She hesitantly reached out and placed her hand over his. “And what started out as a noble cause in theory—”
“Turned him into a monster,” Lorcan finished bitterly.
A monster that he had helped her destroy, even though it was his own father. A father who had once had enough heart to save him. After a heavy pause, she whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
He shook himself, pulling his hand away from hers. “We’ve lingered too long. Can you run now?”
Evelayn nodded, trying to ignore the sting of his rejecting her attempt to comfort him. “Yes. Thanks to you.”
“Good.” Lorcan swiftly stood up. “Help me wake the others. We need to go right now.”
He turned away, but not before she saw a mask fall across his face that chilled Evelayn to her core.
THEY RAN SILENTLY THROUGH THE FOREST, NO ONE daring to speak after Lorcan’s warning about drawing attention to their presence. The farther in they went, the thicker the mist became, till it was almost corporeal, a choking, climbing entity stretching up their bodies, curling around their torsos and making it hard to breathe.
Lorcan guided them, as he was the only one who had traveled through the Undead Forest before. Evelayn stayed by his side, and Ceren let Lothar, Letha, and Tanvir take up the rear. She felt safer in the middle of the group. Perhaps it was selfish, but she couldn’t help the thought that if something attacked them, she wouldn’t be the first one it would reach. It also gave her the opportunity to observe Lorcan and Evelayn. Occasionally he’d reach out and grip her hand, rather than letting her run on her own. Ceren wasn’t sure how she felt about what seemed to be happening between the two of them—even though she wasn’t sure they were aware of it yet, not completely. The longer they ran, the more often Evelayn had to hold Lorcan’s hand, as if he were strengthening her, as he had somehow helped her heal her neck and her ankle. She’d never seen or heard of anything like that.
She’d also never run so much in her life, but she didn’t have a choice except to continue, even though the excruciating pain and exhaustion she’d experienced trying to escape Máthair Damhán’s daughters was still fresh. Her legs had completely given out—one of the most humiliating and terrifying experiences in her life. She’d never been so scared as those moments when she thought she might not make it, that she might leave Saoirse and Clive orphans, that she might never kiss Quinlen again, or hold any of them in her arms. But her relief at climbing over the wall had been short-lived. For the second time, staring into the eerily lit forest, she realized she might not get out of this alive.
In the break Lorcan had allowed them, she had recovered enough physically to continue on, and, thankfully, here their pace was somewhat slower, impeded by the fog and the fear of being discovered. But as the minutes bled into hours, her muscles began to cramp and burn again. As much as she hated to admit it, she wasn’t going to be able to keep moving unless they rested again. She pushed forward as long as possible, but sharp pain began to shoot up her legs with each strike of her feet.
“I … need … a … break …” she gasped before stumbling to a staggering halt, nearly causing Letha to crash into her.
“Ceren!” Evelayn stopped, pulling Lorcan to a halt with her, and hurried to her side.
Lorcan also came over, though he kept glancing over his shoulder. “What happened?” he asked, his voice low.
“I need to rest, just for a moment.” Ceren grabbed her knees, trying to catch her breath.
“We can’t stop, not here.”
All heads turned to Lorcan.
“Why not? She’s obviously in no condition to continue,” Tanvir argued, always the first to speak out against the king, as if he had some sort of death wish.
“Which is why she never should have come,” Lorcan retorted, but when Evelayn turned beseeching eyes on him, he softened slightly. “There are some ruins ahead. Can you make it that far? I rested there once in peace, I suppose we can try to take shelter there for an hour or two. But then we must keep pressing forward.”
Ceren blanched. “I can try.”
She attempted to walk forward, but her muscles had already stiffened; her legs buckled and Letha had to grab her arm to hold her up.
“How far away are the ruins?” Evelayn took her other arm, much to Ceren’s humiliation.
“Too far if she is unable even to walk.” Letha spoke this time.
