Page 29 of Ties of Death

We’re descending, I realize.

Daenn must have finished off the second man while I was focused on the third.

Sooner than I would expect, we reach the ground, landing with barely more than a thump. And then Daenn is pulling meagainst his chest as we slide from the saddle. His hands moved to my arms, and he holds me back enough to look over me. “Are you hurt?”

He’s shaking, I realize, and over the link I can tell it’s the residue of the anger, of the panic from before. From almost losing me.

I take the chance to look over him too, check him for battle wounds. But he’s whole, and that realization almost makes me collapse in relief. That relief echoes back to me from him as he pulls me in for a hug, crushing me to his chest.

“You’re okay,” he whispers, and I can tell he’s saying the words for himself more than me.

“I’m okay,” I agree, somewhat shocked that they’re true. I almost died, but he snatched me from the jaws of death. Then he took down two men while encumbered with me. He’s truly a marvel. He shifts, and then he’s pressing a kiss to my hair crown. My arms tighten around him in shock.

He must sense my surprise, maybe feel it over the link, because he freezes and pulls away, expression tight. Panic echoes over our bond.

“We need to find those bodies. Stay here. Rest.” And then he’s striding away, whistling to Storm to follow as he hurries off.

I watch him go, overly aware that I can sense his emotions even as he flees—because that is exactly what he is doing. Fleeing from his relief, from a longing as deep in his chest as it is in mine. I wish I could flee from it too. Instead, I drop to the ground and dig my fingers into the earth there, needing the solid connection, and desperately try to wrestle down my own emotions so he won’t feel them. My confusion, my own aching disappointment. My quiet longing that makes no sense whatsoever.

16

A Bid for the Throne

It doesn’t take Daenn long to find one of our enemies. He must have had Storm land us near where he thought they fell, because I can still see him through the trees when he crouches down.

I stay pinned to the ground for a few minutes until my heart rate slows, and then I force myself up to help Daenn. He shouldn’t have to deal with the bodies alone.

I find him kneeling over the gruesome corpses. I grit my teeth to keep my stomach’s contents in my body, but it takes effort, because with this sight another realization slams into me: I killed a man. No, I didn’t stab him like Daenn, but I wielded my magic against him, and he’s dead as a result.

I am a killer.

I didn’t cry over nearly dying, but somehow this has my eyes watering. I blink back the tears. We don’t have time for me to fall apart. I’m sure it’s unavoidable, that soon Iwillhave to face what I’ve done, but I will put it off for as long as I can.

I rip my gaze away from the awful wounds and find Daenn watching me.

“Emana…”

“I’m fine,” I say quickly, focusing my gaze on the clan colors the rider wears. I hear a quiet sigh from Daenn, but he lets mebe. Gratitude has me fighting back the tears even more than before. Stupid tears.

I blink again and study the clothes. I can place the clan colors now that I’m not hurtling to my death. “They’re South Peak riders.”

Viggo’s clan. Daenn doesn’t say it, but I know he’s thinking the same thing I am.

Viggo is behind this. Whether Viggo intended them to only kill Daenn or to kill us both doesn’t really matter. What matters is that he made a bid for the throne, and if he’s done this here, winds only know what he’s done at home.

Suddenly, the three days we’ll take to get back home feel too long.

We find Raindrop’s saddle, but no Raindrop. We collect what we can, but only so much will fit in Storm’s saddlebags, which are already mostly full with other supplies.

“Perhaps she panicked and flew back to the mountain,” I finally say. I can’t help the hope threading the words. Gryphons are precious, and losing even one is a tragedy in the clan.

“Perhaps.” Daenn’s agreement is stoic, not betraying any of the worry and anger I can sense simmering in him. Now that I’ve realized that I can feel him over the bond, it’s so easy to tell, especially with how my tattoo warms and tingles whenever I sense his emotions. It’s incredible—unbelievable, even—that I didn’t make the connection before.

I wonder if he knows, if he’s realized that he can feel my emotions too, but I’m afraid to ask. If he did, how long has he been seeing into my heart?

It’s almost a relief that he doesn’t exactly give me a chance to ask as we assess and gather things from the damaged saddle.

And then we’re returning to Storm. Daenn stops at his gryphon’s head, setting his forehead againstStorm’s. A peace settles over him as he communes with his gryphon, a hum that reaches into me through our bond and soothes me too.

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