“Normally, yes,” Kiandra, the Brindle’s head witch, replied. She stood near Mirri and Zaira, Ilianna’s mom, her gaze bright and all too knowing in the shadowed room. “But given the events of the last few days, I have woven specific exceptions into our barriers.”
“Thanks.” We were going to need them. I swallowed, then stepped toward Azriel.
“Call me,” Ilianna said. “Let me know you’re okay.”
I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. Azriel’s energy had already ripped through us, swiftly transporting us across the fields. We reappeared in the blackened ruins of the home I’d once shared with Ilianna and Tao—although to call them ruins was something of a misnomer. “Ruins” implied there was some form of basic structure left. There was nothing here. No walls, no ceiling, not even a basement. Just a big black hole that had once held a building we’d all loved.
I stepped away from Azriel and glanced up. The sky was filled with stars, and I wondered w
hether an entire day had passed us by. So much had happened over the past few days that I’d lost track.
Time appeared. The familiar, somewhat harsh tone that ran through my thoughts was heavy with displeasure. Alone should not be.
Sorry. I felt vaguely absurd for even issuing an apology. I mean, when it was all said and done, Amaya was a sword. But somewhere in the past few days, she had become more a friend than merely a means of protection.
I picked my way through the rubble and found her half-wedged into the blackened soil. I pulled her free and definitely felt a whole lot safer. Though it wasn’t as if Amaya or Azriel—or anyone else, for that damn matter—could save me if the Raziq really had decided enough was enough.
“The Raziq have split,” Azriel commented.
Confusion—and a deepening sense of dread—ran through me. “Meaning what?”
The ferocity that roiled through the connection between us gave his blue eyes an icy edge. “Half of them chase us here. The rest continue toward the Brindle.”
“Oh fuck!”
“They plan to demonstrate the cost of misdirection, and there is nothing we can do to prevent it.” His expression hardened, and I hadn’t thought that was possible. “And before you say it, I will not let you endanger yourself for them.”
“And I will not stand here and let others pay the price for decisions I’ve made!”
“We have no other choice—”
“There’s always a fucking choice, Azriel. Standing here while others die in my place is not one of them.”
“Making a stand at the Brindle will not alter the fate of the Brindle.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” I thrust a hand through my hair and began to pace. There had to be an answer. Had to be some way to protect the Brindle and everyone within her without either Azriel or me having to make a stand. Damn it, if only Ilianna had had the time to create more protection stones . . . The thought stuttered to a halt. “Oh my god, the protection stones.”
Azriel frowned. “They are still active. I can feel their presence.”
“Exactly!” I swung around to face him. “You need to get them to the Brindle. It’s the only chance they have against the Raziq.”
“I will not—”
“For god’s sake, stop arguing and just do as I ask!”
He crossed his arms and glared at me. His expression was so fierce my insides quaked, even though I knew he would never, ever hurt me.
“My task is to protect you. No one else. You. I cannot and will not leave you unprotected, especially not now.”
Not when there is life and love yet to be explored between us. Not when you carry our child. The words spun through my thoughts, as fierce as his expression and yet filled with such passion that my heart damn near melted. I walked back to him and touched his arm. His skin twitched, but the muscles underneath were like steel. My warrior was ready for battle.
“I know it goes against every instinct, Azriel, but I couldn’t live with myself if anyone at the Brindle died because of me.”
“And I would not want to live without you. There is nowhere that is safe from the wrath of the Raziq.”
“Maybe not—” I hesitated, suddenly remembering what he’d said about the Aedh temples and the remnants of the priests who still haunted that place. They weren’t ghosts, as such—more echoes of the beings they’d once been—but they were nevertheless damn dangerous. I’d briefly encountered one of them when I’d been chasing the sorceress to hell’s gate, and it had left me in no doubt that he could destroy me without a second’s hesitation.
“That is not a true option,” Azriel said, obviously following my thoughts. “And there is certainly no guarantee that the priests will even acknowledge you again, let alone provide any sort of assistance.”