It was not long before Creed returned, unaccompanied. Justice watched him cross the courtyard. Not a single guard paid him any mind. Justice waited for Creed to enter his living quarters before stepping from the enclave of the guest quarters and into the moonlit courtyard.
Justice crossed to the guards’ post. Immediately, they straightened at his approach.
“Good evening,” he said. They nodded with deference, recognizing him as the Godseeker who had arrived earlier in the day. “Who was that man who just entered through the side posterns?”
The guards looked at him, then each other, their growing uneasiness apparent. One spoke. “No one has entered or left the temple on our watch.”
“My mistake.”
Justice returned to his quarters, feeling the guards’ eyes track him until he was inside and the door was closed. They thought he had been testing them and worried that they had failed.
They had, although they weren’t to blame.
As he rolled into the bedding of his sagging cot, he deliberated as to what he intended to do about it.
…
The sun had not yet colored the horizon when the sound Raven had been waiting for had her hurtling from the shelter—and without the weapon she had promised Blade she’d keep at hand. She had no need for it because she heard singing.
“O, give me a home by the sea,” sang a deep and lusty voice. He was not yet within sight, but it was Blade’s voice, beyond a doubt. And he could, indeed, sing.
She smiled, impressed by the unexpected beauty of it. What kind of man might he have been if his life had begun differently?
Anticipation fluttered in her abdomen, both at the thought of seeing Creed for the first time in months and because she had been so worried about Blade that she had not slept. As Blade rounded the bluff through the swirl of fine snow her chest swelled and sank. He was alone.
The singing stopped when Blade saw her. He dusted the layer of snow from his hooded head with thick-gloved fingers. Raven stood on her toes, peering past him, hoping for Creed to appear at any moment. Sickening disappointment filled her when he did not.
Where was he? What if something had happened to him?
No. She did not believe that. Creed was invincible. But neither could she imagine that Blade had not found him.
“Where’s your weapon?” Blade growled.
She ignored his disapproval. “What happened?” she asked, anxiously scanning his face. She could feel that something was wrong, and that he did not want to tell her about it. “Wasn’t Creed there? Couldn’t you get inside the temple to speak with him?”
“I got inside, and I spoke with him.”
Raven relaxed. The sick feeling eased. Something had delayed him was all. “When is he coming?”
“He’s not.”
She waited for Blade to explain, but he said nothing more, only watched her with unusual compassion. Reality slowly settled in, and the world reeled around her.
Creed was not coming for her.
It took her a few seconds to comprehend that the roar in her ears was not caused by the wind.
“We’re leaving the mountains,” she heard Blade say past the pulsing beat in her head. “Justice was at the temple. He’s engaged an assassin to hunt you. You were right. Not even winter will stop him, and he’ll have men with him who know these mountains better than I do. This isn’t a safe place for us.”
Her heart clenched in a tight, frozen knot. She had not realized just how much she had counted on Creed. Now, she had nothing. Blade had made it very clear that while he did not mind her company, she could not stay with him forever. He wanted his freedom returned to him. And he worried that, at some point, he would fail her.
He could not fail her more than Creed had.
Blade continued to speak but Raven barely listened. She caught something about “wishes you well,” “others like you,” and “needing protection.”
She did not want to hear how others needed Creed more or how unimportant she had become to him. She could not imagine anyone needing him more than she did right now.
“I have everything packed but the bedding and shelter,” she interrupted him. “You must have been awake since you left yesterday. Did you want to sleep for a few hours before we depart?”
She could see the concern in his eyes, but he did not press her to talk.
He turned to the shelter. “An hour,” he said. “No longer. I’d rather we were far away from here before night.”
…
While Blade slept, Raven stood numb and alone at the edge of the cliff and watched the sun begin its slow climb over the mountains. Reds mottled to purple, then to vibrant blue. The world, wild and free, dropped off for miles at her feet. True demons could fly. That was the one talent she wished she had inherited, because then, she would soar far from these mountains where no one would ever know of her.
But she could not, and if she were to survive, she would need to stand and fight. She would need to become the very thing she did not want to be. The thing Blade hated.
He was with her now only because he felt responsible for her situation, but how long would it be before he felt he had done his duty and she lost importance to him, as she had with Creed, who she had relied on since childhood?
The thought of Blade turning from her, too, left her breathless and faint. She did not want to die. Nor did she wish to be a burden.
The abyss beyond the cliff’s edge, inches from her booted toes, danced and swirled, and she closed her eyes against a sudden wave of unexpected dizziness.
Before she could retreat to safety, the rocky ledge began to tilt forward and give way. Her arms pinwheeled as she tried to maintain her balance. A sharp cry of fear escaped her.
And then the ground leveled off beneath her again.
When she opened her eyes, a familiar, blue-green light had chased away the last purple shadows of the retreating mortal night. She had time to do no more than register the solid ground under her feet before her father was calling to her.
“Little demon.”
He appeared on one of the nearby broken cliffs, a black shadow against the churning, lightning-streaked demon sky, before leaping lightly from precipice to precipice to stalk toward her in his mortal form. With his black hair, ageless face, and those striking pale eyes, he could pass for her brother rather than her father.
She waited, knowing better than to try and run from him. He stopped an arm’s length away, as close to the cliff’s edge as she.
“This is the second time I’ve helped you,” he said.
He had saved her from falling. It had only taken that one moment of stark fear for her life for him to be able to summon her. Raven went cold despite the heat of the boundary and the heavy clothing she wore. The snow that had been caked to her legs melted through her wool trousers as fire crackled beneath her skin.
“I never asked for your help,” she said.
“But you didn’t want to die. I know your wishes.” His smile held satisfaction. “You’re more demon than you admit. Between us, we could rule the mortal world. I can show you how,” he said. “Summon me.”
“No.” The price he’d set for her life was too high. Immortals had been banished from the mortal world, once and for all. Bringing them back was something she would never owe him.
His icy eyes flashed dangerously. “Do you believe you’re the only spawn who can summon a demon? Do you want another to be the first to unleash us?” He seized her arm, his fingers bruising her skin through the heavy padding of her coat, and shook her as if she were a child’s rag doll. “You might have protection from other demons, but not from me. Your life is mine and you’ll do as I say. I can kill you if I choose.”