Page 43 of A Warrior's Fate

Lukas—that was his name.

He fought himself into a sitting position. “Who are you?”

The woman jerked, taken aback. “What?”

Lukas’s eyes trailed along the mob of onlookers, looking terribly confused before they blew wide. He pointed to the hunter and recoiled back, low on one hand and his feet. “Get away from him!”

“What? Lukas—”

“No!” Lukas, completely unaware of what it represented, all that it was, used the Gate to clamber to his feet. “He’s a monster! I watched him!” His chest heaved as he panted, struggling to stay upright. “He—he’s a wolf.”

The declaration was met by gasps. One even fell from Isla’s lips.

He didn’t remember…anything.

CHAPTER 12

Isla's breathing was too loud in her ears. Ragged and rattling in her skull in a way that made it impossible to focus, to think.

The Trainee—no, Lukas, his name was Lukas—clutched onto the Gate like his life depended on it, one arm hooked through a glyph, while the other was speared by a finger in the hunter’s direction. His accusation hung in the air, keeping everyone, including her, mute and still.

Get away from him…he’s a wolf.

She had to have heard him wrong. The stench of magic had just…gotten to her head. Because he was fine when she’d last seen him. At least, mentally. He was himself. He knew who he was. What he was. What they were. But now…

Isla turned his words over and over like a stone as if somehow, she’d discover some hidden message. Some secret laced in every breath, every syllable. Like the mystery of the pass or the supposed ancient strife between her homeland and her fate. He’d enjoyed things like that—riddles and games, the ominous, the foreboding.

But the light in his eyes, the one that had been there during the initial time they’d spoken, was gone. The spark he’d possessed that first made her approach him at the feast—that he carried in every conversation, even when he was a bumbling mess—was missing. It felt as if someone else were wearing his face.

Like the man before her was a stranger.

“You see what I’m talking about?” Fury painted the hunter’s blood-smeared features as he cradled his side. “He’s lost his damn mind.”

Isla’s foot collided with something hard in the grass, pain shooting up her leg. As she stumbled forward, running into the back of the person in front of her, she glanced down, finding a rock jutting in her path.

Her path—she hadn’t even realized she’d been moving.

The terror that had once kept her rooted had given way to alarm and concern, her mind releasing its hold on her body. Even the hellish repetition of that scratchy, accusatory voice—murderer—had faded to a nagging in the back of her subconscious.

The person she’d hit didn’t respond to her muttered apology or gripe when she absentmindedly pushed against them for leverage to get upright again. They were just as dazed and dumbfounded as she was.

Two nurses beckoned from the infirmary tried to pry the hunter away. He needed help, like the man attacked by the bak who was already being guided up the field to some aid. No one approached Lukas, likely feeling exactly what she did. The gnawing in their guts that this was another trick, another brewing disaster.

The Wilds may have taken pieces of those who dared enter, forever changing them from who they once were. Sometimes it took them whole—their lives. Bodies left in the bellies of beasts. But it never took everything and nothing. No one emerged a shell. Not like this.

The hunter grunted in frustration, resistant to their assistance and vehement in his avoidance. She understood that well, at least. He’d tasted death only moments ago and who knew what he’d dealt with behind the Wall. The transition to safety and normalcy wasn’t simple.

“Maybe I lost my mind, too,” the hunter said, tone gravelly with ire. He rose to his feet and put some distance between himself and the caretakers. “I should’ve left your ass in there, you piece of shit. You almost cost me my life—twice.”

“What do you mean twice?”

Isla’s thought had been spoken aloud by another—the warrior who’d known Lukas. The woman wore a similar look of disbelief and confusion as she spun to the hunter. “What are you talking about?”

“This bastard tried to kill me.”

Isla’s heart stopped. “What?” Her whisper blended into the murmurs and sharp breaths of others.

Her eyes darted to Lukas. The auburn-haired man remained upright in his spot, though faltered now due to whatever injuries were hidden beneath his damaged armor. His shoulder, she was sure. His leg, she remembered.

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