Page 142 of Of Iron and Moonlight

She felt it as if it were her own torn flesh. A broken, barely human sound escaped her as she closed the remaining distance, heedless of everything else. Needing to protect him.

Njall seized the wolf’s jaws in both hands.

The beast thrashed, claws tearing across his chest.

He roared again. Deeper. A buried fury surging to the surface. With terrible strength he forced the maw wider.

Bone gave with a sickening crack.

The wolf went limp.

Njall hurled the body aside and stood there breathing hard, violet eyes wide and unfocused. Blood streaked his arms. Dark violet from his own wounds. Black from the beast.

He sank to his knees, hands hanging limp at his sides.

Elara dropped before him, barely aware of the snow soaking through her clothes as she ran her hands over him, searching for damage. She nearly sobbed from relief when she saw the wounds were already drawing closed, sealing with every heartbeat.

Kalaetzu approached, still wavering on his feet, and laid a hand on Njall’s shoulder. The last torn flesh closed. “That is all I have left today,” he breathed, then turned away to gather their scattered packs half buried in snow.

Elara rested her forehead against Njall’s chest. “Thank the moons for quick fae healing.”

“If only it worked on broken hearts,” Njall said quietly, not quite to her.

“Perhaps Kalaetzu packed something for that,” Elara said, trying for a smile. It faltered almost immediately. “If not, I will invent it.”

Njall swallowed and dragged the back of his hand across his brow, moving as if he couldn’t remember how to command his own limbs, before he lifted his uninjured arm and drew her against him, lowering his head until it rested gently over hers in quiet surrender.

Snow continued to fall, softening the world around them. It blanketed the wolves. Erased the frantic marks of the fight. Blurred the last of Selenar Castle until it vanished.

Somewhere in that white hush, beneath the dark rise of the Niverna Mountains and the effort it took to resist pressing her lips to Njall’s wounded shoulder, Elara realized she was in love.

Chapter 67

Duncan

“They discovered we meant the full attack on Tarnholt.” Brannoc paused as laughter caught in his chest. He wheezed through it, “So they pulled their forces from Crenn entirely.” He bent forward, barking another laugh. “We took both Tarnholt and Crenn in the same day, without meaning to. Wooden-headed bastards. I still can’t believe it.”

“Yes, quite fortunate,” Duncan agreed. After months of brutal fighting, he felt the shift at last. Kryovarre’s momentum had broken. “Now, let’s return to the matter at hand.”

“Alewyn is Valdir’s last major stronghold,” Brannoc boomed, slamming his fist onto the Grayhollyn command table. “We’ll have all of Ardennesse back within a fortnight, you’ll see.”

“Assuming this rain ever stops,” Cairon muttered, wiping droplets from his brow.

“It will,” Rensaya grunted from her corner. “When the first snows start.”

“No complaints from me.” Merrick lounged on a bench against the far wall, one arm draped over his head. He shot Duncan a sly smile. “My men have been threatening to melt.”

“The rain is a problem.” Duncan exhaled. “I’m due in Vaelstrom in three days.”

“The ride takes five,” Garric reminded him.

“I know.” Duncan braced both hands on the table. “I’ll have to ride through the night.”

“Go on,” Brannoc said, leaning back with folded arms. “Enjoy your feasts and entertainments while we rot here with real work.”

Osric did not look up from his notes. “If you spent half the time on logistics that you spend complaining, Bran, my ledgers would be lighter and your waistline slimmer.”

Brannoc scowled. “Say that again and you’ll be eating your quill.”