Page 22 of Of Wind and Terror

Though there is an abnormal amount of blood…

“Take the spare cabin.” Fae With a Y sniffs and points towards a small building a short distance away. Cabin is definitely too generous of a term. It’s nothing but twigs, leaves, and a few loose stones. “It was intended to be yours anyway for the time being.”

“Thank you,” Kassandra signs, tugging at my hand.

I motion for her to go ahead, and when she begins to walk away, I quickly grab the pacon by the scruff of his neck.

He hisses and claws at me, but I simply smirk at the dumb creature and move towards a well I noted earlier. Glancing inside, I decide that it’s not too deep of a drop. The pacon will survive the fall.

But would it really be a shame if he doesn’t?

Runt begins to struggle in earnest now—no doubt knowing what I intend—but I simply smile smugly and toss the annoying pest into the well. He lands with an ”oomph” at the bottom, kicking up water.

Fae With a Y stares at me, appalled.

I bare my teeth at her but then decide she’s not worth my time.

I have a mate to attend to.

And once I’m through with her, she’ll never want to leave my side again.

8

KASSANDRA

Inever thought in one million years that I’d feel peace being engulfed in Blaze’s arms.

Yet, as the Fall Prince holds me close to his chest, that’s the emotion that ricochets through me.

Peace.

Comfort.

Security.

A diminutive part of me knows I should hate him or at the very least fear him. I’ve seen firsthand how violent he truly is. Unconscious bodies litter the ground at our feet, after all.

Yet the terror I expect to feel never arises. It remains buried beneath a strange sense of serenity.

I inhale Blaze’s woodsy scent as he continues to hold me to him.

The two of us stand inside the guest cottage, though I’m not sure that word fits the desolate building. It’s nothing but wooden walls with circular holes for windows and a roof constructed out of twigs and leaves. A single cot rests against the far wall, and opposite it sits a chamber pot and wash basin.

This hut may even be smaller than Aleksander’s prison, which is saying something. I’m certain it once served as a supply shed or something similar.

Still, even as small as it is, it feels impossibly smaller with Blaze here. His presence dominates the space. With every inhale, I scent something akin to ash intermixed with heady pine. His body emits an almost palpable heat that begs me to lean in even closer to him.

What is happening to me?

Blaze places his hands on my shoulders and gently pushes me away. His hazel eyes—the exact shade of a dying forest, where the leaves have just begun to turn brown and brittle—ensnare my own.

I take a moment to study him, to survey him from head to toe. Panic claws at my defenses when I see fresh blood on his shirt. I gesture towards it desperately, but he simply grabs my wrist gently and pulls my palm up to his lips. He brushes feather-like kisses over my glove.

“I’m okay, little beast. It’s just a graze, and I heal quickly. You need to tell me everything.” His voice is a husky rasp that rushes through my veins like molten lava. “I’ve been going out of my mind with worry.” He swallows. “One tick you were there, and the next…”

You were gone.

Those unspoken words settle between us like a plume of noxious gas.

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