Page 91 of A Curse of Breath and Blood

“When did she get so heavy?” Amolie said through panting breaths.

Gritting my teeth, I heaved her body forward. “I just hope she doesn’t wake up while we’re in this tunnel.”

Crawling relentlessly, the end nowhere in sight, panic overtook us as our strength dwindled.

“Listen,” Amolie said, pressing her hand to the roof of the passage. “It’s water. We must be near the river.”

The knot in my chest untied at the sound of rushing water. “If we can get out, we can build a simple raft for Baylis and, hopefully, get her to camp.”

“What’s left of it,” Amolie said half-heartedly.

We’d both seen the forest ablaze. The heat had radiated throughout the great hall as the Hunt battled the Blood Riders.

A new Alder King had been crowned. Half-sylph and half-elf, his power would be limitless if he could control it.

Once the great hall had emptied, Tharan invoked hisnewfound power. A formidable vine emerged from the wooden floor, coiling around him before descending back into the earth, carrying the newly crowned king with it. The Wild Hunt echoed with their eerie howls, faithfully trailing their leader into the tumultuous blaze. Amolie and I narrowly evaded the vengeance of the remaining Blood Riders.

“Can you see an exit, Aelia?”

I squinted, trying to find my way through the endless darkness.

A tinge of light became visible. “The end of the tunnel is near. Just a little further.”

Exhausted and dirty, Amolie and I pooled our strength and pushed Baylis with all our might until the river came into view.

Mud squished between our bare toes as we sank to our knees. The ground sent shivers through my body.

I lay on my back, gazing up at the canopy emitting smoldering embers. The scent of burnt wood and fresh blood drifted on the wintry breeze. The illumination I initially confused for the early dawn unveiled itself as the voracious inferno engulfing the Woodland Realm.

I pressed my ear to Baylis’s chest, confirming her continued breathing.

As children, Baylis and I often shared a bed. Even at the River House, the beds always seemed too large for us, and we invariably gravitated to Baylis’s bed on the second floor, overlooking the river through its window. I would read stories to her many nights until she drifted off to sleep. Cherished tales of ancient knights who vanquished dragons and defeated monsters, secretly yearning for a knight to rescue us. Her room transformed into our own little sanctuary. When our father fell ill, we grew up quickly, but Baylis’s room remained the one place where we could still hold onto the innocence of our childhood.

“I hope the men are alright,” Amolie said. Cries of pain echoed over the river in answer.

“If we can get down the river, we may still help them,” I said.

Amolie ripped strips from her dress, using them as ties to make a raft for Baylis, while I frantically cut reeds for Amolie to fasten together. Despite the fire, a cool wind swept through the valley, sending a chill up my spine, reminding me of the sheerness of my dress.

We loaded Baylis onto the raft, lowering our bodies into the icy water.

Amolie’s teeth chattered.

I shook uncontrollably as the cold snaked its way straight to my bones.

The river wound through several camps where courts tended to their wounded and wrapped their dead.

“Is the battle over?” I asked a sylph woman with silver hair and the eyes of a serpent, trying her best to heal a wound on a large sylph man.

“The battle is over. King Tharan and the Hunt triumphed. But we suffered many losses.”

“Do you know about the Court of Storms? Are they still standing?” Fear frayed my already frazzled nerves.

“Lord Caiden was at the front of the last line of defense. I do not know his fate.”

A skeletal hand tugged at my heart. “Thank you.” I shot Amolie a look of urgency. “We have to get back to the camp.”

Amolie nodded, and we picked up our pace, wading through the water until we reached a turnoff for the camp where the Court of Storms had been. Our muscles burned as we fought against the current.

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