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A shock of pain tore through Idonea’s wounded side, and her vision flickered at the edges. Their limbs tangled, blades scraping floorboards. For a heartbeat Elzhbeta was underneath her.

But Elzhbeta shoved Idonea aside.

Idonea rolled, barely catching herself on shaking palms. Elzhbeta rose cleanly, blade lifted, expression carved from ice.

“That relic is dangerous,” Idonea said, hoping to appeal to the woman’s better nature. “Tell me where it is.”

“It is right where it needs to be.”

Idonea stumbled into the nearby table, her hands resting over a chair. “Do not be a fool.”

Elzhbeta shook her head and raised her blade again.

Idonea swung the chair, catching Elzhbeta in the chest. Idonea darted past, lunging for the door, ribs screaming, blood soaking into her clothes.

But Elzhbeta was already turning, impossibly fast.

Pain flared in Idonea’s ribs as Elzhbeta’s dagger bit again. She cried out, staggering, knees nearly buckling. Heat and wetness spilled between her fingers.

She couldn’t win this. She couldn’t kill Elzhbeta. She needed her alive, needed her knowledge. Idonea needed to survive, to think, to buy time, to have someone hear.

Elzhbeta stepped smoothly between her and the door.

Idonea lunged forward, shoulder first, using all her remaining strength to shove her against the door. The impact rattled her bones.

The bang of the bar being shifted rang towards her. She let out a huff of a laugh, blood dribbling from her lips.

Elzhbeta’s eyes widened, going from Idonea to the door. She dashed past, but Idonea was too slow to grab at her.

Idonea’s strength faded, falling to her knees. She watched as Elzhbeta deftly opened the hatch and disappeared down through it.

The door swung open, a scream pierced her ears.

Kitsa ran into the cottage. She slammed down to her knees and ran her hands all over Idonea’s body, cataloguing the many wounds.

“Don’t try to talk,” Kitsa said, her hands shaking.

Distant shouts and footfalls over snow reached her faintly.

“I’m fine,” she choked out, the copper tang of blood sitting on her tongue. She leaned her head back down against the ground.

“Idonea?” The voice belonged to Alcaeus. Idonea closed her eyes.

Kitsa cupped Idonea’s face. “Stay awake.” Tears blurred her dark lashes.

“We need to heal her,” Alcaeus said. “Now.”

Idonea whimpered at the very thought of being moved. Pain radiated from her ribs, her side, her lungs. Darkness edged her vision, curling inward like smoke.

Strong arms lifted her from the ground. For a fleeting instant, confusion, and longing tangled through her fading thoughts.

I want it to be Lysander…

Cold air stung her skin. Snow bit against her legs.

They hadn’t carried her far outside, just enough space. Darkness pressed in, swallowing the edges of the world.

Templar boots crowded in her space.