Page 46 of Feral Guardian
“He would’ve followed us,” I say.
She swallows hard. “I know. I just feel bad. I played cards with him, and he begged for his life.”
My grip softens on her chin. “He wouldn’t have used that second chance for good. He didn’t deserve it.”
“You’re right.” She nods, but I can see the regret in her eyes.
I want to take that feeling away from her. I want to take away this whole situation and have her with me safe at home in the palace. Safe where she can smile again and play pranks.
My hand slides from her chin to the back of her neck, and I pull her against my chest. Her arms come around me and her little nails dig into my sides as she squeezes me tight. I hold her against me through her quiet, trembling sobs, feeling her tears soak into my shirt.
“I’m going to get you home safely, Lily.” I brush my lips against the crown of her head and whisper softly, “I promise.”
Chapter fourteen
Lily
Alastair limps beside me as we explore the rocky area. Kor’Tar trails behind, looking as if he’s about to shit his nonexistent pants. He saw that bear, and he is not a stupid horse, so I’m sure he’s worried about a repeat.
I am not, however. That demon bear had horns, and given how much Alyse gabs at me about “Yegress’s design” this and “animal behavior” that from her books, I know horns are a territorial design. Horns mean that the beast would fight other beasts of its kind for mates and a den.
Alastair has horns in his demon form…
Mates.
I mentally slap myself.
Given how absolutely massive the demon bear was, I doubt that any others like it would be within a two- or three-mile radius, but probably larger. Alastair agrees, and we make our way into the rocks seeking shelter.
He’s been awake for hours now, and I’m more aware than ever that we need to settle down for the night, despite it being midday. His back was so badly damaged, and he wouldn’t let me heal it any further.
I scent a slight rotten-egg aroma and stop to look at Alastair. “You didn’t just…did you?”
“Just what?” he asks, looking as if he’s ready to lay upon his deathbed.
“I smell sulfur,” I say.
He comes alert and inhales deeply through his nose. “I do, too.”
Alastair takes the lead, putting Kor’Tar’s reins in my hand.
“What, you think some kind of monster is having tummy distress ahead?” I ask, patting the good boy on the snout. He huffs appreciatively and nudges my hair.
“I don’t know what’s ahead, so it’s better for me to go first,” Alastair says, readying his axe.
The trees sway gently in the breeze, yellow pollen drifting off the pine needles into the air. Pinecones and branches snap under my feet as we walk. The morning chill has receded, leaving the air pleasantly cool.
“How did you do it?” Alastair asks suddenly.
“What?” I retort.
“The briars,” he says, his gaze scanning back and forth through the trees. “You made them move.”
How much do I tell him? Should I reveal the depths of my mother’s efforts to expose my power? Should I tell him all the ways she turned me into a conduit of wrath for the throne?
She doesn’t even know she succeeded…no one does.
“I was bored at school, so I started working on a new way to wield rune-writing. I can draw runes directly in the air with my magic and specific hand gestures. My urictsa rings help me amplify and channel it, but I assume it’s possible for anyone with strong enough magus blood to accomplish.”