“I can do it, I just need a minute,” Ceren protested, angry tears pricking at the back of her eyes. She was furious with herself for being so weak when Evelayn needed her to be strong. All these years when she’d done what she could to search for her friend, to try and figure out how to help her, she should have been conditioning herself. Training for anything that could come, including a trek like this.
“I’ll carry her,” Lothar volunteered suddenly.
“You do not want to shift here—calling upon that much power would definitely draw attention to us.” Lorcan shook his head.
“Then I will carry her in my arms. How far is it?”
“You are not going to carry her.” Lorcan’s eyes were flinty.
“What do you suggest instead? Leaving her here by herself?”
Ceren shuddered when the fog grew thicker at his words, as if it had heard him and was anticipating claiming her.
Lorcan regarded his brother for a long moment, then gestured to a spot in the grayness that seemed slightly lighter somehow, the fog possibly not quite as thick. How he had any sense of direction in this cursed place was beyond Ceren. “It’s up there. Perhaps a quarter hour at a run. If you wish to carry her, be my guest.”
“Excellent.” Lothar didn’t hesitate to come over and, ignoring Ceren’s protests, swoop her into his arms.
“Is everyone else capable of continuing? Or perhaps we should take the time to build stretchers and pray nothing else finds us first?”
Ceren caught Evelayn shooting Lorcan a scathing look as her already warm cheeks burned hot. Without another word, the king turned, his crimson conduit stone flashing in his forehead, and took off once more.
“I’m sorry,” Evelayn said softly before turning to dash after him.
No, I’m sorry, Ceren wished to say, knowing she was causing them trouble they didn’t need. But there was no chance. Lothar tightened his grip around her and took off after his brother.
“What is your problem?” Evelayn hissed when she caught up to Lorcan. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon her as well, but she wasn’t about to seek out his help, not when she was so angry at him.
He glanced over at her and, as if sensing her weakness but also her stubbornness, slowed slightly. Which only made her even more furious. “I’m worried,” he finally admitted.
“And you show it by making my dearest friend, and the only Draíolon even remotely like family left in my life, feel as worthless as the mud beneath your boots?” Evelayn hoped he couldn’t hear how out of breath she was.
“I did not intend to make her feel that way.” He squinted as the mist undulated ahead of them, wrapping around the trees.
“Well, you did!” Evelayn insisted.
Rather than responding, Lorcan reached out and grabbed her hand.
“Stop it,” she protested, trying to pull away, but he held on tight. “I don’t want your help.”
“You don’t have room for that infernal pride, not right now. Do you wish to collapse like your friend?”
Evelayn growled angrily but stopped trying to get free of his grip. He was, unfortunately, right. She had to be sensible. Even if she felt like she’d begun to crave his touch almost as much as the strength that flowed into her from him.
“What is it you’re so frightened of?” she asked to distract herself before he sensed or scented her tumultuous feelings.
Lorcan glanced over his shoulder, which made her do the same, half expecting a horrifying creature to be right behind them. But there were merely the other Draíolon, Letha and Tanvir running alongside Lothar, who held a very unhappy-looking Cer
en in his arms.
“I have a right to know,” Evelayn insisted when he didn’t respond. Of course she knew a bit about the Undead Forest from her studies years ago. But most of it was legend, stories. No Draíolon ever crossed the wall. None who returned to speak of it, until Bain laid his trap for her mother and then again for her, taking Lorcan with him. Lorcan was the only Draíolon she knew with actual experience in the Undead Forest—the only one who could tell her what was real and what was myth.
“This forest is old.” He glanced over at her but quickly away again, keeping his eyes focused ahead of them. “Older than the Draíolon, older than magic itself, they say. There are many things that live here, seen and unseen, that do not wish to be disturbed.”
“I’ve read the tomes, I know the warnings. But what exactly lives here? Why don’t they wish to be disturbed?” Despite herself, she clutched his hand tightly, telling herself it was only to keep up her strength. “You’ve been here before … what did you see?”
