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Still nothing. A low hiss broke the hush. Lance again, circling once above the trees before vanishing.

Lysander’s body tensed behind her. Idonea’s smile vanished and her posture changed. She pricked a finger on her needle, gathering a flicker of Current in her palm.

Ahead, the path narrowed into a hollow between two crumbling hills. It was too silent.

“You feel that?” she murmured.

“Yes.” This time, his voice was low, clipped. “I feel it.”

Chapter 11

Asharp crack split the air, wood snapping, echoing through the trees.

The gelding reared, nostrils flaring. Idonea’s stomach lurched as the world tilted backwards. Lysander’s left arm cinched tighter around her waist, anchoring her as his right hand fought the reins. The horse bucked once before Lysander’s low murmur cut through the chaos.

“Easy. Easy.”

The animal trembled but stilled, breath steaming in the cold air.

Shadows spilled out of the hollow. Hooded figures fanned across the path, steel glinting in their hands.

Lysander drove his heel into the gelding’s flank. “Hold on.”

The horse surged forward, muscles bunching under them as they tore down the narrow path. Idonea gripped the saddle horn, fingers burning against the slick leather. Current flared around her.

An attacker lunged from the left, dagger raised.

A shadow dropped from above. Lance struck like a spear. Bone cracked, ribs shattering outward as the man collapsed, lifeless before he hit the ground. Blood sprayed in a fine mist across Idonea’s arm, warm against the cold.

Another emerged ahead, bowstring drawn.

“Down!” Lysander pulled her against him. His body folded over hers as the arrow passed, close enough to graze her cheek.

The horse thundered between the attackers. Lysander drew his sword.

As they passed the archer, Lysander's sword flashed once. Blood sprayed hot across the path. The body fell apart before Idonea fully understood what she'd seen.

The sound of pursuit faded behind them.

Idonea’s breath came in ragged bursts. Lysander’s jaw was tight, eyes fixed ahead.

He hadn’t slowed.

“Lysander—”

She had to tell him what she’d spied upon their foreheads, what they’d tried to hide beneath their hoods: a sigil scarred into flesh. Daemon marked. Their souls sold. She’d only heard the stories, never thinking she’d encounter a person desperate enough for that.

“Not yet.”

His heartbeat stayed maddeningly steady against her spine. Idonea hated how much she noticed. Lance flew down to their level, his tongue flickering out, streaks of blood still coating his scales.

She had not, before this journey, expected him to fight for her. He had hated her for as long as she'd been alive to be hated. Twice now he'd killed for her without being asked. She didn't know when he'd decided. She didn't know whether to thank him for it or be afraid of what it meant.

Lysander guided the horse up a narrow trail leading towards the ridge, pulling the reins, bringing the gelding to a stop.

The silence that followed was sharp. Lance circled once overhead.

Lysander wiped the blade clean, eyes never leaving the tree line. “They were waiting for us. For you.”