of either side of his shoulder.
Kildare jerked in surprise and yelped. “That was a mean trick,” he growled, pressing against his wounded shoulder.
“I know. Sorry, love.”
Serene helped him up to his feet. They took a wide berth around the campsite, where the Alfarens were still working to beat out the flames on the third tent.
Kildare chuckled gingerly. “Felt good to do that. It’s been a while since I got to breathe fire all over everything that made me mad.”
Serene grinned. “A bit of revenge for Mock.”
“Exactly.”
“How long do you give it until they miss that scout?”
Kildare shrugged. “They’re not going to figure anything out just by finding him.”
They were quiet until they broke out of the jungle and onto the road. Serene stuck to the shadows at the edge of the road, glancing up and down the graveled line through the dark shapes of the surrounding trees. Even her wyvern eyes couldn’t penetrate the darkness in the jungle around them, but she couldn’t find any sign of Snitch and Fir.
“Serene?” Kil’s voice was strained.
She glanced up, but far from looking sick or weak, Kildare had straightened. He was staring at a point in the road about ten feet from them. Serene glanced over and found what she’d missed at first.
Kildare dropped his arm from her shoulder and limped over to some scuff marks. He crouched and touched his fingers to dark splotches that Serene hoped were just dirt. But it smeared on Kildare’s fingers, far too easily.
Her stomach dropped. Blood.
“Do you think…” she started.
“Basalt must have had someone follow us, and they grabbed Snitch and Fir while we were fighting the scout.” Kil’s voice was hard. He stood, glanced over at her. Even in the darkness, she could see the gleam of suspicion in his eyes.
Serene felt sick. How had she missed one of Basalt’s people? Her mind flicked back to the morning. How stupid had she been to think that Basalt had only sent Eras to warn her? Of course, the assassin had followed them. She would’ve seen Kildare fall. She would’ve taken the chance to grab Snitch and Fir as soon as she saw them—whether or not they had the stone, she knew enough about Kildare to know he’d never abandon them.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Basalt must have…” Her voice trailed off. There was nothing she could say to ease his suspicion. Not this time. A deep ache bloomed in her heart, and she was surprised at how much it hurt.
He turned and started limping up the road. Serene dashed in front of him and held up her hands, slowing him to a stop. Kildare glared down at her, chest heaving, teeth gritted and bared in pain. A pang of fear shot through her. Serene swallowed it down. It’s Kil. My Kildare. He’d never hurt me.
“At least tell me you have the felsic stone,” he growled.
“Fir had it,” she whispered. “It had the same effect on me that it had on you—I could barely hold the thing. It hurt.”
Kildare’s hands clenched, then he closed his eyes and bowed his head. Serene could see him trembling. “I can’t—I can’t abandon them,” he said. “I—I have to do something, Serene. I can’t just let them die. Not like my parents.”
Her breath caught in her throat. His parents. Kildare had once mentioned that his parents had been stabbed to death. Had... he witnessed it? One look up at his face, at the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, and Serene had her answer. That’s why he was so adamant about keeping his family together. Why he risked life and limb over and over to keep them safe.
She stepped forward. “I had another fake stone made.”
“What?” His voice was hoarse.
Serene reached into the pouch at her side and pulled out the second fake stone. “I know a guy who replicates things by using ley, and he owed me. Once I’d finished carving the fake stone, I took it to him, and he replicated it for me.”
Kildare sighed heavily. “Why…why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you were already upset at me, and I didn’t want you to think I’d planned for something like this.” Serene lowered her voice. “Because I didn’t want those thoughts in your head. But I figured it couldn’t hurt to have two fake stones. I…” Her voice trailed off. Was she really going to suggest this? To anyone else, it would be ludicrous.
“What were you going to say?” Kildare asked.
Serene stepped forward and clasped her hands on the back of his neck, drawing his forehead until their foreheads touched. She closed her eyes. “And I’ll do what Eras told me to do—I’ll bring you back to them. It’s what Eras expects. She thinks she has me cowed, that I’ll do whatever she wants.”
His muscles tightened.
“But it can’t work unless you trust me. This is where you decide,” she said. “No going back from here. Do you trust me, Kildare Wingard?”
She waited, her heart thundering in her chest, acid burning her throat. Kildare breathed in deeply, once, twice. He raised his hands, his palms gently cupping her face, and rubbed his thumbs along her cheekbones. Serene took in a deep breath, trying to keep it from sounding like a sob.
“We swore in our bonding vows to trust each other and to love each other. Those are a choice. Each and every day, I wake up, and I make that choice. To trust and to love my wife. I trust you because I chose to. Maybe people think that makes me stupid. I don’t care. I trust you, Serene, because you have proven yourself to me. Because I believe you, even if no one else does. I always have.” His voice broke. “And I’m sorry that I’ve never told you that.”
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She leaned against him, savoring his warmth, the gentle feel of his hands against her face. After a moment, she opened her eyes. Kildare looked down at her, his eyes glimmering in the moonlight. He trailed his fingers through her hair, brushing it away from her face, then winced at the movement.
Serene straightened. “Let me shift. I’ll carry you back.”
“It wouldn’t be any faster than walking, and we need to get back as quickly as possible. Don’t tire yourself out by taking care of me, Serene. Save your strength. We’ll need it to get Fir and Snitch free. I can fly on my own.”
Serene started to argue, but the way Kildare’s mouth pressed into a line, she knew it would just waste time. She squeezed his hands, then stepped back.
Kildare took a deep breath and shifted. As he stretched his wings, he winced. Serene could see blood trickling down the side of his wing. She unwound her scarf from her neck and wrapped the wound, binding it into place.
“We’ll get them back,” she said. “I promise, we will.”
Kildare nudged her under the chin with his head, the scales rough and warm against her skin. I believe you, his touch seemed to say.
Serene stepped back from him and shifted into her own wyvern form, teeth clenching. At least one of them believed it.
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