The sound of laughter slithers through the trees—low, taunting.

  Rael pushes to his feet with a wince, unsheathing his sword in one fluid motion. The metal gleams, its edge catching the orange glow. Without a word, he tosses something toward me. It lands with a soft thud in the frost-laced grass—a dagger. The glint of its blade sends a fresh wave of fear through me.

  "Take the horse and run," he orders. "Do not stop. Do not look back."

  He strides forward, his focus pinned on the shadows beyond the fire. My heart pounds. I should move, crawl away—but I can't. Fear roots me to the ground as a figure emerges in the darkness. Hooded, the dull flash of a weapon catching in the dim light.

  His voice rasps through the air, sinister, like brittle leaves crushed underfoot. "The woods grow hungry at night. And so do I."

  The stranger doesn't hesitate. Rael barely has time to raise his sword before the clash of steel shatters the quiet.

  He growls lowly, lashing out with his free hand. His fist connects with the assailant's jaw, sending the man sprawling.

  He fights with sharp, brutal efficiency. Every movement is calculated, the strength behind each blow undeniable. His sword arcs through the air, deflecting and countering, forcing the stranger back. But I notice a stiffness in his stance. The arrow still juts from his shoulder, dark blood flashing in the firelight. He grits his teeth, countering each attack, but something feels off.

  Another lunge.

  Another strike.

  Rael dodges, but his arm shakes as blood weeps from his wound.

  My gaze finds the horse, tied off on a tree across the way as it nervously stomps the ground, worrying the bit in its mouth.

  'Take the horse and run.'

  But I'm paralyzed, watching the attacker circle Rael, like a vulture. Rael parries a fierce blow, swords grinding together, letting out a metallic screech. The force drives Rael back, but he regains his footing in an instant. He twists sharply, his blade slicing through the air and nearly catching his opponent's side. But the stranger is too quick.

  I inch backward, the frosty grass crunching beneath me. My hands fumble for the dagger, its hilt cold against my trembling fingers.

  Do something.

  Rael snarls through gritted teeth, pushing through the pain. His blade flashes, cutting dangerously close, but his movements are losing precision. His breathing grows heavier.

  Do something!

  My thoughts race, scrambling for something—anything. Then I remember. The moonshade.

  I pull my coin purse from my pocket and rip it open, fingers closing around the brittle sprig. The floral scent fills my nose as I shove it into my mouth, teeth sinking into the leaves. It coats my tongue with its acrid taste, but I force myself to chew.

  Then it happens.

  A misstep. The stranger feints, slamming the hilt of his weapon into Rael's wounded shoulder. A guttural cry escapes him as he drops to one knee, the weight of his injury bearing down.

  Quickly, I spit the crushed pulp into my palm.

  The attacker steps closer.

  My fingers smear the dark paste along the blade, the substance clinging to it like ink.

  The stranger closes in on Rael. With a twisted grin, he reaches for the embedded arrow and yanks it free, blood spraying.

  Rael's strangled gasp rips through the night.

  "A bite of silver for a beast of shadow," the attacker sneers, holding the bloodied arrow aloft like a prize as he spins it between his fingers. "What hope does a monster have when such metal tastes its blood?" Golden eyes glint maliciously in the flickering light as they fixate on the bloodied arrow.

  Demon.

  Rael's gaze shudders, unfocused. The firelight dances against the sheen of sweat on his brow. He tries to rise, but his limbs betray him. He tries to raise his sword, but it slips and lands with a thud before him.

  "The dear knight has fallen," he coos, slamming the arrow into Rael's ribs.

  His shout rips through the forest.

  "No—" I gasp, scrambling to my feet.

  The figure looms over him, sword raising for the killing blow—

  I throw myself in front of him.

  The blade stops inches from my throat.

  Golden eyes land on me.

  My stomach knots as his grin widens, the coated blade trembling in my grip.

  Stay calm.

  "How heroic," he sneers, casting one last look at Rael behind me. "I'll be back for you."

  Before I can move, his fingers latch onto my hair and he yanks me forward.

  I thrash around as searing pain radiates through my skull.

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  Rael lets out a growl of pain, trying to rise. "Selene."

  The demon ignores him, dragging me further from Rael. "I wonder if you'll taste as sweet as you smell."

  I dig my heels into the ground, slowing the demon's attempts to drag me further. He rips at my hair harder, a jolt of pain shooting across my scalp.

  No! This cannot be it for me.

  I hear Rael's voice emerging from the fear-filled void of my thoughts.

  'Bravery is just fear with its back straight.'

  The words rattle in my brain, over and over and over again, like a war drum.

  I twist and turn, in hopes to sway his balance. And then we're toppling over, the air wooshing from my lungs at his body landing atop mine.

  Be brave, even if your hands shake.

  I readjust the dagger in my grip.

  And drive it into his ribs.

  Over.

  And over.

  And over again.

  Until warm blood coats my fingers, until the hilt of the dagger nearly slips free from my grasp and the demon leaps off of me.

  His face contorts with rage, teeth bared as he snarls. "That's not going to do anything to me." My blood turns to ice.

  He launches back onto me, swatting the dagger from my grip as I try to stab him again. I attempt to push him off, writhing beneath him in hopes to wriggle free. But he's too strong, too quick.

  Stop!

  He pins my arms at my side, and I feel his claws extending--feel them pierce into my arms. I cry out, but there's nothing I can do.

  Please, make it stop!

  His head dips, mouth opening to reveal those dreadful fangs as they near my throat.

  I am about to become the men from the ambush. Broken and bludgeoned and dead.

  Then, he freezes, his muscles tensing beneath his skin, his grip solidifying like his fingers have turned to stone. His claws press deeper and I bite back another scream.

  "What... did you do?" Confusion laces his voice.

