Page 50 of Promise of Darkness
He staggers forward, his legs threatening to go out from beneath him. "We're not going... to be able... to outrun them."
I know.“We just have to make it to the Hallow.”
He collapses in a snowdrift, and I go to my knees beside him. The first flash of a shadow winds through the trees beside me. My head swivels but it’s gone again. A scout. And I have no fucking idea where my bow and arrows went.
“Get up.”
“Can’t,” he gasps, one hand clasped to his bloodied ribs.
“Yes, you can.” I haul him upright through sheer willpower, but he’s listing so badly I know I’m not going to be able to carry him. Why does the bastard have to be so big and heavy? “Are you trying to tell me the Prince of Evernight is going to meet his end here? In the belly of a bane? You’d prefer to be shit out all through these forests?”
His lip curls in a snarl, and he takes a limping step forward. The weight nearly drives me to my knees.
“Why couldn’t you be a scrawny half-formed bastard?”
“Because… you like… to stare at my muscles.”
There’s another flash to the right of me.Keep going.We just have to keep going. “In your dreams, Prince.”
“Think it’s mostly… your dreams, isn’t it?”
If he’s flirting with me, then he isn’t halfway dead. We have a chance.
And then that chance evaporates like the dreams he speaks of. The first bane slinks through the trees in front of us, cutting off our escape route. Another flickers through the trees to flank us, and a low chorus of howls seems to echo from every point around us. We stagger to a halt.
Thiago tries to straighten. "Stay behind me."
"What are you going to do? Bleed on them?"
There’s a startled glimpse of green eyes. A low growl echoes behind us. Shadows weave through the trees, barely visible through the softly falling snow. All I can see is the sheer size of the creatures, the slavering menace in their faces….
A high-pitched howl rises. Another lifts its shaggy head, a chilling sound reverberating through its throat.
So, this is it...
This is where it all ends.
I have no more illusions. I can count. Six banes, when two would be a handful even if the pair of us were in any condition to fight.
"Do you trust me, Vi?" Thiago whispers, collapsing to his knees in the snow.
This time I let him fall, trying to draw my sword with blistered, half-frozen fingers.
What sort of question is that?
An ancient hardness cuts over his face as he sees my expression, his eyes turning pure black. "Don't answer that," he says with a soft, bitter laugh before turning to the banes.
Tendrils of shadow sweep around us, as insubstantial as mist. I freeze. The Darkness. I’ve heard of him using it. With his power, he can cut fae down from miles away, but the price is tremendous, for it’s rumored the prince cannot always control it.
And sometimes the Darkness takes a piece of his soul with it.
"Whatever you do," he whispers, "don't run. Don't move from my side. And don’t scream."
12
The banes dissolve from the tree line, stalking us in a low crouch. My breath catches, and I unconsciously step closer to Thiago, my gloved knuckles brushing against his shoulder.
"Come to me," he whispers, droplets of blood marking the pristine snow by his knees. "That's it."
