Page 47 of Tusk Love

“You should have taken the deal,” Selene called out to Oskar, right before she and her cohorts descended on him and Guinevere.

Guinevere couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment Oskar wrenched the dagger from his shoulder, or when his sword blocked the enemy’sfirst strike. Everything was a blur. He had switched his weapon to his left hand while the injured right arm reached back, guiding her with every movement he made so that she was always shielded by his body even as he slipped them through every break in the mercenary ranks.

But Guinevere was surprised to find that she didn’tneedto be guided. Years of dance lessons came rushing to the forefront. No one could escape more than a decade of waltzes and tangos and quadrilles without developing impeccable timing and a sense of rhythm. What had been the blur of battle soon began to take on a certain logic, and her footwork synchronized perfectly with his, stepping parallel to where he stepped, turning when he turned. He’d told her to ensure that she stayed behind him, and so she did. The back-and-forth of attacks and countermeasures was her rhythm. The slam of steel against steel was her beat. Whirling around her were the katari’s claws and the dragonblood’s morning-star flail and the uniya’s multitude of daggers, but as long as she kept time with Oskar, she would be all right. He was her dance partner, and he would keep her safe. She would follow his lead until the ends of the earth.

They couldn’t keep it up forever, though. It was still three against one. Oskar began to falter in the face of the relentless assaults from all sides, his blocks clumsier, his swings far too wide.

Where was Teinidh?

For the first time in her life, Guinevere wished that the wildfire spirit would manifest. She wished it with every inch of her body. She couldfeelit, the flames within her, fanned by terror. But they could never seem to hit critical mass, the point of breaking free. There was something holding her back, and she couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out what it was. Teinidh wailed and gnashed against the walls of her prison, and the seconds hurtled agonizingly by…

And the katari’s great paw swiped across Oskar’s ribs, sharp claws cutting through fabric and through skin. In doing so, however, the feline humanoid had left a flank wide open, and Oskar wasted no time in lunging forward, driving the dwarven-made sword into his opponent’s furred stomach.

Blood wenteverywhere.Some of it spattered on Guinevere’s face. Itwas worse than the ashes. The katari staggered back and fell and then moved no more, his sightless eyes clouding over. Enraged, the two surviving mercenaries fell upon Oskar with a vengeance. He resorted to dodging and darting out of reach rather than fighting back. Guinevere kept pace with him, and they led the enemy in a frantic circle through the woods. She wondered why Selene was no longer throwing her daggers and why Bharash had yet to use his breath attack, then realization hit her like a flare of lightning—the mercenaries wanted her in addition to the trunk. That first dagger had been flung at Guinevere because the uniya knew that Oskar would block it and fail to guard against the second.

But, when it came right down to it, the mercenaries needed heralive.

Bharash and Selene cornered Oskar and Guinevere up against a tree trunk. Their weapons went slicing through the air toward Oskar at the same time. There was no opportunity to second-guess, to hesitate. Guinevere ran out from behind Oskar and placed herself in front of him, shaking, tears of fright welling up in her eyes.

I’m going to die, I’m going to die—

The mercenaries snatched their arms back suddenly. Both the dagger and the morning star veered away merecentimetersbefore they would have collided with Guinevere.

Everyone froze.

“Why are youcrying?” Bharash asked Guinevere. In spite of the confusion evident in his tone, his deep voice still boomed like thunder.

Guinevere wasn’t just crying; she wasbawling.Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, and sobs wracked her frame. She was so,soscared, and the weapons had nearlyhither, but she had to save Oskar.

“She does that a lot,” Oskar told the dragonblood. Right before he pulled her close and whispered “run” in her ear, and shoved her with all his might.

Into the bushes. Away from the field of combat.

Steel rang against steel once more, but Guinevere only heard it. She’d started running, and there was no time to look back. Shethought about Clan Bonecrusher and their vast array of clubs and axes. She had to find the campsite, she had to get help—

She’d barely gone a couple of feet before she tripped over a figure lurking in the undergrowth. Namely, the purple gnome who was in league with the mercenaries.

He was covered in bandages from when Vindicator had trampled him several days ago. He’d been blending in with the bushes, casting his magic with stiffly held arms and broken fingers. Guinevere crashed into him and the spell broke, air warping, colors flashing, rocks and trees rearranging themselves until the path between the campsite and the stream became recognizable and the normal sounds of the forest rushed back in.

“There they are!” someone yelled. It sounded like Rodregg.

And the ground was shaking, and a collective, guttural battle cry was rending the heavens, and the woods were bristling with clubs and axes as the Bonecrushers charged. They raced past Guinevere and swarmed Bharash and Selene from all sides.

The purple gnome shot Guinevere a look of pure venom. He creakily waved his bandaged arms, preparing to cast a spell. She could only stare at him, reeling, not knowing what to do.

Teinidh,she begged.

In the darkness of her heart, embers glowed. A crown of fire rippled and turned, and eyes like craters looked at her, hollow and resigned.

Thin, ghostly shackles were wrapped around Teinidh’s molten form, chaining her to this place that was not a place.

When we were younger, I could go off at the slightest provocation.Teinidh sounded shivery and far-off, like a dying candle.But spending time in this world means growing attached to things. A nice house. A parent’s love. The open road. The shape of someone’s smile.

I don’t have time for this!Guinevere snapped.We have to help Oskar!

How, when you’re afraid that we’ll hurt him?Shackles spun around flame. Guinevere could only watch, because here it was, at last, laid bare. Finally, she knew. Finally, she understood why.You’re afraid that he’ll burn along with the rest. You’re afraid of losing him. That fear eclipses everything else.

In the material realm, the realm of clashing blades and blood-soaked grass, the purple gnome held up a palm, his eyes locked on to Guinevere. Magic crackled at his fingertips, and—

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