Page 73 of Of Wind and Terror

But despite his carefree façade, there’s a glimmer of violence in his eyes that’s impossible to miss. Something ravenous and dangerous and thirsting for blood.

When Aleksander catches me looking, he winks. “Are you going to help, Princeling, or just stand there with your sword up your ass?”

Four wraiths converge on Aleksander at the same time. He expertly rolls forward, slicing at the knees of the first, before jumping to his feet and cutting off the head of the one directly behind him. A different wraith, this one smaller than the others, attempts to bite his thigh, but Aleksander stealthily flips over the creature and slices his blade through its neck. The final one wavers where it stands before charging forward with renewed vengeance.

Aleksander doesn’t even look the creature’s way as he dispatches it, instead choosing to keep his eyes on me. Arrogance oozes from his pores.

“I think you have it handled,” I drawl sarcastically.

“Suit yourself. More for me.”

We continue to fight and fight and fight, but more keep coming. We must’ve killed a few dozen already. The ground is littered with gray, emaciated corpses, and more often than not, I find myself stepping on and cracking flimsy bones. The noise causes my stomach to twist into knots.

A fun fact about wraiths—they don’t bleed red. The blood staining our weapons and the Forest floor is actually yellow in appearance. A hideous, jaundiced shade that reminds me of urine.

Fitting, I suppose, considering the corpses smell like a chamber pot.

A flash of gold captures my attention, and I turn just in time to see Kassandra walk farther into the Forest.

Farther away from us.

“Kassie?” Seeing no wraiths—at least ones that are still alive—in the immediate vicinity, I hurry after her. “Sunshine?”

Her gray dress catches in the light as she quickens her pace.

Where in Gaia’s name is she going?

“Kassie, come back here!” I yell, but she continues to move forward with a narrow-minded focus and determination, disappearing amongst the trees.

Indecision battles with fear in my chest. I know I should grab the others—I can hear the sounds of battle settling down—but I don’t dare allow Kassandra out of my sight. Where is she going? Did she see something? Someone? Is it that damn pacon of hers?

But no. I saw Runt in the battle with the others. The tiny creature was tearing at the ankles of the wraiths and allowing one of us to decapitate the confused creature.

“Kassandra!” I break into a run, but every time I almost reach her, she skirts a corner, and I lose her in the Forest once more.

My heart crashes against my rib cage with each consecutive tick.

I scrub at my sweat-soaked pink hair and spin in a circle.

Where in Gaia’s name am I?

I don’t recognize my surroundings. There are no gray wraith bodies on the ground. No putrid-smelling yellow blood. No Runt. No Blaze. No Aleksander.

No Kassandra.

“Kassie?” I ask again, holding my sword at the ready.

Foliage crackles behind me, and I spin, my weapon raised, only to immediately lower it when Kassandra steps into view.

Her head is lowered, golden hair a curtain around her face, and her hands hang limply by her sides.

My brain begins to scream at me, “WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!”

The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention, and every fiber of my being urges me to run.

This isn’t my mate.

I can feel that truth in the depths of my soul.

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