be where the fae army was camped.
“You need to join your soldiers,” Leena said. “You need that army at your back.”
The words hit Morran like cold, clear water. He’d been thinking the same thing, but hearing it from her lips made his position all too real. He had been one of the foremost commanders of the fae, but that had been before Juradoc had torn apart his soul. He could no longer ride the phoenix into the skies and rain down fire upon the enemy. “Circumstances have changed.”
Leena stood very still, her amber eyes searching his face. “Do you remember your old battles?”
“Of course,” he said, his tone harsh. He hadn’t meant to sound brusque, yet she had obviously read his fear. He didn’t need to see it reflected in her lovely eyes.
“Then you’ve lost none of your experience.” She leaned into him again, as if the dragon had been a momentary interruption. “My brother says it’s brains that count in a battle.”
“Sometimes.”
Then her face fell. “Do you think we’ll find Fionn?”
Guilt flared through him. He’d promised to help her brother, yet they’d spent the night in pleasure, safe within the pyramid. While darkness and danger had made that the sensible course of action, now his army beckoned. He had a chance to beat Juradoc once and for all. Would he risk a delay to go looking for one foot soldier who was corrupted beyond hope?
Surprisingly, he would. He’d barely scraped his soul back together. He couldn’t afford to squander it by breaking his word. “We’ll search for Fionn and Anna right away.”
Leena looked up, dread in her eyes. “If one of the other fae found my brother, he’s probably dead.”
He hugged her close for a long moment. “The dragons will help us look. They can cover ground far faster from the air.”
She nodded, but without much optimism. They gathered their weapons and made ready to leave, neither saying much. The brief time they’d spent in safety had been precious, like a spell Morran was reluctant to break.
Their final stop before leaving was at the pool surrounding the Flame. They stood side by side, fingers brushing, and watched the reflection of the fire on the water. Morran drank in the peace of the Temple, storing it up against the battle to come.
“What happens next will be chaotic,” he said. “In case there is no better opportunity to say it, thank you for saving me.”
Leena turned to look at him, her red hair wild around the oval of her face. “Just keep saving yourself. That’s the best thanks.” It was a dare and a plea.
“I will be your champion, no matter what else transpires,” Morran replied. “Don’t ever think you’re alone.”
They kissed one last time, the embrace long and hard, then left the temple’s shelter. Outside, the heat was a physical slap. They set off at a determined pace, hoping to reach the fae army before the temperature mounted any higher.
As they went, Morran assembled his questions for the generals of his army. Who was in charge of reconnaissance? What was the enemy position? Who was in charge of Tymeera’s forces? He had some catching up to do.
They crossed the stone courtyard that stretched between the four corners of the Temple grounds. The base of the next pyramid was just yards away when Leena shouted his name.
“What is it?” he asked, reaching for his sword.
“There.”
He followed her pointing hand to see a body slumped on the ground. The pyramid’s deep shadow made the dark-clothed figure hard to see, but it wore no robes. It wasn’t a Shade.
Heart leaping with alarm, he broke into a run. Leena sprinted past him, skidding to a halt beside the still form. He caught up and dropped to one knee, rolling the body over so he could see the face.
It was Anna.
21
Horror surged through Leena, negating the heat of the sun. She knelt beside Morran, automatically making a quick assessment of Anna’s condition. She ran her hands over the woman’s limbs, finding a broken arm. There was also a lump on the back of her skull. There was no question a brutal blow had knocked her out.
Cold horror clutched at Leena’s gut, leaving her nauseous. The brother she knew—the real Fionn—would have never done this. But that child, that youth, was a memory. The thing that had taken its place had done it—but at least he hadn’t killed her. Why?
She raised her eyes to Morran’s face. The lines of his mouth were grim, his brow furrowed