slick under my palm. I was thrown back through the years, to when I was tiny and frightened, my grip on my mother desperate and slipping—
I heard Vikter’s voice in my mind. A warning he’d given me in training at the very beginning. Never cave to panic. If you do, you die. He’d been right. Fear could heighten the senses, but panic slowed everything down.
I wasn’t a child.
I wasn’t tiny and helpless anymore.
I knew how to fight back, knew how to protect myself.
With a shout, I pulled myself free of the memory and pushed to my feet just as a hairless Craven reached me. I jammed the sword forward, slicing into its heart. It didn’t even so much as whimper as its soulless eyes met mine. All it did was shudder and then fall backward. I turned to find Airrick, realizing that the mist had retreated, slipping down our legs and thinning. That was a good sign as I stalked toward a now visible, wounded Craven crawling across the ground toward one of the horses. I planted my boot on its back, shoving it to the ground as it howled. I jabbed down with the sword, silencing it. The mist was all but gone now.
Breathing heavily as Hawke thrust his sword through the chest of the last remaining Craven, I turned to survey the damage. Only five guards were standing, not including Hawke. I saw Kieran and Luddie above a Huntsman who was very clearly dead. I saw the guard whose sword I held, and I knew that Noah had been gone the moment the Craven had sunk its teeth into his neck. I kept turning until my gaze found Phillips. He knelt beside…
Airrick.
No.
He was on his back, both his and Phillips’ hands pressed against his stomach. His pale skin made his brown hair seem so much darker, and there was…there was so much blood. Lowering the sword, I walked over to where Airrick lay, stepping around the fallen Craven.
“Is…she…is she okay?” Blood trickled out of his mouth as he stared up at Phillips. “The…”
Phillips glanced up at me, his brown skin taking on a shade of gray. His eyes were somber as he nodded. “She’s more than okay.”
“Good.” He let out a wheezing breath. “That’s…good.”
Heart sinking, I lowered to my knees and placed the sword beside me. “You saved me.”
His eyes flicked to me, and he coughed out a bloody, weak laugh. “I don’t…think you…needed saving.”
“I did,” I told him, glancing at his stomach. Craven claws had caught him, digging in deep—too deep. His insides were no longer in. I hid my shudder as Hawke drew closer. “And you were there for me. You did save me, Airrick.”
Hawke knelt beside Phillips, his gaze meeting mine. He shook his head, not that I needed to be told. This wasn’t a survivable wound, and it had to be so painful. I didn’t need my gift to tell me that, but I opened my senses, shuddering at the raw agony pulsing through the connection.
Keeping my attention focused on Airrick, I picked up his hand and folded both of mine around it. I couldn’t save him, but I could do what I hadn’t been able to do with Vikter. I could help Airrick, and make this easier. It was forbidden and not exactly wise to do it when there were witnesses, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t sit here and do nothing when I knew I could help.
So, I thought of the beaches and how Hawke made me laugh, how he made me feel like I was living, and I pushed that warmth and happiness through the bond and into Airrick.
I knew the moment it hit the guard. The lines of his face relaxed, and his body stopped trembling.
He looked at me, his eyes wide. He looked so terribly young. “I don’t…hurt anymore.”
“You don’t?” I forced a smile as I kept the connection open, washing him in waves of light and warmth. I didn’t want even the slightest bit of pain to sneak through.
“No.” A look of awe settled in his expression. “I know I’m not, but I feel…I feel good.”
“I’m relieved to hear that.”
He stared at me, and I knew Phillips and Hawke were watching. I knew without even looking at them that they realized his sudden relief had nothing to do with the stages of death. No one with that kind of wound slipped away peacefully.
“I know you,” Airrick said, his chest rising heavily and then slowly settling. “Didn’t think…I should