Page 215 of Kingdom of Ash

“LORCAN!”

A pained groan answered from behind.

Elide twisted in the saddle and scanned the path of Valg dead behind her.

A broad, tanned hand rose from beneath a thick pile of them, and fought for purchase on a soldier’s breastplate. Not twenty feet away.

A sob cracked from her, and Farasha cantered toward that straining,bloodied hand. The horse skidded to a halt, gore flying from her hooves. Elide threw herself from the saddle before scrambling toward him.

Armor and blades sliced into her, dead flesh slapping against her skin as she shoved away demon corpses, grunting at their weight. Lorcan met her halfway, that hand becoming an arm, then two—pushing off the bodies piled atop him.

Elide reached him just as he’d managed to dislodge a soldier sprawled over him.

Elide took one look at the injury to Lorcan’s middle and tried not to fall to her knees.

His blood leaked everywhere, the wound not closed—not in the way that Fae should be able to heal themselves. The injury that had felled him would have been catastrophic, if it had taken all his power to heal him this little.

But she did not say that. Did not say anything other than, “The dam is about to break.”

Black blood splattered Lorcan’s ashen face, his dark eyes fogged with pain. Elide braced her feet, swallowing her scream of pain, and gripped him under the shoulders. “We need to get you out of here.”

His breathing was a wet rasp as she tried to lift him. He might as well have been a boulder, might as well have been as immovable as the keep itself.

“Lorcan,” she begged, voice breaking. “We have to get you out of here.”

His legs shifted, drawing an agonized groan. She had never heard him so much as whimper. Had never seen him unable to rise.

“Get up,” she said. “Get up.”

Lorcan’s hands gripped her waist, and Elide couldn’t stop her cry of pain at the weight he placed on her, the bones in her foot and ankle grinding together. His legs not even kneeling beneath him, he paused.

“Do it,” she begged him. “Get up.”

But his dark eyes shifted to the horse.

Farasha approached, steps unsteady over the corpses. She did not so much as flinch as Lorcan grasped the bottom straps of the saddle, his other hand on Elide’s shoulder, and moved his legs under him again.

His breathing turned jagged. Fresh blood dribbled from his stomach, flowing over the crusted remains on his jacket and pants.

As he began to rise, Elide beheld the wound slicing up the left side of his back.

Flesh lay open—bone peeking through.

Oh gods. Oh gods.

Elide ducked further under him, until his arm was slung across her shoulders. Thighs burning, ankle shrieking, Elide pushedup.

Lorcan pulled at the same time, Farasha holding steady. He groaned again, his body teetering—

“Don’t stop,”Elide hissed.“Don’t you dare stop.”

His breath came in shallow gasps, but Lorcan got his feet under him, inch by inch. Slipping his arm from Elide’s shoulder, he lurched to grip the saddle. To cling to it.

He panted and panted, fresh blood sliding from his back, too.

This ride would be agony. But they had no choice. None at all.

“Now up.” She didn’t let him hear her terror and despair. “Get into that saddle.”

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