Igniting Darkness (Courting Darkness Duology #2) - Robin LaFevers Page 0,143

but there are too many.

A mounted knight sees me, changes direction, and heads for me, his sword raised high. Just as he is upon me, I drop to the ground and roll away. He shouts in frustration, then wheels around to try again, but is stopped by one of the Arduinnites’ arrows going straight through his eye.

There is no time to be grateful. A foot soldier charges me, and suddenly I am back in the oubliette with Maraud. Everything he taught me falling into place. I take my stance and block his blow, letting the force of it run up my arm. While he is still processing his surprise, I swing my blade down, then up again, driving it into the small sliver of exposed neck right above his breastplate.

Souls begin bursting from the fallen bodies as their wounds claim their mortal lives. The battering of the new souls along with the beating of the hearts in danger make it nearly impossible to do anything but keep my weapon in front of my face. I consider blocking my mind against the souls, but fear I will miss the instant’s warning of a familiar heartbeat.

The souls are particularly thick around Beast, whose ax swings through men as if he were back at the abbey chopping wood for the fire.

Just as I manage to fend off a second attacker, another one surges toward me. He is taller than the last, his shoulders broader. I fear his greater size will prove too big an advantage. As I get my blade up to meet his, a new heartbeat slams against my ribs, this one as familiar to me as breathing.

“Sybella!” I scream.

As quick as a man cut from a gibbet, she drops to the ground, bright silver arcing through the air where her head has just been. It is then I remember my own opponent. But too late. There is a sharp explosion of pain in my head, and everything goes black.

 Chapter 80

When I open my eyes, my first thought is that I have been sent to hell. It is dark, and there are no stars, the blackness overhead relieved only by the flickering of orange flames.

“There she is,” a melodious voice says. That is not the voice of hell.

“Sybella?”

“Don’t get up! Stay where you are. You took a blow to the head.”

“Because she was busy saving you.” Beast’s voice is as solemn as I’ve ever heard it, as if he still cannot believe how close Sybella came. “Saving all of us,” he amends. His gravelly voice echoes faintly. We are in a cave.

“Did we lose anyone?” I ask.

“No,” Sybella assures me. “How in the name of the Nine did you do that?” The awe in her voice makes me acutely uncomfortable.

“By accident, mostly. I felt the heartbeats in my chest, and this time I was able to recognize them.”

“Do not ever again tell me how useless your gift is,” she says with a smile. “I will know it for a lie. There are a couple of cuts and scrapes. But no casualties.”

“Because of you.” I turn at the sound of Aeva’s voice, wincing at the pain the movement causes. She crosses her hands upon her heart and bows at the waist. “Thank you.”

Not knowing what to do with all this gratitude and thanks, I reach up to tenderly feel at my head. “I hope one of you managed to kill the rutting bastard who hit me.”

A moment of complete silence follows. “What?” I ask, uneasy.

Sybella glances behind me. I am desperate to look but afraid if I turn my head the pain will resume its hammering. In that same moment, I become aware that my head is being cradled—on something softer than a dirt-packed floor. And warm. A hand reaches out to brush the hair from my brow, and my body starts to tremble, knowing that touch before my mind has pieced it together.

“I did not mean to hit you so very hard,” Maraud says softly.

As my mind scrambles to reshape the world—a world that once again includes Maraud—Beast leans closer to Sybella. “See?” he mutters. “I am not the only one,” then grunts as her elbow connects with something tender.

Maraud ignores them. “The man you were fighting was about to skewer you, and you stepped back just as I swung.”

I try to push into a sitting position, needing to see with my own eyes that it is truly him, but his arms around me tighten. “Don’t move.”

I smile. “It is you.” He