Page 37 of Fractured Shadows

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, meeting the orc’s hateful eyes. “I just didn’t know what to call you. I meant no insult.”

His nostrils flare as he watches me, and I shrink under that gaze. “You may call me Leefo, it means king in my language.” With that haughty reply, he turns and stomps away, leaving me slumping and dragging my feet after him.

You may call me Leefo, I mock internally, not daring to speak it out loud.

I understand why he hates my kind, but the pure hatred rolling from him is hard to swallow and makes me reluctant to help, and this journey I was enjoying now feels like an ordeal.

“Ignore him,parum anguis,” Nero purrs, sliding around me and squeezing me in a snake hug.

I smile softly at him and nod, and for the next few hours, Nero and Bracken tease and flirt with me, distracting me from the grumpy orc—until he roars and turns around, anger in his eyes.

“Will you three idiots shut up?” he yells, glaring at us.

That’s when I start to get mad.

“Hey, orc asshole. You can hate me as much as you want, but they have done nothing to you, so don’t you dare” —I storm toward him as I talk, going toe to toe with him— “speak to them like that!” I finish on my own yell, and silence stretches afterward.

“Wow, that’s hot,” Bracken mutters right before Grim snarls.

“Grab her!” I’m yanked back violently into Nero’s coils as they surround me. I flinch, waiting for the orc’s attack, but then I hear the sounds of swords clanging and whoops of a threat echo in the trees around us. Peering around Nero’s body, I see it’s not the orc as I suspected. It’s other creatures.

Trolls, if I’m right, and they are swarming from the trees around us.

Great.

Bracken grins, leaning back next to me in Nero’s coils. “What are we betting orc boy gets his ass kicked?”

“Shh,” I mutter, worriedly looking around. Nero has to turn to face an attack, sweeping down three eight-foot stone trolls, ripping one apart with his tail and leaving me standing next to Bracken for a moment. I’m not protected for only a second, but in that time, I feel a breath move my hair. Swallowing thickly, I turn and look up…

And up…

And up into a troll’s face, where he hangs from the tree above.

“Nice troll,” I squeak out just as Bracken yanks me out of the way. He flips us, bowing over me, and grunts as the troll hammers its fists down on him. When it stops, he lets me go. I stumble and catch my balance before turning.

“That. Wasn’t. Nice,” Bracken spits out before leaping at the troll. I stumble back near the trees, desperately trying to avoid the fists that would crush my body, when another grabs me.

“Help!” I scream, unable to reach my knife. Everyone else is engaged. Grim is fighting six, the orc is facing down almost ten, and Zetros is peeling them from Nero. Bracken rips the throat out of a troll’s throat and then turns to me, muttering as he rushes after me. The troll that grabbed me runs through the trees so fast, I can’t even see before we suddenly stop and I’m dropped to the ground hard enough to knock my breath free.

Bracken is there just as swiftly, standing over me with a frown.

“My human, stone bitch,” he spits out.

With a mighty roar, the troll lunges at him for daring to take his prize. Bracken is quick and dodges some blows, but he begins to slow quickly, and the troll slams his fist into his side. He falls to his knees, breathing heavily as I scramble to mine, grabbing my knife.

The troll grips a tree trunk and hits Bracken with it, sending him flying before he’s impaled on another broken one.

I realize I’m screaming, my eyes locked on Bracken, who looks shocked. He pulls himself from the trunk and falls to his knees, his hand coming up to cover the gaping hole spewing blood everywhere.

“Bracken!” I yell, terror racing through me.

His eyes flick up to mine in fear before he falls to his back. Something within me erupts, and the scream that rips from my throat is filled with agony, fear, fury, and pain. Just like when I had sex, it seems to carry the magic, exploding from me. The waves of my scream and magic slam the troll back into a tree, and it’s out cold or dead—I don’t bother to know which.

I stumble, sagging to the ground as if my strings were cut. Whatever magic was flowing through me is suddenly gone. My eyes go to Bracken in worry as I start to drag myself over.

“Help me, Goldie. I’m dying!” Bracken calls dramatically with a teasing lilt, but when I drop to his side, he’s pale and losing blood. My eyes widen as panic takes hold. He may be joking, but he looks like he’s in serious danger.

“Grim!” I scream, but Bracken takes my hand.

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