Holt spun suddenly to pin us with a look that communicated everything between the steps of his skeletal horse. “Fuck,” Caldris grunted, leaning into me slightly. He swung his leg over Azra’s rear, dismounting to stand beside him as he patted the top of Fenrir’s head. “Cwn Annwn, hunt,” he said, and the three white wolves disappeared into the woods at our sides. We waited in silence as time seemed to slow, the howling of the wolves echoing through the forest as Holt turned back in the direction he’d been traveling.
The first arrow came from the right, thudding into the side of Holt’s steed. The horse turned its head to look down at the arrow protruding from its ribs, shaking its head and stomping a hoof in fury. Aramis took the lead, pushing his mount onward as Holt dropped back to join with the rest of the Wild Hunt to surround the carts.
Aramis shouted as his horse whinnied, and I watched as a person emerged from the branches in the top of one of the pine trees. “Look out!” I yelled, drawing the eye of the lurking figure. His blade shone in the sun, casting a glare as he sawed through a rope disguised along one of the branches.
On the other side of the path, the reflection of the sun gleaming off a dagger mirrored the same image. “Get them out of there!” Caldris ordered the rider of the Wild Hunt just ahead of us. The male nodded, moving his mount forward to catch up with the one pulling the cart.
He was just in the center of the copse of trees when pine needles rained from above, a cloth barrier parting until red dust gleamed in the sunshine as it fell on top of them. I would never in my life forget the screams as the powder burned into their flesh, or forget the way they huddled beneath their cloaks to protect their bodies.
I watched in horror as the cloth fell down bit by bit, men sawing through the ropes until it came close to us. In a ripple, the sky above seemed to open as they peeled back the fabric they’d painted to mimic the trees.
Caldris’s stunned gaze found mine for a moment and then he moved in a blur. Snatching me off the horse, he pulled me down so abruptly that Azra reared and knocked me back. Fury swept over me alongside my fear, driving my senses higher as I prepared for the impact. Staring up at the sky, falling backward with my hands shackled in front of me, I watched the iron dust rain from overhead.
Blackness fluttered at the edges of my vision as I landed on top of Caldris, his body breaking the fall from the horse. He rolled me beneath him and yanked the cloak off his shoulders, covering my body with the fabric and himself as I fought to catch my breath, his pained grunts resounding between us.
My ears rang as the darkness of the cloak surrounded me, keeping me pinned to the ground as I waited for any sign that the iron dust had dissipated. I felt it surrounding me, draining the power from my Viniculum and leaving me without that strange buzzing in my blood that usually came alongside threat of danger. The power that wanted to defend me was gone, stolen from me as the breath in my lungs.
“Fenrir!” Caldris called, finally shoving his body off of mine. He swept the cloak off of my shoulders, helping me to sit up. Glancing around myself, I took in the iron dust covering everything and glanced down to where Caldris’s hands were burned. His flesh had turned an angry, mottled red, blisters appearing on his skin where the dust had seared through his flesh.
“Caelum,” I whispered, staring at him in shock.
I longed to touch the injuries, to feel for myself the sacrifice he’d paid in burning flesh. I needed him to be the monster, the villain who would take and take from me, but there was no denying his willingness to give pieces of himself for my protection.
Leaving the cloak he’d sacrificed on the ground between us, he stood from where he’d knelt in front of me, his eyes roaming over my face and body to search for injury. “Are you hurt?” he asked, taking the key to my shackles from his trouser pocket. He unlocked them, carefully avoiding touching my skin with his ruined, charred hands.
“You know I’m not,” I said, swallowing down the tightness in my throat and the surge of emotion within me. I couldn’t feel these things—not when we were still enemies.
He nodded, expelling a sigh of relief before he turned back to the looming battle just outside of our bubble. “Guard her, cwn annwn,” he said as the wolves approached. The term must have been a name he used for the group of them, and curiosity burned through me.
Now was not the time for questions.
He glanced toward the wolves as they surrounded me, their fangs and jowls red and dripping with blood. In front of us, the hounds of the Wild Hunt did the same with the carts full of Fae Marked. As my guardians snarled and snapped at the air around them, I sat in the circle they formed. Caldris stepped forward with fluid, animalistic grace. His army of the dead lay upon the ground, their corpses unanimated once more as the tang of iron filled my lungs.
Caldris pulled his swords from the sheaths strapped across his back, the base of his neck gleaming and dripping blood from where the iron had touched his skin. He strode forward into the edge of the trees, disappearing from view as a scream tore through the air.
A body fell from the trees, already dead by the time it landed. The Mist Guard stared up at the sky with blank, unseeing eyes in a slashed face.
“I think they pissed him off,” I whispered, reaching down to pet one of the wolves. I rolled my wrists, flexing them in this moment of freedom. I knew he intended for me to be able to defend myself should the fight reach me, but the least he could have done was given me a blade.
Asshole.
The female of the wolves turned her ruby eyes up to me, her mouth, ears, and eyes all tainted with the color of death. The low growl she gave beneath her breath settled through me, feeling like an extension of the bond I shared with Caldris.
Shouts rang out from the woods as he finally appeared, his clothing and armor bathed in blood. The Wild Hunt fought with the Guard members emerging from the other side, and still the corpses remained on the ground. The skeletons didn’t move, and I knew it had to be the iron surrounding us and buried in his skin that rendered Caldris’s controlling magic useless.
Even the bond between us felt distant, as if I couldn’t just reach down and pull on the strand of Fate that tied us together.
Glancing toward the tree line opposite of where Caldris fought, I watched Holt cut through man after man, taking them down with the sort of lethal grace I’d always imagined the Fae would have. He fought as if he’d been trained alongside Caldris, the two of them moving in sync even though they weren’t anywhere near one another.
A member of the Mist Guard stabbed one of the riders, breaking through the barrier they’d formed. Others followed, their sheer numbers proving to be a challenge to the Wild Hunt as they were weakened by the iron.
Fenrir bared his teeth at the Guard who came closest to me, the fiercest growl I’d ever heard coming from his chest as Caldris snapped his head toward us. Our eyes connected for a breath, his attention unwavering as he dropped his sword and pulled his axe from the sheath. He swung it in an arc, embedding it in the face of the Guard who’d dared to challenge him. The man froze in place, the center of his face disappearing entirely as Caldris’s axe collided with it and bit deep. Raising a foot and pushing on the other man’s chest, Caldris tore the axe free with a splash of blood as the body fell to the ground in front of him.