Page 41 of Great Falls Protector
And turns the opposite way from where we agreed he’d go.
Stopping sergeant after sergeant midstride, River asks after casualty reports, issues orders for a perimeter guard and staging areas, and swears to flog anyone who so much as thinks about staging a rash assault on the Great Hall. “This isn’t a battlefield, it’s a hostage taking.” River digs his fingers into the arm of a young officer who looks at him with skeptical eyes. “It won’t be just your life you forfeit if you rush in there. It will be the lives of the royals and innocents the Night Guard holds.”
“So you want us to do nothing?” The young man lifts his chin in defiance.
Wrapping his fingers in the officer’s uniform, River slams the man into a nearby tree. “What you do is follow my orders.” River’s icy voice has the officer’s raised arms dropping to his side. “Set up a full perimeter. Get me the plans of every single passage in the Keep. A full account of every person we think is in there. I want to know how many bloody apples they have to eat and how many chairs they have to sit on. And if it is not all in a command room for me by the time I take care of a minor matter, I would not expect you to be wearing an officer’s epaulettes again. Am I clear?”
“Trying not to die is not a minor matter, River,” I mutter under my breath as the male claps yet another shoulder and issues a fifth order about guard stations.Each man and woman River speaks with continues on with a quieter pace, as if the male’s aura of confidence infects their own.
It’s not until River personally checks that the flames no longer consume the arena and marks his own frighteningly pallid reflection in one of the keep’s mirrors that I succeed in pushing him into the library, the merry jingle of bells at utter odds with the world beyond.
“Gavriel? Arisha?” I call, relieved to see Rabbit curled up safe in a large chair, safe but for a few scratches on his arms—probably from Shade’s teeth as he dragged him out—applying himself industriously to a buttered scone. Flaming arena or not, the boy knows his priorities.
Seeing River beside me, Rabbit scrambles away into the stacks.
“Leralynn! Where have you been? Is Arisha with you?” Limping out from a row of bookshelves, Gavriel paces the library floor, limping to his own rambling cadence, his thinning brown hair sticking out in every direction. “First the arena goes up in flames, then Rabbit shows up with Shade, the latter acting so insane that Tye nearly got his throat ripped out before locking the beast in the closet. Meanwhile, Coal returns looking like death incarnate, and the two males rush off looking for you—” Gavriel stops talking, River’s presence—and my frantic arm gestures behind him—finally seeming to register. The librarian’s eyes widen. Straightening his robes with a flustered yank, he gives the commander a small bow. “Good afternoon, sir. Is there something I might help you with? I have pulled the most authoritative text we have on crisis management theory, which I’m certain would be of great help. If you’d allow me to highlight several passages of—”
“That’s quite all right.” River settles slowly into a chair while I call for Rabbit and dispatch him—scone and all—to find the other males and Arisha, who I’d expected to be here. Rubbing his face, River turns to Gavriel, the male’s gray eyes focusing with effort. “Did you say Shade was in the closet?” River shakes himself as if unsure whether it’s his brain or Gavriel’s that’s gone fuzzy. “If you could send him out, I have need of his assistance.”
As if having heard the exchange, a low growl sounds from the back of the library, followed by the sounds of a large body throwing itself against a door.
Grabbing Gavriel’s arm, I drag the man to the other side of the room from River. “Are you telling me Shade hasn’t shifted and turned the knob in all this time?”
“Yes.” Gavriel straightens his glasses. “And I would highly encourage you to keep him in there until he does.”
“I don’t have time to wait on Shade’s pleasure, Gavriel.” Somehow, despite the small army of immortals now holding half the continent’s royals hostage, we’ve not one buttwoother disasters trumping the main problem. Stalking toward the growling closet, I take a breath to steady my fraying nerves and pull open the door to two hundred pounds of irritated gray wolf.
Shade’s paws land on my shoulders with enough force that I stumble into the bookshelf behind me, Gavriel gasping as precious volumes cascade to the floor. I’ve barely recovered when the wolf pokes his nose into my midsection, apparently sniffing for injury, before turning away to growl at the newly made mess, lest the ancient tomes get it into their pages to assault us.
Beyond the tall windows on the other side of the library, the courtyard swarms with guards and messengers, the news of the Great Hall attack spreading throughout the already singed Academy. Seeing Tye’s mop of red hair rising above the crowd and moving toward us, I let myself savor one stunning moment of relief before returning to the monster at hand.One quint mate safe. Three to go.
“Shade.” Leaning down to bring my face level with the wolf’s, I look into the predator’s golden eyes. I don’t have time to worry about what River will think of this.Hedoesn’t have time. “Shift. Now. River is hurt, and he needs your help.” I bite my lip, a small fact I’d forgotten coming to sting me. Despite the return of our magic, Shade’s fae form will still be under the amulet’s veil, the healer unwitting to his own power.
I draw breath.Shade is Shade.He’ll work something out. He has to. Because we are out of options. Just as soon as he shifts.
The wolf blinks at me with incomprehension and circles my legs like a land-born shark.
I wait, giving Shade a chance to process my words. To smell the pain and blood saturating River’s scent. To feel that gnawing sensation deep in his soul that warns of a quint mate in peril.
Nothing.
Grabbing Shade’s muzzle, I force his attention to where River sits in a chair, his hands braced on his knees as if it’s all he can do to keep himself upright. Sweat trickles along the strong angle of River’s jaw, the veins on his neck thick and pulsing as he watches me in utter confusion. His skin looks gray and clammy, his breathing increasingly labored. If he’s alarmed at hearing me call a huge wolf “Shade,” then it’s buried under a haze of pain. Everything inside me longs to go to him, but I know it isn’t me who River needs. “Shade, please.Please.”
Shade’s gaze finally flickers at River with lupine boredom. Pulling his head out of my grip, he stretches his back, sticking his bushy gray tail high into the air, and…and circles a spot on the carpet before settling down beside me with a contented sigh.
No.No no no.My breath catches. “Shade? Shade!”
“You renamed your dog Shade?” River asks, his words slurring slightly. “That’s…” He stops, staring toward the library’s courtyard-facing window, as if watching people bustle past is suddenly the most important job in the world.
“River?” I ask.
No response, though the male’s hands tighten to a white-knuckled grip on the edge of a nearby table. When I repeat his name, River turns his beautiful pain-filled face toward me slowly, his skin ashen as the fog.
“Leralynn, I—” His voice drains away as he sways in his chair, losing his fight for consciousness in midsentence, and slides to the ground.
13
Lera
