Reign of Darkness (The Prince's Assassin #2) - Ariana Nash Page 0,93

Niko groped for his sword. He stumbled to his feet, sure a blade would run him through or a pistol shot would tear out the back of his skull. Grabbing the carriage handle, he swung himself inside. Vasili still lay there. Unmoving. He couldn’t carry him out of there—he could barely carry himself.

Think… think Niko…

Gods, he just wanted to lay down beside him and let the world have them both. But Vasili wouldn’t give up. He never had. Even now, wherever he was inside his head, he fought.

He had to get him away—just away, anywhere.

Adamo…

Niko whistled for the horse and stumbled out of the carriage. The beast’s furious growls and snarls painted a picture of the bloody carnage nearby. He didn’t look, didn’t want to see or alert the creature to his presence.

He staggered to the front of the carriage and whistled again.

Come on Adamo…

Unconsciousness tried to steal him away again. He shook it free.

Adamo thundered from the night. Niko grabbed his reins, almost falling into the horse. Unsure of the carriage’s straps and bindings, he did his best to tie Adamo to the gear and hoped it would be enough. “Sorry, boy… but you’re all we’ve got.” He clambered into the seat, took up the reins, and snapped them in the air.

Adamo dug his hooves in and heaved the carriage into motion, gathering speed the more Niko snapped the reins.

Go, Adamo… and don’t stop, not for anything.

Howls and gunfire filled the night behind them, but as Adamo galloped hard through the darkness, the noises faded under the beat of his hooves.

“Faster, boy,” Niko begged. “Faster.”

The carriage shuddered and rattled, and the night pushed in, but Adamo galloped fast and true, leaving the chaos behind.

Chapter 28

Adamo went to his knees as dawn broke across an unfamiliar valley framed by the beginnings of a vast mountain range. The overgrown road had snaked into a gulley and came to an abrupt end among huge ferns. It had probably been an old mining route once but had long since been forgotten. The carriage wheels dug in and lurched to a halt.

Niko stumbled from the seat. Fire shot up his wounded thigh, seizing it rigid. Heat thumped through his leg. He’d deal with it later. Limping, he climbed into the carriage and finally cut the last rope holding Vasili’s left wrist. The prince was free, but he hadn’t woken.

“Vasili?” Niko touched his face, smearing dirt across his cool cheek. “Vasili.” His open wounds—pink slices in his pale skin—wept blood.

So much blood… So many wounds.

Niko swept his hair back from his face. Cool sweat glistened on Vasili’s forehead and neck. His lips were blue, his skin grey.

Niko said his name again, maybe hadn’t stopped saying it.

The cuts on his chest gaped and oozed, like countless hungry, pink mouths.

The hard knot in Niko’s throat threatened to break free as a sob. He swallowed it, dug his hands under the prince’s limp body, and scooped him against his chest. “Hate me for touching you later.”

He staggered from the carriage, almost dropping them both. Gods, he didn’t even know where to go with him or what to do. The landscape was strange, overgrown, and surreal, with enormous trees and rocky outcrops, valleys and peaks. The road had delivered them nowhere.

Yasir would have known where to go.

But Yasir wasn’t here.

Niko staggered into the ferns with no direction. Anywhere was better than that bloody carriage.

The gentle burble of a creek lured him forward until the ferns finally gave way to a riverbank, the river’s flow down to a trickle. Niko lay Vasili down on a soft area of thick moss at the river’s edge. Dappled sunlight danced over the fresh wreckage of his chest and arms. He looked worse in daylight, like a corpse left by elves to rot in the sun. Was he breathing? If he was, it was too light to see.

Bloody fingers trembling, Niko reached out and touched the prince’s neck for a pulse. There, a delicate flutter.

His sob finally broke free. He slumped against a nearby tree, clutching his hot, throbbing leg with one filthy hand. He’d need to bandage himself up, but what was the point if Vasili died here? It was too much. Everything was too much. He dragged his free hand down his face, trying to wipe off despair.

The prince was dying beside him, and he had no idea how to save him.

He should have done things differently.

Should have sent Vasili away from the Yazdan house instead of indulging in his foolish desires.