  Hot tears spill free from my eyes. "Something brave."

  His body locks up.

  His limbs stiffen.

  Moonshade paralysis sets in.

  His features turn statuesque as my fingers fumble around, curling around the dagger's hilt once more.

  I rip my arm free from his claws, blood splattering, and flesh shredding before I slam the blade through his neck.

  "You--" Blood dribbles down from his lips and onto my face just before his body slackens.

  Somehow, I'm able to shove him off, his lifeless corpse lying beside me as his vacant golden eyes stare up at the blackened sky.

  I don't chance another glance, bile rising in my throat as I tear my other arm free and struggle to my feet, stumbling back toward Rael.

  I drop to my knees before him, catching him in my arms just as he teeters forward, his body giving out completely.

  His face is embedded in the crook of my shoulder, his breathing ragged. "You're full of surprises, princess." I can hear the smirk in his muffled tone.

  Laughter bubbles from my lips, a cacophony filling the quiet woods until it's all that I hear--until my body shudders with it.

  "Are you hurt?" I barely hear the question, but his muffled voice is enough to break the spell and my laughter dies.

  I collapse into him until the weight of our bodies pushing into one another is the only thing keeping us upright. I bury my face into his neck and embrace him tighter like he is the one thing tethering me to the present as my muscles twitch with the memory of driving a blade through flesh.

  "It's okay." He says and I swear I feel his fingers twitch closer as if trying to reach for me through his exhaustion. "You're okay."

  And then, as though a dam breaks within me, I begin to sob.

  He lets me cry for a while, only the sound of his breathing stabilizing and occasional unheard whispers accompanying me. And finally, when I feel as though I have shed every tear my body has harbored throughout our travels, he shifts his head, freeing his face from the suffocating fabric. A chill shocks me still as his lips brush against my neck. "Selene," he breathes sharply, "I know you're tired, but I need your help..." he exhales, "with my injuries."

  I pull free, my hands finding his shoulders as I straighten. His eyelids hang heavily, each blink a battle against the drowsiness attempting to pull him under. And for a moment, I ponder the assailant's statement about the silver-tipped arrow and how Rael's usual skillful precision had quickly diluted into sluggish maneuvers.

  Had that truly been what held such effect?

  I shake the thoughts free, finding a set of crimson eyes boring into mine as we sit face to face in the darkness, only the crackling fire and snort of the horse filling the silence hanging between us.

  "You're lucky I bought that Veylan root." I sniffle, taking in the sight of his wounds still bleeding. I wipe my cheeks, "let's get you fixed up."

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  A fever takes hold quickly, Rael's usually measured breathing now ragged and uneven as his chest rises and falls in shallow intervals. Sweat lingers at his temples, and though the firelight paints his skin in a golden sheen, he looks too pale.

  I cut a strip of fabric from the hem of my dress and melt frost into it before pressing it to his forehead. His eyes flutter, lips parting. "Selene..." He croaks, and I reach for the canteen at his hip, wondering how long it has been since he'd drank any.

  "Try not to talk." I mutter, dabbing away the sweat before pulling the veylan root from my pouch. I place it between his lips. "Eat this."

  He smiles weakly. "Bossy." I lift his head before placing the root on his tongue, watching his face contort from the bitter flavor.

  I swipe away some of the hair that is plastered to his forehead. "I'm trying to keep you alive."

  He hums in response, his head tipping slightly toward my touch. "I like you taking care of me."

  My fingers pause.

  He's feverish. He doesn't know what he's saying.

  "Careful," I mutter. "You're starting to sound grateful."

  His smirk is sloppy--boyish--and the image burns itself into my brain. "You're beautiful when you're bossy."

  "Rael."

  "What?" His ruby eyes are fever-bright, yet alert all the same.

  Something shifts in the air between us, something unspoken, curling and pulling taut.

  His gaze drops—to my lips, just for a second.

  A breath.

  A heartbeat.

  I look away, focusing on the fabric I've tied around his injuries, on anything but the look in his eyes. "You should rest," I whisper.

  "Mm." His head lolls to the side, facing the fire. "Can't."

  I already know why--the nightmares.

  I melt more frost into the fabric, pressing it against his burning skin.

  His fingers twitch against the cloak I draped over him, his body tensing against the pain.

  He needs a distraction.

  "Have I explained why I know so much about herbs?" I ask.

  I see the shift in his eyes—the attempt to focus, to stay present.

  "I was nine when my brother fell ill," I say softly. "No healer could figure out what was wrong with him, and nothing helped. So, I started asking questions—anyone who came to the palace, any apothecary, any scholar. I thought if I could learn enough, I could cure him." I force a small smile, though my throat constricts. "Unfortunately nothing has yet worked, and I left before I could try something new."

  Weakly, he reaches up, his fingers curling around my wrist.

  His grip is light—barely there. Just the faintest press of his fingertips against my skin.

  "You don't deserve this fate." He mumbles.

  I don't know what to say to that.

  "Stay." His fingers tighten slightly.

  I swallow hard, my pulse a frantic bird in my chest. "I'm not going anywhere."

  "Lay with me." He lifts the cloak, "you're shivering."

  I let out a slow breath, brushing more damp strands of hair from his forehead before siding up next to him beneath the heavy fabric. The fire is not enough to keep me warm and the heat radiating from him is enough to set my body ablaze before he lets the cloak drop over us once more.

  His fingers weave with mine and he gives my hand a gentle squeeze. "You were very brave tonight." I wonder if he can feel how hard my heart is beating. But as I focus on his own, I find his matching mine in equal measure.

  Soon, his fingers slacken, his breathing evening out.

  And though he is still trembling, still burning, he is letting himself rest. I tilt my head to look at him, finding his expression relaxing into something peaceful--something vulnerable.

  And that terrifies me more than anything.