Page 100 of A Petal in the Crown

“This is your last chance,” Gray said, raising his sword.

The gray fenrir looked up at Gray, its eyes sad, and Erik paused, uneasiness swirling in his stomach. The wolf tilted its head and took astep back, as if trying to communicate with them.We don’t want to fight you,he seemed to say.Don’t make us.

But, why would the fenrir not want to fight them? Why were they here, if not to help Alaric destroy his enemy? And yet it was clear the beasts would find no joy in killing them. From the way they stood statue still, waiting for Gray to make the first move, it was obvious that complete carnage wasn’t their goal. Erik’s mind spun as he searched for their reason, but he didn’t have time to solve the riddle.

Gray sent his shadows forward, bringing eight fenrir to their knees immediately, their eyes bulging from their sockets as he strangled them with darkness. He stalked forward, sword raised in the air as the others launched, teeth bared and claws exposed. Erik kept Janelle at his back, fighting in a circle with her as the fenrir surged upon them.

Wolf after wolf tried to push them back, their eyes pleading as they approached.Don’t kill me. You don’t have to do this…they said.

“Gray,” Erik shouted over the din of battle.

“I know.” Gray said, his eyes pained and his face covered in blood. “I know. But I have to get to her,” he said, stabbing another fenrir through the heart. He didn’t have to say more. Erik knew exactly what he was feeling. What was motivating him. Something was wrong. Nothing was adding up. These animals didn’t want to kill them, and they didn’t deserve to die.

But that didn’t matter. Gray would do anything to get to his mate, even if it killed him. Erik understood, because he would do the same.

Chapter 66

Emma

The darkness didn't last long. Emma peeled her eyes open, her grogginess easing as if pulling off a thick, heavy blanket. She stood—or at least, her soul did. Panic flooded her veins as she looked down upon her unconscious body cradled in Thomas's arms. He tucked her close, carrying her off into the depths of the Wicked Wood to hide.

Heart pounding, she chased after him, her dagger still tight in her hand. She’d made sure to hold it tight while drinking the potion, hoping that it would keep the dead away from her as she slept, but now, looking at her body, she was grateful for an entirely different reason.

It was alarming how vulnerable she looked. How flaccid her limbs were, her head lolling back and feet swinging with every step Thomas took. She held her breath as he tucked her inside a fallen tree, crouching down to tuck the hair back from her face. She shivered as she peered over his shoulder, searching her body for signs of life.

The anxiety swirling between her ribs eased a fraction as she watched her chest rise and fall with ease, the deep, rhythmic breath of sleep obvious. Her pulse jumped beneath her jaw, and Emma reached out her shaking hand, pressing two fingers against it to feel the steady thump of her heart. Is this what the new potion had done? Allowed her to interact with the world while tethered to the other side?

"Thomas?" Emma said, following him as he moved to hide behind the thickest part of the trunk. He didn't answer, totally unaware of her presence, his head scanning the forest as he searched for threats. She reached out to him, cupping his cheek, and he leaned into her touch, exhaling softly.

"Thomas?" she asked again, moving her hand down to his shoulder and squeezing. Could he feel her? Did he know, somewhere in his subconscious, that she was here with him?

“I’m here,” she said, looking around to search for the souls of the dead, wondering if they would come to find her while she lingered in the in-between.

But there were none. Not a single soul. None of the men who had haunted the Wicked Wood before. Not a single soldier who had fallen in the battle raging so close to where they hid. Normally, the dead were drawn to her like a magnet, but Emma wouldn’t second guess their absence. It was a blessing, to not have to experience their agony and suffering.

She turned back to face Thomas, her heart sinking as a group of very much alive soldiers appeared behind him, creeping forward with their swords ready. Their eyes were blank, almost unseeing, as if they’d been put under a spell, and Emma wondered what kind of enchantment Alaric had cast over them. She couldn't sense their emotions or motives—just… emptiness. Was it because she wasn’t fully a part of their world as she straddled the in between? Or were they being so deeply controlled by Alaric’s power that they had no thoughts or feelings of their own?

"Behind you!" Emma grabbed Thomas’s shoulder again, this time shaking him. "Behind you!" she yelled louder, willing with everything she had for her voice to be heard. This time, he turned around, jumping to his feet and holding out his sword. Thomas's hands shook as he positioned hisbody in front of Emma, still hidden within the trunk of the tree.

"He said you’d be hiding," the soldier in the front sneered. "Where's the girl?"

"What girl?" Thomas asked, his eyebrows lowering. He tilted his head. "I don't know who you're talking about."

"Of course you do," the soldier mocked, stalking forward, his eyes as black as night. "He said we’d find a man with brown hair, ahuman, hiding away like a coward. Guarding the girl that allows the worlds to join together." The soldiers spread out, surrounding the tree trunk, their eyes examining every inch. "He said you wouldn't be far from her. So where is she?"

Emma moved to stand in front of her sleeping body as if, somehow, she could help hide it from their view.

"I said, I don't know what you're talking about," Thomas said.

The soldier’s jaw clenched. "Make this easy, human. Tell us where she is, and I'll let you live."

"There's no one—" Thomas began, but the soldier cut him off, jumping forward with inhuman speed and pressing the edge of his sword to Thomas's throat.

Thomas retaliated without hesitation, raising his own sword to press it against the soldier's stomach, just above his belly button.

The soldier laughed as if Thomas was holding a dull butter knife. "You think you can defeat me?" he challenged. A chuckle spread between the soldiers, a mocking echo dancing through the trees. "You?” He pressed the tip of the sword harder into Thomas’s throat, and a drop of deep red blood welled beneath it. Emma's heart thundered, and she wondered if her body could feel it, still resting only inches away.

The soldier assessed Thomas, his gaze slowly raking down his body until his gaze dropped to Thomas's foot, and Emma followed hisline of sight to where a sliver of her dress peeked out from the log. The soldier stiffened, and Thomas ducked to the side, thrusting his sword upward. The sword against his neck drug sideways, and he hissed in pain, but there was no time to check how severe the injury was or try to stem the bleeding. The other soldiers lunged forward, grabbing Thomas and wrenching his arms behind his back while another callously pulled Emma’s body from the tree, ripping her out by her arm.

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