Page 125 of Rising Out of the Darkness
Helena began sobbing unintelligible words as she scooped her little ones up into her arms and rocked them back and forth.
I helped Clara back onto her feet as Nayla tilted a waterskin into her mouth. Once the color came back to her cheeks, we bid Helena goodbye, because there were still three more houses we had to visit tonight.
Helena rushed over to her small kitchen and gathered a bouquet of lavender. After embracing Clara in a long hug, and taking more vials of elixir for the children, she gave Clara the bouquet. “I know it’s not much, my lady.”
Clara placed her hand on Helena’s shoulder. “It is the most special gift I’ve ever received, and I will cherish your kindness forever.”
Tears welled in my eyes as we made our way out the door.
After four more houses, my eyes were swollen and Clara’s bouquet had gotten larger.
“Time to head back, ladies,” Nayla whispered, and we all placed our hoods back over our heads.
The mud sloshed between our boots as we walked. Clara’s shoulder bumped against mine, and she grasped my hand. “Thank you for convincing me to come tonight. I’ve never felt more alive or more useful in my entire life. Thank you, Lena.” Her voice trembled as she spoke.
Emotion swelled in my throat, blocking the words trying to escape, so I simply squeezed her palm in response.
Trying to change the subject so that we all didn’t have swollen eyes in the morning, Nayla began questioning me about my nightly routine in the castle. “Elena, you can’t keep sneaking out late at night to practice. It’s dangerous.”
“I know, I just needed some extra practice, and some time to think.”
She sighed heavily. “Alastor has become increasingly suspicious in the past few days. Yesterday, he nearly firedeveryone who so much as glanced at him the wrong way. Something has him agitated, and the last time he was this troubled…well, you know what happened.”
Indeed. He put a deadly curse on Declan.
Clara murmured besides me, “You need to stay safe, Lena. Will you promise us?”
They both set their gazes on me, pausing for my answer while our feet sank into the mud.
“Yes, I promise.”
Smiles began to grow on their lips, until we heard the snap of a branch beside us.
Nayla’s hand shot up and she placed a finger over her mouth. More rustles erupted in the darkness, as well as an eerily dark laugh. My muscles tightened as I clutched my dagger.
One by one, black hooded figures in masks circled around us. Nightshades. Tremors shook my body, the memory of the last time I’d seen them flashing through my mind.
Gripping the dagger tighter, I fought against the encroaching fear threatening to freeze me in place just like before. I would not freeze. Whatever came our way, I would fight my fear. No more lives would be lost because of it.
Nayla caught my panicked gaze. “Let’s fight our way out of this, ladies.”
With a quick nod, the three of us unleashed pure fury.
Bent roots ripped from the ground, wrapped around two of the men and brought them crashing down. Nayla smiled wickedly as she chased them, eager to finish the job.
As I fought off more of them with gusts of wind from my Tempest abilities, I watched with wide eyes as Clara launched icicles towards the men circling her. I’d never seen her use any other dynamis besides her Healing. She was a fury, lashing shard after shard of ice into the flesh of the Nightshades.
A smirk grew across my cheeks, until it was slapped from my face from the man who had invaded my defenses. Disoriented, I blinked to regain focus as I covered the sting with my hand.
He grabbed my neck and slung me back into his broad chest. The Nightshade ripped the dagger from my hand. I used all my strength to thrash against him. His hold crushed my body, and I felt the cool sting of metal as it slid against my neck.
My hair tangled around my face. My hood had shifted when the fighting began. Hot breath brushed against the side of my neck as bile burned the back of my throat.
“Hello, angel.”
My entire body went numb. My knees buckled at the sound of the voice behind me. A voice that haunted my memory and my nightmares.
He’d called my mother by the same name mere moments before he’d slit her throat.
