Heirot

Tenara braced herself against the stack of wood, dragging air into her ever-tightening chest. She heard his foot steps behind her over the roar of her heart in her ears, and the sound made her want to leap from the porch and run as far as she could. Only, he would always be right behind her. Always on her heels. He couldn't help it. The sword would pull him and she couldn't leave the sword.

She'd hoped he would stay inside. That she could have a moment alone to calm herself, and rebuild the walls seeing Rami—understanding what he'd done—had torn down. She gripped a log, the bark digging into her palms. She took a breath, drawing the morning air into her lungs like she was coming up from a deep, cold dive.

She was still too afraid to look at him, but she did. She forced herself to draw the single log from the pile and turn. She lifted her gaze, her face hard. "I'll rest. I'll take us back." She wasn't certain she could, but she would try. She feigned to touch the sword, but didn't. It would be like touching him, and she didn't think he'd want that. "I'll give the sword to someone else, and you can be free of me."

He paused at the edge of the yard. His throat worked, but he couldn't think of what to say to her. She seemed so overwhelmed and unwell. Perhaps her queen could heal her. But if the process of going back was anything like the process used to get here, neither their bodies nor their destination would survive the process. "Perhaps all that should wait," he answered her cautiously. "Tenara-"

He paused as a low, midnight growl sounded nearby. A moment later, there was an exchange of snarls. The sound of large predators bickering.

Havitharon's gaze locked on the treeline while he approached her slowly, despite everything that had just happened. He moved toward her side with a predator's grace, as silent as the woods had suddenly become around them. He had the stark, instinctive sense that they were being hunted. "Do you have the strength to run?" he asked beneath his breath.

Tenara held the log in her trembling hands like a club. She glanced to it, placed it back on the woodpile as quietly as she could. Did she have the strength to run? No.

"Yes," she said. She wouldn't use him. Not for anything. She would not be the woman he thought she was. She reached down and gathered her soaked skirts into her hands, dragging them up to her knees, preparing to flee from whatever lurked in the shadows of the forest.

He could here the tremor in her voice as clearly as he could see it in her arms. Run? She seemed she could barely stand.

Even the insects had gone quiet now. Through the drizzling rain, he thought he could just make out something darker behind the treeline. "Tenara...the sword," he whispered, crossing a step closer to her.

Tenara turned her face up to him, admiring the hard gaze he'd set on the trees. She released her skirts and reached for the sword, drawing it slowly, quietly. It trembled in her hands, and she tightened her fingers around the hilt to try and still the shake. "Here," she said, trying to pass it to him. Surely he wouldn't want her using it.

He glanced down at the sword. It looked grimy. Not the biggest shock, after all that rolling in the mud. He thought of the last time he'd tried to touch it himself. Would it even be possible for him to wield it in a fight? Before he could make up his mind, the creatures hunting them took advantage of their unready stance. Three great beasts with the figures of giant cats and the hard, scaly skin and tails of something more reptilian rushed like cannons from the brush.

Havitharon rushed for the log Tenara had just been leaning on and hurled it toward one of the beasts. It caught it full in the chest, and the creature seemed surprised enough to pause and get its bearings. The other two reached them at blinding speed, both focused on the weaker-looking prey. Havitharon tried to grab the sword Tenara was offering him, but touching it sucked him straight to his knees. He leaned forward on his palms and fought against the sudden rush of dizziness.

"I'll distract them. Wield it as best you can, and run," he wheezed to Tenara, shoving back to his feet and breaking into a sprint toward the closer of the two unfazed beasts.

She didn't have time to argue. One of the creatures snapped at her. She yelped, twisting narrowly away from the sharp teeth. She ran, and it snapped at her heels. She swung her sword, the heavy weight cleaving through the air far too slow for her liking. The creature danced back, and around, and lunged towards her again. She twisted, swinging the sword back in the other direction, up, and then down, trying to cleave the creatures head off. It danced away, only to dive back in almost immediately after the sword had passed through the air. It caught her skirt with its teeth as she fled, and snapped its head so quickly it snatched her off her feet. She screamed and swung the sword up as it dove for her, burying the blade in its chest near the shoulder. Hot blood splattered on her, and the beast roared.

Havitharon rose up in the dirt and shook his head to clear it. The huge animal he'd just launched himself into was doing the same, getting to its feet beside him with an angry glow in its eyes. Meanwhile, the one he'd injured earlier was recovered and turning its attention back on Tenara. He spared her just enough of a glance to see she was pinned under the third of the pack. He could see it writhing away from the sword, twisting for a better angle to gnash at the prey trapped beneath it. Shit.

Desperate, he reached out with his mind, checking to see if that connection he'd had with the sword, or her, or both, back in the castle was still there. He tried to find something familiar to hold onto at the edges of what he assumed were her thoughts, but it was hard to find anything familiar or welcoming about her mind. Unfortunately, that wasn't much of a surprise. He saw the great cat lunge in at her, and all he could do was imagine what he would be doing in her position, how he would roll and strike the sword from the side, taking advantage of its injured shoulder for shelter from the creature's incoming friend.

