Page 34 of The Awakening of Essensia

She reined in sharply. “There’s someone—”

“Stay mounted,” Eli said, his voice hard, but she was already swinging her leg over the saddle. Millie shifted beneath her.

“Vaelira, don’t—” Jurah barked, but she ignored him. The woman needed help.

As soon as her boots hit the earth, something slammed into her from behind. Strong arms clamped around her middle, dragging her backwards and digging her bow painfully into her lower back. She kicked, twisting for her dagger, Jon’s dagger, but the blade was wrenched from its sheath before she had the chance.

“Easy, sweetheart,” a deep voice drawled near her ear. “You’ve got fast hands. But I’m faster.”

She stilled, heart pounding as the scent of sage and blackberries encompassed her. She looked for the woman, but she was gone.

“Purses,” the man said, his tone mild. “Now.”

Eli’s entire body had gone rigid, his eyes locked on the man. On the Wasteland raider, she realised. So much for their big swords.

Heat rose to her cheeks as she realised how reckless she had been. How naïve.

Jurah’s hand twitched but dropped as the raider pressed something hard against her ribs, right where her stitches had been. Nausea rose in her throat.

The man chuckled. “Fine. I’ll even let you keep your pretty little weapons.” His voice turned mocking. “Wouldn’t want you stuck out here defenceless, would we?”

Vaelira’s looked up. The sky was beginning to darken. A shiver ran through her at the thought of what would come for them if they weren’t out of here soon.

“Smart folk know better than to linger in the trees after dark,” the raider continued, as if having read her mind. “Purses. Now.”

His hand splayed across her stomach as he pulled her tighter, pressing the flat side of the blade harder into her side. Her heart slammed against her ribs, raging to be free of the feeble body that was so easily disarmed by this man.

Elijah threw his down first, and Jurah followed. Coins clinked heavily as they hit the ground. A woman darted forward and snatched up the purses before disappearing once more.

Fool. She had been a damned fool.

Vaelira turned her head just enough to glimpse the man towering over her. She didn’t know what she had expected to see. Perhaps a scarred, mutilated face, or pitch-black eyes. A visage suited to those they called demoncursed.

What she saw was none of those things.

Short hair so bright it was almost white. Golden, sun-kissed skin. A cowl covered the lower half of his face, so only his eyes were exposed. Ice-blue and breathtaking. They slid to her, and her pulse stuttered, his gaze locking her in an iron-clad grip. She’d never seen eyes so vibrant, so cold, yet filled with a warm mischief that didn’t match the threat of the blade he held to her side.

Half a breath passed, then he shoved her forward and she landed hard, the impact sending a jolt up her arms. She twisted away from him, raising her hands in defence, but he was already gone.

Boots thudded and hurried forward. Her heart hammered as she gasped down lungsful of air, sharp pain lancing through her chest.

No, not now. Not now.

Strong arms lifted her, broad hands resting on her shoulders. Dark eyes. A sharp jaw. A curved nose.

Eli’s voice was muffled over the pounding in her ears. “Breathe,” he said. “Just breathe, Vaelira.”

She closed her eyes and sucked in a long breath. Leather and pine, and something she didn’t recognise.

“We have to move,” said Jurah. “Now, Elijah.”

He helped her to Millie, offering clasped palms to lift her into the saddle. She clenched her eyes shut and took another deep breath. Now wasn’t the time. She couldn’t afford to break.

She gripped the pommel of her sword, the familiar shape a comfort in her palm. Then she patted the sheath at her hip.

Empty.

The raider had stolen her dagger, and with it, the last piece of her brother.