Page 106 of Untethering Dark

It had skated harmlessly across a hard film of ice—a protective barrier Astrid had made the moment it touched her neck.

And the warmth at her back...

She reached over her shoulder, hand coming away red, and turned.

Heldin hung three feet from the ground, arms limp at her sides, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Four bloody prongs sprouted from her torso; she was gored on Gudariks’s antlers. The moment Astrid’s winter winds settled, he charged.

With a ferocious shake of his head, he dislodged the ancient witch, and she fell to the ground in a broken heap.

Astrid crouched beside her, brushing the red curls from her face. Her eyes were glassy, all the fire gone.

She checked for a pulse, too, just to be sure, but Heldin was still, and growing colder by the second, life’s heat vacating the body. Not even the faintest trace of a heartbeat.

It was over. Their loved ones safe.

They could’ve been peers for how young Heldin still looked, features smooth and unblemished by time. So much power and knowledge wasted. So misguided and unchecked. A heroine and queen to her people, but a monster to all else.

What kept Astrid from falling to this same fate? Was it Mutter? Her friends, Johanna and Suri?

Gudariks sank to the ground, trembling as he brushed a hand over her forehead. Tilting his head this way and that, he examined her burned throat, then cradled her face. “You’re alive.” His voice broke on the words.

She reached for him, desperate to pull him into a crushing hug and never let go, but drew up short, her own hands unsteady.

Large patches of fur had been burned away in his attempts to rescue her, leaving the skin underneath red and raw. Some of the wounds were already beginning to scab over and heal, but many were not. Her hands continued to shake as they hovered over them, heat radiating off each.

“She didn’t cut me,” she rasped. Talking tickled her throat. “But you’re hurt.” She sucked her teeth at a particularly painful-looking burn and cupped his bony cheeks, wet with tears, theonly safe place to touch. It wasn’t until her cheeks tightened with their own frozen tears that Astrid realized she was crying, too. “These look bad.”

“They’ll look better once I’ve rested,” he assured, pressing his forehead to hers. “Are you all right, Liebe? Your hands are shaking.”

“Yours are, too.” She held on tight, soaking in what touch their wounded bodies allowed. “We almost lost each other today.” Twice over. Before their lives together even began.

“I know.” His voice was thick. “But we didn’t, because we have each other.”

“Stronger together.” She brought a hand to the center of his chest, as close as possible without touching skin, drawing away the heat of his burns. “This should help with the pain and reduce swelling.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can survive a little discomfort. Conserving your strength is more important.”

Astrid made a hushing sound.

“Allow me to tend to yours in return.” He brushed back her hair and cupped her chin. “What can I do?”

“Could use a glass of water,” she joked, turning her head to cough up another cloud of smoke.

“Poor throat.” He traced a finger down her chest, stopping short of the semi-sealed bullet wound, careful not to touch any tender skin. “Did you get him?”

“His head’s in my living room.”

“Good. Does it hurt?”

“A little sore, but nothing time and calendula oil won’t fix. Think it’ll leave a cool scar?”

“If you’ve absorbed my healing abilities, not much of one.”

“Ah well, can’t have it all.”

Pulling back, something caught on her antlers, roughly jerking her head.

“Oof, careful.” He winced. “Our antlers are caught on one another.”

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