Chapter 65

Third Person

The battlefield was chaos.

Ember moved like a well-oiled machine through the fray, her twin daggers flashing in the smoky air as she dispatched another rogue. Blood spattered her face, the metallic tang sharp on her tongue as she spun to deflect a clawed swipe aimed at her throat, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop.

Just before the rogue connected with her body, she dropped low, her leg sweeping out to knock the rogue off balance. Then, she plunged her dagger into its chest with one swift movement.

The beast collapsed with a guttural cry, shifting back into his human form as he went still, and Ember was already moving, her lungs burning as she searched the battlefield for any sign of the others.

But around her, the courtyard roared with the clash of steel and the howls of both Lycans and Werewolves. It was hard to see, hard to breathe, hard to hear her own thoughts. She only knew one thing: she hadn’t seen Neil in a long time.

Far too long for comfort.

“Where the hell is he?” Ember growled, slashing through another rogue as it lunged at her. Her sharp gaze darted through the chaos, searching for Castor and Eric first. She spotted them a few yards away, their backs against each other as they fought off a pack of rogues.

“Castor!” she shouted, shoving her way toward them. “Eric!”

“A little busy!” Castor bellowed, his massive blade carving through a rogue’s midsection. Blood sprayed in a red arc, and the body crumpled to the ground as he turned to face another attacker. Eric, bloodied but grinning, parried an attack with his spear, the sharp tip catching the rogue’s shoulder.

“Neil is gone!” Ember said, shoving her dagger into the throat of a rogue that came too close. “We need to find him—now!”

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Eric panted, driving his spear into the chest of another rogue before kicking it off the weapon.

“I mean he’s not here!” Ember snapped, her daggers dripping with blood as she sliced through another rogue. “Do you see him anywhere? Because I sure as hell don’t!”

Castor’s eyes narrowed. “If he’s not here, he’s probably in the castle.”

“Then we’re going to the castle,” Ember said firmly.

Eric hesitated, his eyes flicking between her and the raging battle around them. “If we leave the courtyard, it’ll leave the others exposed. Someone needs to hold the line.”

“There is no line left to hold!” Ember snapped, pointing toward the castle. “If Neil has been hurt or captured, then this battle is already lost. We need him. Now move!”

The other two guards exchanged glances, but Castor nodded. “Let’s go.”

The three of them fought their way through the courtyard, their weapons flashing in the light of the setting sun as they cut down anything in their path. Ember’s heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of adrenaline and fear driving her forward. She refused to think about what might have happened to Neil. He was alive. He had to be.

As they neared the castle gates, a deafening roar split the air, and Ember turned just in time to see a rogue in wolf form tackle Eric to the ground. The two rolled across the dirt, Eric’s spear skittering out of reach as he struggled to fend off the beast.

“Eric!” Ember shouted, lunging toward them. She drove her dagger into the rogue’s side, and it howled in pain, its claws raking across Eric’s chest before it collapsed.

Eric groaned, blood soaking his tunic as he tried to push himself up. Ember knelt beside him, her hands flying to his wounds. They were deep, too deep, and her stomach twisted at the sight of so much blood.

“You’re going to be fine,” she said, her voice shaking as she pressed her hands against his chest in a desperate attempt to staunch the bleeding. “Just hold on.”

Eric’s hand weakly grasped hers, his face pale but calm. “Go,” he rasped. “Find Neil.”

“No,” Ember said fiercely, her eyes blazing. “We’re not leaving you.”

“You have to,” Eric said, his voice barely above a whisper. “If you don’t, we’ve already lost. You said so yourself.”

“Eric.” Castor came skidding to a halt beside them and dropped to his knees with a thud, reaching out to scoop Eric into his arms. “Don’t do this.”

Eric just smiled faintly, his bloodied hand reaching up to gently still Castor’s hands. “Take care of her,” he said softly, his gaze flicking to Ember. “And don’t let Neil do anything stupid.”

Ember’s throat tightened, tears stinging her eyes as Eric’s grip on her hand weakened. “Eric, please,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

He turned his head slightly, his lips moving in a barely audible whisper. Ember leaned closer, her eyes widening up at Castor as Eric’s final words reached her ears.

And then, all too fast, he was gone.

Ember’s hand clenched into a fist, her nails digging into her palm as she stared down at Eric’s still form. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, anger and grief swirling inside of her. Eric was the most formidable fighter she knew—he’d never gotten hurt like this in battle before. Never.

But now, when she shook him, he didn’t wake up. And all it had taken was one swipe of a rogue’s claws.

“We have to move,” Castor said quietly. He reached out, his hand gripping Ember’s shoulder tightly and pulling her back to reality.

Ember nodded and set her jaw tight as she forced herself to her feet. This hadn’t been the first time she had lost a friend in battle, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. The tears could wait until later, when she was alone in bed with nothing but the shadows for company.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, her expression hardening as she turned toward the castle.

“Let’s go.”

They moved quickly, their weapons slicing through any rogue that dared to cross their path. Ember must have looked like a banshee, screaming until her throat was raw as she cut through the enemies. A few of them even turned tail and ran when they saw her coming, when they saw the fires blazing in her eyes and the blood soaking every inch of her body.

The castle’s grand doors were already hanging open, the air inside thick with smoke and the scent of blood. Ember’s heart pounded as they made their way through the dark corridors, following a scent that smelled faintly like Neil.

Eventually, the trail took them to the stairs leading down to the dungeons. The scent was even stronger here, and they paused at the top, glancing at one another.

Eric’s final words echoed in Ember’s mind as she looked at Castor, but she schooled her face into dark determination. Not now. Those feelings, too, could wait until later tonight.

Castor gave her a grim nod, and they continued their descent into the dungeons. The distant sound of voices soon reached Ember’s ears, and she slowed, pressing herself against the wall as they approached the source of the noise.

The dungeons were dimly lit, the flickering torches casting long shadows across the stone walls. A group of guards stood at the far end of the corridor, their weapons drawn as they spoke in low tones.

And there, in the center of the room, was Neil.

He was on his knees, his hands bound behind his back and his face bruised and bloodied. Prince Caleb stood over him, his smirk visible even in the dim light as he gestured animatedly with his sword. Neil’s head was bowed, but Ember could see the tension in his shoulders, the stubborn set of his jaw.

Ember didn’t need to say a word for Castor to know what her hard glare meant.

Together, they stepped into the corridor, lifting their weapons.