Page 210 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

Destry and I scour the area, watching for anything, so much as a twinge of movement.

“I think you got them all.” There are bodies everywhere.

“Good.” Beads of sweat coat his forehead. “Now, I need you two to get yourselves down.”

“That is amusing.” The ground is at least thirty feet below us.

He tugs at his tunic, revealing a gash across his collarbone, and my stomach drops.

“You are not kidding.”

“It’s not merth, at least, but unless you wish to sit up there for the next few hours until it heals and my affinity works again, I suggest you either test your skills or your strength.”

“Mine is not strong enough to carry us down.”

“Fine.” He juts his chin toward the trunk.

Destry shimmies and swings her lithe body from our branch, dropping to the next, and the next, landing on the forest floor with a soft thud.

“See? Easy.”

“For a peasant child who played in the dirt, perhaps,” I snap, my anxiety flaring.

Tyree gives me a mock shocked look. “Did the princess never climb a single tree in that royal garden?”

“Of course not. I did many things in those trees, but climbing them was not one.”

“Yes, I’ve heard the stories.” He grins. “Come on now, you can do it.”

With a huff, I crawl across the branch like an inchworm, hugging it so tight, the bark picks at the fabric of my clothes.

Below, Tyree purses his lips to keep from laughing.

“Shut up!”

“I haven’t said a word!” He sheaths his swords. “I was just thinking about ways you can use these moves on me later.”

A burst of laughter slips from me, my nerves frazzled. “You are an idiot, Tyree.”

“An idiot you adore.”

“We must keep moving.” Destry fishes through the Azyr’s pockets to find her pendant. Three more dangle from her fist, two with bigger stones than her own. I suppose they have real value to her kind.

“Come on, try, Annika. I will catch you either way. I promise.”

I know better than to question him. With a deep inhale, I copy Destry’s earlier moves, far wobblier on my landings. I make it all the way to the last branch before my feet scrape past and I plummet …

And land in Tyree’s arms.

“There you go,” he whispers, setting me down.

My hands roam his body, checking for any other wounds besides the one he showed me. There are several, but none look that deep.

He presses a kiss to my temple, then my nose, then a lingering one on my lips. “As much as I enjoy you groping me, Destry’s right, we need to go.” He leads me to our horse, helping me up. After collecting a few extra daggers from the fallen soldiers, he joins me, taking the reins.

I hug him tight as Destry leads us forward through the grim battlefield.

“So, Destrelia the deserter …,” Tyree calls out. “What’s the story to that?”

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