I curse, realizing she doesn’t know how to fight.
Gods on their stony thrones.
The creature stands, black blood oozing down its bare torso.
Holding my breath, I summon as many stone sharps as possible. They make a whizzing, high-pitched sound as they compound into a blade.
The creature and I charge each other at the same time. It wields tooth and claw. I raise my stone blade above my head.
I bring the weapon down swiftly.
With the intensity of my force, his head and left shoulder are cleaved from his body.
Melisa cries out behind me.
I whip around as the two pieces of the vaimpír’s body fall in heavy thuds on the snowy floor.
Melisa’s breath is rapid and shallow, one hand on her chest and the other over her mouth. I let the stones of the sword fall back to the ground and rush over to her. She’s trembling, and her face is pale.
“What’s happening? Are you hurt?” I demand.
She swallows. “I might… my chest hurts.”
My hands trail over her shoulders, and they are soft and pliant under my palms. When they reach the impossibly smooth skin of her neck, her flesh is clammy.
“You’re in shock,” I say.
She shakes her head.
“No—this—” When her words don’t come easy, she leans toward me. Unsure what else to do, I pull her in and rub my bloody hand up and down the back of her thick cloak.
Her frozen hands rest on my chest.
“Tell me what you are feeling?” I try again.
She lets out a gasping cough.
“Melisa—”
“This… it happens sometimes. My mother called them waking nightmares. It’s just… it will… pass,” she stumbles.
My brows furrow. “It is an attack?”
She nods. “Of my nerves. Please, it will p-pass.”
Instinctively, I hold her tighter. When I agreed to take her to Zlosa, my duty was to protect her by any means necessary. I defended her from the vaimpír, and now, I will defend her from her own mind.
“All is well. The worst has passed. Nothing else will bother us this evening. You will rest well, and then we will continue in the morning. You are strong. You are fierce. You are capable.”
I will confidence into my words as her walls crumble. Another mystery unravels, revealing her fear of letting another person see her so vulnerable.
My hand works its way up and down before venturing to her uncovered hair. Its silky softness is pleasing as it slides against the pads of my fingers.
Finally, with one long exhale, her body relaxes. But when she tries to pull away, something clicks in my chest, like a lock opening, and I resist.
“Ra’Sa, I am… better now.”
My throat bobs. I still don’t release her. Holding her through her shakes made me face her fragility. I fear we’ll both fall apart if I step back.