Before he could answer, a horrific scream split the silence of the mist-shrouded forest. Evelayn whirled around mid-stride to see Letha on the ground, a creature as big as a male Draíolon that was half canine, half exposed skeleton, snapping its blackened fangs at her face and neck, while she frantically struggled to hold it back.
A Dheagmadra.
Evelayn hadn’t thought the so-called demon dogs existed. Tanvir grabbed his sword and swung it at the creature, but before it impacted, a blast of shadowflame exploded into the Dheagmadra’s chest, sending it flying into the mist with an unearthly howl of agony. Letha scrambled to her feet, the right sleeve of her tunic ripped, her bloodied skin visible through the tears and a similar gash on her collarbone.
“Go to the ruins! Now!” Lorcan gestured them forward. “Run!”
A bone-chilling sound that was part howl and part unearthly shriek echoed through the mist.
They took off in the direction Lorcan pointed. Renewed energy washed through Evelayn’s muscles as terror sent adrenaline coursing into her veins. Another howl sounded, this time much closer than the last, and she kicked up her heels even harder, pushing her body to the edge of her endurance and then past it. The other Draíolon sprinted all around her, their haggard breathing a desperate counterpoint to the incessant pounding of her own heart.
And then she heard other footfalls—the soft beat of padded feet on earth—and breathing that was far less winded than theirs, closing in.
They were being hunted.
“Keep going straight—we’re almost there,” Lorcan said, squeezing her hand more tightly for a moment. “They won’t follow us into the ruins, so lead everyone inside. Do you understand?”
“What are you going to do?” Evelayn asked in alarm.
But he had already let go of her and turned away. “Lothar, put her down and help me,” Lorcan ordered, falling to the back of the group.
“I’ll take her,” Tanvir offered, rushing to Lothar.
“I can run—just put me down!” Ceren protested, but Tanvir grabbed her into his arms, ignoring her protests.
“There’s no time to fight about it” was all he said.
“What do we do?” Evelayn heard Lothar ask, even as she pushed herself to go faster, hoping the others followed her lead—and praying the ruins were closer than the Dheagmadra circling in on them. She could smell the pack now, a mixture of burning embers and rotting meat.
Lorcan responded, “They can’t be killed, but they do hate fire.”
“Even shadowflame?”
Before he could answer, the first Dheagmadra emerged from the mist, loping alongside Lothar and Letha, its massive head turned toward them, red eyes glowing and gray spittle dripping from its black fangs. Letha screamed and veered to avoid it, nearly crashing into Tanvir. Lothar sent a flash of shadowflame at the creature; as if expecting it, the creature attempted to dodge the attack, but the blast still exploded on its hind flank. The Dheagmadra howled and dashed off to the right, disappearing into the mist again.
But then three more burst into view, two behind them and one closer to Lorcan.
Evelayn forced herself to look forward, to focus all her energy on escaping.
“Follow me!” she cried to the others, praying to the Gods somewhere above them in this Light-forsaken place for the energy and strength to flee.
There were more explosions behind her and more howls and snarls, but Evelayn didn’t look back. Please, please, please. It became her mantra with each desperate pound of her feet on the ground, and the thundering of her heart. Each breath was like fire ripping through her throat and lungs.
Someone behind her shouted in pain at the same moment she felt a burning flash of agony from the scar in her right hand. Evelayn risked glancing over her shoulder and saw Lorcan down on one knee, two Dheagmadra on him.
“Lorcan!” she screamed.
His silver eyes met hers for a mere millisecond before he twisted, blasting one of the creatures off him while the other tore into his shoulder.
“Evelayn, go!” someone shouted when she hesitated.
It took every bit of willpower for her to turn away from him, to leave him to the creatures and keep going, when all her instincts told her to rush to his aid, to attack the monsters hurting him. But there was nothing she could do—she had no power. None except to lead the others to safety.
A strange desperation washed over her—but somehow separate from her own and tinged with regret. She realized with a sudden stinging in her eyes that it was Lorcan’s emotions she could feel, whether through her scar or their Binding, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that her chest constricted with grief in response to the realization that he thought he wouldn’t survive this.
