Page 277 of Swords of Soul and Shadow
It was like he stood on the surface of the sun. He could barely feel Samuel’s weight against his chest or Clara’s form beneath his hands. He nearly lost hold on his reality.
And then it was over. The noise around him returned, and then Kainadr’s face appeared before his. Jove blinked.
“I healed your wife,” he said, so casually calm it bordered on absurd. “You can let her go.”
Jove looked down at Clara, whose eyes had cleared, losing their glassy luster. Relief hit him like a summer rainstorm, and he let out a restrained sob. “Thank you.”
You can let her go.No, he couldn’t. He’d never let her go again.
Clara pushed herself up and tugged him to her. He kissed her, her lips desperate and salty from tears.
“Have faith, my love,” she whispered into the kiss.
Jove couldn’t answer, only nodded, pressing his forehead to hers. It was okay. She was okay.
He needed to get heroutof this city.
Kainadr helped them up, throwing some dust out again, and in seconds, a sword materialized in his outstretched hand. “Got to use it once, but turns out I really am merely gifted withthe healing arts. Take it—I’m as likely to slice my own head off as someone else’s. It will help with the shadows. Get your wife out of here.”
If the situation hadn’t been so dire, he might’ve laughed. Instead, Jove took the sword from him and nodded. “Let’s go.”
Clara swathed Samuel in her bloodstained wrap and clasped Jove’s hand. Her fingers were warm and alive, safe and snug in his own. She was alive.
They took off from the market square.
Jove’s free hand clung to Kainadr’s sword, ready to swing at anyone who dared come close. No one would touch his wife again. “Where is your mother? If you can make it to Windwick or one of the other nearby hamlets, you should be able to wait it out until…”
Clara let out a muffled sob. Jove stopped, dropping her hand. “What? What happened?”
Clara shook her head, her face and clothing still covered in blood. She brought a hand to her mouth, tears spilling onto her cheeks. “The soldier…I can’t…I tried…”
Shouting echoed off the lanes behind him, but he ignored it.
Jove had just pulled her into his arms—unsure what happened but knowing it was bad—when white-hot pain struck him from behind. He cried out, careening forward. Clara screamed, catching him, holding him steady. His vision sputtered, flitting in and out, her face swimming before him. He fell to his knees
More shouting erupted behind him. Jove turned just enough to see Kainadr picking up the sword he’d just given Jove, swinging it with all the strength he had at one of the gray shadows, but the shadow was faster. It dodged the sword, and before Kainadr could recover, the shadow struck hard. Bloodspurted from his stomach, and the Yalv went limp. The shadow wrenched its hand back out. Kainadr collapsed.
Clara screamed again. Jove fought against the lightning pain in his back. He didn’t know if Kainadr could survive that, but he would not let that thing kill his wife and child. The ground beneath him was slick with blood, too slick—his hands kept slipping as he tried to shove himself up.
Before he could fight his way to his feet, a rolling crack of thunder rent the air and threw him back to the ground. His head hit the cobblestones hard, and his head rang with the impact. Pain radiated through his skull and rattled his teeth. Another wave of energy crackled and blasted apart the shadow above him. A third wave had him heaving.
And then it was done.
He couldn’t breathe deep enough, and Clara sobbed his name above him, trying to push him onto his side and stem the flow of the blood leaking out his back. His nerves sparked like loose wires, chills erupting over his feverish skin. Nausea rose in his stomach, and it took everything in him not to heave again. His body couldn’t take it.
Weakness drifted through his limbs, and the thudding pulse in his ears slowed its rhythm. His vision sputtered and fizzed, gray at the edges.
Was this what it felt like to die?
He squeezed his eyes tight. No. Not like this. Not here, not now. Samuel and Clara needed him. He would not leave them here with no one to protect them. He refused to give in. Not yet.
He had more to live for.
Ironic he had to be dying to realize that.
He wrenched his eyes open and pressed hard against the nausea and weakness. The shapes above him were blurry and unfocused one second, snapped into clarity the next, then phased out again. Another face had joined Clara’s in hoveringover him, a man Jove vaguely recognized but couldn’t place. The blond man had a gnarly cut above his eye, dark red blood mixed with clotted brown covering half his face, but his brown eyes were clear and free of black ink. “You Kase’s brother?”
His ears felt full of water, and it took him a few extra seconds to realize what the man said.
