Page 122 of Slaying the Shadow Prince
Talemir choked on a gasp as he felt a cord within him sever, the sensation sudden and icy. Only instinct kept him airborne through the shock.
Black blood showered Talemir and those below.
He yanked his blade from the creature and let it fall. The reaper plummeted to the scorched ground below.
And as it did, countless wraiths began to fade, their skin peeling away in flakes, caught in the breeze.
Still reeling from the ripped connection, Talemir sucked in a deep breath of crisp air, searching himself for any consequences of what he’d done. But besides the initial jolt, there was nothing. He was whole.
He landed deftly by the reaper’s body and, with his dagger, slashed out its poisoned heart. His wraith sire was dead. Panting and clutching the hot mass in his hand, he looked around, dazed and disorientated, watching as the remaining wraiths fled back across the seas to the Veil.
Then, Drue was there, bruised and bloodied, soot staining her cheek, more beautiful than he’d ever seen her before.
Talemir dropped the reaper’s heart on the burnt ground and pulled the fierce ranger into his arms.
Forgetting everything else, he kissed her.
It was a kiss that started the world anew.
33
Drue
Talemir Starling, the winged Warsword, kissed her amid the ashes. Drue clung to him desperately, pressing her body to his as though to memorise every dip and curve that fitted so perfectly together.
They had done it.
Together, they had defeated the wraiths and the reapers.
She kissed him back fiercely as the surrounding darkness abated, fading away, drifting into the wind.
When they broke apart at last, Drue looked up at Talemir, his hazel eyes bright despite the blood coating his skin. The midday sun passed through the clouds, illuminating the red in his wings.
He brushed his lips over hers again. ‘You’re alright?’ he breathed.
She craved more contact, but understood he needed reassurance first. ‘I am. Are you?’
The Warsword nodded, pressing his brow to hers, seeming to breathe her in for a moment.
Squeezing his hand, Drue stepped back at last to survey the aftermath of the battle. The earth was scorched beneath their boots, not a single bloom left in the cinders. Drue’s throat seized at that.
But the fire had been a cleansing too, for there was no sign of any wraith but the one by her side, and the boy-wraith in the near distance.
Wilder joined them at the heart of the charred field.
‘Eight dead,’ he told them, his voice sombre. ‘Two dozen or more injured…’
Drue’s chest tightened and Talemir’s thumb stroked the back of her hand. ‘Any word from Adrienne?’
The younger Warsword nodded. ‘Blue smoke to the west not long ago. They made it.’
Drue felt her whole body sag with relief. Adrienne had rescued the others and set the horrific lair ablaze.
Thank the Furies, she thought.
But there was more to do. ‘Do we know how many wraiths escaped?’ she asked.
Wilder sighed. ‘Hard to say when a horde of them just evaporated…’