And then, finally, she saw it, rising out of the trees and mist. The massive, crumbling ruins. The fog seemed to flow around it, not through it, as if even the unnatural mist avoided whatever this place was.
Please. Please. Please. Her mantra was now to save Lorcan somehow, to save them all. Her entire body screamed at her to stop, but stopping meant death; she knew it as well as she knew that her legs were about to give out on her, just as Ceren’s had earlier.
Just twenty more steps, she told herself as hot tears slipped down her cheeks. Nineteen. Eighteen. Seventeen.
A roar sounded from behind her, and she realized Lothar had shifted, choosing to fight off the Dheagmadra in his bear form rather than using his fire.
Sixteen. Fifteen. Fourteen.
Another scream, this time female. Evelayn glanced back wildly over her shoulder to see Letha being dragged off by her ankle into the forest by one of the creatures. In the space of a breath, Tanvir dumped Ceren to the ground, leaving her to scramble to her feet, and he charged after his sister—but not before the bear got there, grabbing the Dheagmadra with its massive jaws. The Dheagmadra howled and released Letha just as Evelayn heard the snapping sound of Lothar crushing its spine. It went limp and, using his immense strength, Lothar threw the body backward to slam into two Dheagmadra racing toward them. Ceren reached Evelayn’s side and grabbed her arm, yanking her forward.
“Keep going!”
Thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten …
Tanvir had Letha in his arms now, her ankle a bloody mess.
But where was Lorcan?
As Ceren passed her, just a few strides from the steps of the ruins, Evelayn fought the urge to turn back again, to search for him. And then she felt it—the hot breath of a Dheagmadra on the back of her neck. She leaned forward, reaching for her friend—for safety—
Nine, eight—
The hit came like a blast of power, knocking into her and sending her tumbling to the ground, rolling across the dirt with a cry of pain as her shoulder struck a rock. Evelayn tried to launch herself back to her feet—she was so close—but the demon dog pounced on her back, slamming her face into the ground.
Everything slowed, narrowing in on that moment, on the brief interlude between life and death. A sob built in her chest, even as Evelay
n fought to escape, writhing and twisting beneath the claws that dug into her spine, knowing the fatal blow was coming.
“NO!” A thunderous roar sounded in the instant before she felt the heat of a massive blast of shadowflame explode directly above her, searing her back and legs but sending the Dheagmadra flying, freeing her.
Ignoring everything but that brief flicker of hope, Evelayn jumped to her feet to see Lorcan limping toward her, his left arm hanging unnaturally at his side, his face bloodied, his right pant leg ripped to shreds, with more blood running down his skin. Rather than taking the last few steps to the ruins, she rushed to him and took his unharmed hand in hers.
“You fool!” he choked out, even as more Dheagmadra rushed toward them. “Go!”
“Together” was all she said, with a fierce shake of her head.
Was that surge of relief her own or his?
Lorcan somehow managed to lift his injured arm enough to raise a flickering wall of shadowflame between them and the three Dheagmadra as they limped toward the ruins and the others who had managed to reach safety there.
Seven, six …
Lothar shifted back into his Draíolon form and blasted at two others that were sprinting through the trees to their left, trying to cut past Lorcan’s flames before he and Evelayn reached the ruins.
Five, four, three, two—
Lorcan stumbled and collapsed into Evelayn, his eyes rolling back into his head, sending them both crashing to the ground, inches from safety. His wall of flames flickered and went out, and the three creatures rushed forward, maws gaping, fangs bared—
And then Lothar and Tanvir were there, grabbing both of them and dragging them up onto the steps of the ruins. Evelayn was shocked when the three Dheagmadra skidded to a halt at the edge of the stone steps, snarling and snapping their teeth in fury but remaining on the ground, not stepping even one paw onto the ruins.
Lorcan had been right … about many things.
And now he was unconscious.
WHAT HAPPENED? IS HE—”