Page 122 of The Stolen Kingdom

Before Valda could speak, a sharp whistle tore through the air, slicing into the fragile peace.

Maris’s breath hitched. Something streaked past her, too fast to see, but she heard it—the dullthunkof impact, followed by a gasp and a low, guttural groan of pain.

Time seemed to slow as Maris turned, her heart pounding in her ears. She watched, helplessly, as Melvian’s ration tumbled to the sand.

Then her gaze fell on the arrow lodged in the center of her best friend’s chest. For a moment, Maris couldn’t hear anything but the sound of her own blood roaring in her ears. Her scream clawed at her throat, but it was drowned out as the sky filled with hundreds of arrows, slicing through the air.

Valda yanked her down, dragging her under a wagon.

They were under attack. Again. And this time…

This time, they hurt someone dear to her.

No.

Maris’s vision blurred with tears and rage, her chest heaving with every shallow breath.

No!

“Valda, Melvian!” Maris cried out, her voice barely audible over the deafeningthwackof arrows embedding themselves into the wagon above them.

Valda’s teeth bared in a snarl, her eyes wild and unblinking, like a cornered animal. “We have to wait for them to reload if we want to move!” she barked.

Maris’s entire body trembled, her pulse pounding in her ears as she shoved Valda aside, her eyes locking on Melvian, who lay crumpled on the ground beside the wagon. A second arrow jutted from her abdomen, the blood pooling beneath her spreading too fast for Maris to process.

“Melvian…” Maris’s voice cracked as she crawled toward her best friend.

Melvian’s head tilted weakly, her wide, unfocused eyes searching for Maris as her trembling hand reached toward her.

“No, no, no,” Maris chanted under her breath, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she pressed them to the wound, desperate to staunch the bleeding. “I’ll get the arrows out. I’ll get you some water. Sealian water. Yes—yes, that’ll work…”

Her mind raced as she fumbled, her movements frantic, erratic. Sealian waterhadto work. It always worked. It didn’t matter if Melvian was Skylian. Asclepius would hear her prayers, grant her the miracle. Hehadto.

Right?

The thought clawed at her, the bitter truth seeping into her chest like poison.

No.

Her breath hitched as Melvian’s bloodied fingers clutched at her tunic, her lips quivering.

“My babies,” Melvian choked out. Her gaze darted desperately towards the wagon’s direction. “Maris, my babies.”

“They’re fine. They’re all right,” Maris lied, her voice trembling as she worked to steady her hands. She didn’t know if they were all right. She could only hope.Please let them be all right.They were with Isen and Eyphah, and she clung to that thin thread of faith.

“Take care of them, Mar—”

“Shut up!” Maris snapped through gritted teeth, her voice cracking as she cut her off. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pressed her hands firmly against the wounds, trying her hardest to avoid the arrows. “You are fine. You’re going to be fine. I just need to pull the arrows out, clean the wounds, stitch you up, and—“

A guttural roar split the air behind them, a sound so primal it made Maris’s stomach drop. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

It was Isen.

She knew he could feel it. He could feel his mate’s life slipping through her fingers.

“We have to go right now!” Valda’s voice jolted her out of her frozen state. Before Maris could react, Valda shoved her aside and scooped Melvian into her arms, cradling her as if she were the most fragile thing in the world.

The arrows lodged in Melvian’s chest and stomach shifted as Valda moved, and Maris winced at her best friend’s weak groan. “We have seconds before they attack again!”

---