Page 50 of The Moon's Fury
“Grab the reins,” he gritted out. She reached around him and held them in her shaking hands.
He gritted his teeth and gripped the first arrow with both hands, a pained groan slipping out as he snapped the shaft. Without pause, he reached for the second and did the same.
She tried to see over his shoulder, tried to inspect the wound in his side, but he kept his hand pressed over it, his skin slick with dark blood. He urged Najoom faster, his body tensing with every jolt.
“We need to stop. Let me see it,” she begged.
The humming in her ears grew louder as her panic spiked.
“We need to”—he bit out—“get farther away.” He took a shuddering breath, one that took far more effort than it warranted.
“Could be more.”
And he was right.
As they thundered past the base of the mountains, glinting arrows rained down on them, a handful of bandits trying their luck. Blessedly, none of the arrows met their mark. She managed to kill two more with her own arrows.
She had never heard of bandits hiding out in the Mountains—the desert was their way of life. What had driven them to find new homes?
Najoom rode farther away until they cleared the valley. Wetness spread along her thigh, seeping in through her clothing. To her horror, she realized it was Zarian’s blood, having drenched through his tunic and pants, now soaking into her trousers where her leg pressed against his.
“Zarian!” she called urgently, raising her voice over the whistling wind. “Stop Najoom now. We’re far enough.”
Mercifully, he listened this time, tugging on the reins until Najoom halted near a small patch of trees. She slid off and came around to Zarian’s wounded side. He was slumped in the saddle, face pale and ashen. Her knees buckled under his weight, but shemanaged to help him dismount. They stumbled to a large tree, where she helped him sit.
“Tell me what to do.” Her voice shook as she peeled back his cloak. Layna unlaced his baldric at the side, gingerly pulling it away from his slick tunic. She grabbed his dagger and cut through the fabric, mindful of the broken arrow shafts.
The sight set her heart into a frenzy.
His side was covered with fresh blood. The arrow was lodged beneath his ribs, the sharp head burrowed completely beneath his skin. The one on his shoulder was not as deep, the arrowhead only halfway embedded, but the skin around both wounds had turned a disturbing shade of green.
“Rocks … and dried … wood,” Zarian rasped between labored breaths. “Start a fire. Cauter—” His words failed him as he ran out of air. Najoom ambled over and lay beside him, snorting as he nuzzled Zarian’s face.
She darted between the trees, rushing to follow his instructions, afraid to leave him alone for too long. Najoom’s presence was only the smallest of comforts. The buzzing in her ears was almost deafening, a raging sandstorm threatening destruction.
Once she had a small pile of dried twigs encircled by stones, she used Zarian’s dagger and a small rock to create sparks. But tried as she might, it just didn’t catch. She kept frantically striking the rock, but something was missing—she had to be doing something wrong.
Useless, useless, useless.
What good was her royal education?
He was going to die because she couldn’t light a fire.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her movements grew erratic. Her heart pumped frantically in her chest, and the power in her veins was inconsolable, crackling with hot anger until Layna couldn’t see through her tears.
He was going to die.
He was going to die.
He was going to diebecause she couldn’t light a fucking fire.
A desperate cry escaped her, and light shot forth from her palms, a pulsing, blinding white light. Her eyes squinted as the pitiful pile of twigs disappeared in the glowing beam. She tried to stop it, to reel it back within her, but it didn’t heed her call. The power escaped her hands in thick, blinding torrents and refused to be tamed. Vaguely, she was aware of Najoom’s panicked whinny, but it was drowned out by her own earth-shaking cry.
Then, in a blink, the light vanished.
Her palms returned to normal, the bright glow fading away.
The buzzing in her ears dimmed.
