half-hearted attempt, fueled by desperation and malice, and with the help of the two Shadow Wolves, Haven and the others repelled the attack.
When she’d turned back to Stolas, heart in her throat at what she imagined seeing, he was only feet away. An overwhelming panic threatened to swallow her at the sight of his wounds.
So many jagged tears in his flesh. So much blood. Streaks of dark crimson clung to strands of his pale hair, and his poor wings . . .
At least one had been severely injured, blood caked and drying along the apex, and he held it gingerly the way a cat would an injured paw.
But it was the pain in his eyes, pain he tried and failed to hide, that settled like rocks in her gut.
She’d witnessed that agony once before, in their shared dreamscape after the Shade Queen tortured him mercilessly.
Concern propelled Haven into his arms. She forgot she was still angry with him. Forgot the deep wounds he’d inflicted when he threatened to take away her freewill in the Hall of Light.
Her need for him to be safe and out of pain eclipsed everything else. He trembled as her fingers rushed over his body. Each time she came across another injury her insides contracted as if she were the one hurt.
“Beastie . . .” His raw voice shivered in restrained agony. “I am fine.”
A huff of air rushed from her lips as she lifted a bloodied strip of his shirt to expose a gaping wound. “You call this fine?”
“A mere . . . flesh wound.”
“Liar.” Gathering a clean strip of his tunic, she pressed the cloth into the most troubling injury, a gash that trenched across his chest and down his stomach. Blood soaked the fabric immediately.
He flinched, his eyes never leaving hers. “I am surprisingly . . . resilient.”
“No, you are bleeding out like an idiot.” She focused on conjuring gauze and bandages to hide the way her eyes rolled. “Why didn’t you feed before we came?”
“I am going to ignore the disdain in your tone and take your concern as a sign of your undying devotion to me.”
Annoyed, she ripped what was left of his shirt from his torso and began applying the clean bandages.
Amusement sparked inside his eyes. “If you wanted to undress me, I would suggest waiting until we don’t have an audience.”
His gaze tightened as it shifted behind her.
The others were watching. The queen and the remaining guards and Valkyries had changed back into their Solis forms the moment Haven beheaded the last Golemite, as if staying shifted took more energy. Now they had regrouped into a loose circle over the oval of floor left standing, and were tending to the wounded.
The white, turquoise, and canary yellow tiles—once a mosaic of some sort depicting large cats gathered around a throne—were mired in blood and death.
Two Valkyries hovered over the queen, ignoring their own injuries as they used their magick to mend her various wounds. Ember and Surai were helping staunch the bleeding from a Valkyrie who had lost an arm.
They had all stopped what they were doing to stare at Stolas and Haven, their battle-weary gazes trekking to the two wolves standing guard at opposite sides of the ballroom.
His hand was shockingly cold as she guided it to the gauze at the center of his chest. “Hold this while I secure the bandage.”
“Haven.”
“I don’t care what they see.”
“Haven—”
“You are important to me, Stolas, and I will not hide that from them or anyone.”
The hard lines of his features softened. “Your brave devotion is appreciated, but we need to shift our focus to escaping. Archeron knows my magick is gone. Our portal back to Shadoria will have been destroyed. His forces will be waiting the moment we leave the queen’s presence.”
“What about her protection?” Haven asked, already knowing his reply.
“It ended the moment the tournament did,” a steady female voice answered behind Haven.
Haven turned to appraise the Morgani Queen. Even after such a devastating attack, she possessed an unflappable regality Haven had only seen once before, in Rook. “So you would let him take me, knowing what he would do?”
She clutched her side as she laughed. Gone was the finery from before: the panther headdress, the jewels and gorgeous gown. In its place was a naked, bleeding queen who Haven knew would happily go down fighting for her kingdom and people.
Surai had once said most Morgani soldiers shifted without the magick to retain their clothes afterward. It was considered purer.