There was panic in Tenara, but also something else. A thread of knowing that felt part of her and foreign at once. She was too tired and frightened not to listen, so she did. She rolled up as best she could and slammed her palm against the flat edge of the sword until the creature howled, twisted and reared, thrashing until it released itself and stumbled back into its brother.

Tenara scrambled onto her feet, dragging the sword as she fled.

At their packmate's screams, the other two creatures' movements took on fresh fury. Even the one Havi had been distracting now ran past him, straight for Tenara. Havitharon lurched forward, even though no amount of speed was going to get him there in time to make any difference. She was going to die here.

That shithead father of hers would be a wreck, he thought, as time seemed to slow down. So would the queen. That whore who had tried to kill her would never know, and probably never care. She would die here, alone.

And... he would lose her, too.

Anger rushed through him like a storm. He would fail her. Maybe she would think he did it on purpose. Who could blame her? The creature was in the air, claws and fangs bared, and she was defenseless. He needed to move the sword. Use it! He needed to be ten meters closer, between her and that creature, and there was no time to do it. His unbearably hot skin went numb, and his thoughts melted to white.

USE ME!

His body dissolved into violet sparks. They danced over the ground toward Tenara and the attacking cats, swam over her body like cold static, and filled her head with explosive, single-minded clarity.

Tenara knew what to do. She knew it like she knew the taste of caramel and chocolate, like the sound of her name on her mother's tongue, like the feel of the ocean's kiss against her feet. She knew, and she moved and the world blurred into blood-tinged chaos. The sword was a feather in her hand, and she danced with it. Weary legs were strong and sturdy, her feet sure of themselves. The sorrow in her mind faded, and there was nothing but now. Nothing but surviving—battle and blood and breath in her lungs. It felt thrilling and freeing and she clung to it, all too happy to have it drown out everything else. All too happy to let it save her.

When it was finished, she sank to her knees in blood-soaked mud. Shredded meat, severed parts, and hunks of the beasts lay scattered about her. All three of them were dead. She was covered in dark red, seemingly having bathed in a pool of blood, and so much so that it was hard to tell if any of it was hers. Her gaze dropped to her hands, where they clutched the hilt of the sword. She draped it across her lap, took her ruined skirts and cleaned the blood and grime from the blade tenderly.

"It's okay," she said, tracing the edge of the sword with tattered satin. "They're gone now... You can come out, if you can..." Her throat tightened. She wasn't sure why he'd done it—why he'd saved her, of all people—but she was grateful. "Thank you."

Havi let the strange warmth of her voice soak into his soul like a balm. The weapon in her hands glowed to life, giving off pulses of soft violet light as it faded from sight. Havi's mortal form glowed into being before her. He appeared kneeling between her knees in an almost meditative pose, intimately close to her just as the sword had been a moment before. He opened his eyes slowly, still looking unfocused. A rivulet of beast's blood that had sprayed across her cheek caught his bleary attention, and he absently wiped it away with his thumb.

Tenara watched him, transfixed as he appeared before her. The weight of the sword was gone, but she could feel his legs pressed against hers. He was so close…

And then he touched her cheek, his thumb brushing the blood away, and it was such a kind gesture that her heart ached from it.

She thought he would laugh at her. That he would relish in her hurt because it meant a woman had gotten what was coming to them. But he’d saved her…

Tenara lunged forward. She didn’t have to go very far. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled herself tight against him, pressing her cheek to his chest. She clenched her eyes tight, waiting for him to shove her away.

The muscles in his back and arms went taut at her sudden contact, and he blinked several times to try to grasp what was going on now that his senses were returning to him. A moment ago, he'd been nothing but an angry ball of logic and instinct. Some gentle contact had drawn him back, lulling him despite himself. Maybe that was why he managed to simply draw backward, unwilling to risk injuring her if he pried her off violently.

A twig snapped behind them, and his muted state wrenched instantly to hypervigilance. Havi lurched to his feet, standing over Tenara like a provoked wolf guarding a pup. He snapped his neck around to scan the perfectly harmless shrubs beside the house. The forest had returned to its normal chorus of insects and birdcalls. The danger was over.

"Injuries?" he whirled on her, gold eyes boring into her skin. He felt breathless, like the air wouldn't quite fill his lungs.

Tenara collected herself from the half-fallen over stance she’s gone into when he’d drawn away and then rose.

She lifted her gaze to him, and then lowered her eyes. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. But he definitely did not enjoy her touch.

She pressed her hands over herself. She wasn’t hurt, surprisingly.

“I’m fine,” she said, collecting her legs under her and then rising slowly. “I… I’m going to wash the blood off in the lake…”