Page 103 of Slaying the Shadow Prince
Drue
Darkness erupted, and Drue was free-falling. Cold wind whipped her exposed skin as she tumbled through the air, arms and legs flailing, a scream caught in her throat. She could see nothing but inky black, could feel nothing but the kiss of the air as she plummeted through it.
It seemed to last an age, as though time and space warped around her.
The scent of cedar and dark florals tangled with shadow, a featherlight touch to each of her senses.
Then, she hit the ground, soft grass cushioning her.
For a moment, all she did was breathe. In and out, in and out, trying to quell the panic and grief and sorrow that threatened to bubble up from inside her.
A cloak of shadow was pulled from her body, bathing her in the golden light of dusk.
Squinting, Drue looked around. ‘How…?’ But the rest of the words wouldn’t form, her skin still buzzing with the magic that had swept them from one place to the next. She had never known wraiths to do such a thing. But with the Warsword, they had done just that. They had travelled a considerable distance without moving a foot on the ground.
Talemir had shadow-walked them from the monsters’ lair to safety…
‘What the fuck?’ Adrienne managed before dry-heaving.
She and Wilder were nearby, looking equally shocked and shaken. They had been returned to the outskirts of the forest, where the Naarvian forces had been ordered to wait. Around them, rangers were screaming in terror at what they’d just witnessed. Some were outraged, cries of vengeance on their lips.
And Talemir was gone.
A strangled noise escaped Drue, and she doubled over on the grass, her spine curling, pain hitting her deep in her chest. Her hand splayed wide across her breast as though that could somehow contain all that raged within, but it would not stop. She felt herself caving in. Everything coursing through her was suddenly too much.
She tipped her head to the sky and screamed. She couldn’t save them. She couldn’t kill him. She had failed in every sense. There was nothing left —
A firm hand gripped her shoulder. ‘Drue?’ Adrienne’s voice sounded distant, far away from this gods-forsaken place, from this nightmare.
The antechamber flashed before her eyes, the memory of its stench filling her nose until she gagged. The sight of her people with leathered skin and talons, the sight of Gus, his jumper in ruins, his stare black and vacant.
Adrienne shook her. ‘Drue, I’m here.’
‘But Gus isn’t,’ Drue croaked. ‘Neither is Talemir. He’s gone.’
‘What do you mean, he’s gone?’ Wilder stormed towards them. He looked dishevelled and unhinged, that same rage he’d carried with him since the moment they’d met still simmering below the surface.
That, more than anything else, grounded Drue.
She couldn’t recall crying, but her face was wet with tears and she palmed them away with her sleeve. Talemir Starling did not get her tears. Not after what he’d done. Not after betraying her, leaving her.
Drue turned to the younger Warsword, letting her own fury shine through. ‘He’s left us. Abandoned us.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ Wilder bit out.
It was then that Drue realised everyone was staring at them. The rangers had been waiting for word from Terrence and instead had seen their leaders fall from the sky in a cloak of shadow before their very eyes.
Now, the hawk circled overhead, cawing in distress.
Drue was on her feet in an instant. She had had her moment of weakness, and now it was time for strength.
She lifted her chin in defiance, eyeing Wilder critically. ‘Don’t you?’
The Warsword opened his mouth as though he meant to argue, ready for a fight. Drue didn’t back down; she was just as ready. The duel with Talemir had barely scratched the surface of her fury.
But to her surprise, Wilder took a step back.
She watched as he moved about the camp, snatching up his pack and shouldering it before taking his stallion from an intimidated stable hand.
