Page 132 of Creatures that Breathe

“I haven’t,” Atlas returns, cool as ice.

Kleio switches tactics, locates a new target in Leni. “I get the jitters, princess, but it’s time to go. The king chose you.”

Leni folds into my side, teeth clenched as she wipes ash off her forehead, licks shiny pink blood off the corner of her mouth. Splotchy purple bruises are already forming on her skin. Injured, gravely, and yet her eyes are unbreakable ice. “No,” she shouts, singular, cold. Final.

Kleio tuts disapprovingly. “Alright, Atlas. Just toss her over and we’ll leave. That’s the mission objective. We get her. She goes with Draven, and we’re gone. You think I want to murder all of you in the woods? This isn’t exactly Malibu Barbie Dreamhouse.”

“Seems you don’t have a choice,” Atlas returns.

“Don’t I?” Kleio snaps gloved fingers and, from behind the line of green warriors, Meda appears, collapsed on the ground.

My whole body goes still. My heartbeat triples.

An enraged sound rises in Luke’s chest.

“Sashira?” Kleio coos.. “If you wouldn’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t,” Sashira returns, lifting a hand.

Meda shrieks, contorting in pain, clutching her head as the witch of the Queensguard flays her mind.

The thief is lighter than the rest of us, she must have been thrown farther, landed amongst the enemy. I should’ve grabbed her.

“Stop!” Luke screams.

Leni lurches for her. I pin her to my chest.

“Andromeda knows the rules,” Atlas lies to the Queensguard, a bluff. “Fallen soldiers get left.” He turns to me, saying urgently, “Take Leni and run. We’ll hold them off.”

“I can hear you,” Kleio bites, folding her arms, popping her hip. “You’re not even whispering. I’ll kill her, Atlas. Do you want more tattoos around your neck? What’s the limit before a stray thought guts you? Asking for a friend.”

Between pants, roiling in the scorched grass, Meda gasps, “Fuck. You.”

One of the green hoods, the tallest and widest, the only male, steps slightly forward, splitting their neat row, and Kleio waves him back. “Stop.” She clicks her tongue at Sashira to cease the attack on Meda. Rolls her eyes. “That’s a taste of our power, Chire. We’re not even warmed up yet.”

Meda lets out a hoarse sigh and collapses to the ground.

Atlas calls Kleio a coward, offers to fight one on one, stalling, as Leni pulls me to the back of our huddle, reading my thoughts.

There’s only one way out now. We run.

“Are you ready?” I ask, knowing the moment we bolt, the battle will begin. And it will be bloody. I draw what little remains of my gift, preparing to ensconce her in it and turn her invisible.

Her palms open and close, but she nods. “Yeah,” she looks up at me, shaking. “Yeah, I’m ready.” Tears well up in her eyes, blood stains her cheek, along with dirt and grass and soot.

I stroke her bangs back and haul her into me to whisper, “Think of it as a footrace. Winner gets whatever they want.”

Atlas and Kleio continue to spar across the lawn, voices rising, insults and boasts becoming increasingly intricate and deranged.

My pulse is in my throat. “Ready? On the count—”

Leni crushes her lips to mine. Hard. Frantic.

“I love you,” she whispers, taking my mouth again, kissing me like she’ll never have enough. Teeth and tongue. Consuming. She never stops feeding me that kiss. It’s torture. Wonderfully debauched and desperate, and it affects me all the way to my soul. I clutch at her, ready to run forever.

She breaks away with a cry, recoiling, fisting my tattered shirt.

Blood streams down her arm in rivulets, drips off her fingers. She’s been hit. Clipped or cut in the crossfire. I didn’t even notice, and now that the adrenaline’s wearing off, she finally feels it.

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