His heart slammed.
She’s hurt.
Dar did not question it. He forced his horse into a run and shouted, “Hurry!”
His men needed no further command. They spurred their horses hard, hooves tearing into the earth as they raced forward.
Soon, the forest rushed toward them, branches blurring, the path narrowing as Dar drove his horse faster than was wise, faster than was safe. Nothing mattered but reaching her.
Nothing.
They broke through the last stand of trees—and he saw her.
Elara lay crumpled on the forest floor, motionless. Blood soaked the front of her gown, dark and spreading, staining the leaves beneath her. Brice lay nearby, unmoving.
The world shattered.
A sound tore from Dar’s chest—raw, animal, filled with a rage so fierce it seemed to split the air itself. He launched himself from his horse before it had fully stopped, hitting the ground hard and stumbling the last steps to her side.
“Elara!” he roared, dropping to his knees, his hands already shaking as he reached for her.
Blood. Too much blood.
“Nay,” he snarled, as if the word alone could undo what he saw. “Nay. Nay.”
He gathered her to him, his hands slick with red, his breath coming in harsh, broken gasps as he pressed his forehead to hers.
Around him, the forest fell silent.
He felt her breath against his cheek.
She still lived.
“Get the healers,” he shouted and one of his men took off, racing through the forest.
He lowered his face close to hers and whispered, “Hear me well, Elara. You will not leave me. I refuse to let you go. The healers are on their way. They will help you.”
Boots shifted behind him.
Dar did not look up as one of his men knelt near the second body. Another Hunter joined him, then a third. There was a pause—brief, weighted—before footsteps approached.
“Dar,” one of them said quietly.
He lifted his head then, his eyes never leaving Elara’s face.
“The other man,” the Hunter continued. “It was Roth.”
Dar’s jaw tightened, but he did not speak.
“He must have surprised Brice,” the Hunter went on. “Came out of the trees fast. Brice probably tried to get between him and Elara, but Roth struck first. He stabbed her, then most likely flung his dagger at Brice.”
“And Brice?” Dar asked, already knowing the answer.
“He drew in time,” the Hunter said. “Drove his blade into Roth’s chest before he fell.”
Dar closed his eyes for a single breath. Roth had been banished, stripped of honor and place, and yet the king had still found use for him. Still sent him into the forest like a hound let loose from its leash. But why attack the one he was ordered to follow? Or was it revenge Roth was after?
When Dar opened his eyes again, they were clear. Cold.