It tumbles across the floor, a thunderous cacophony in theotherwise noiseless passage. The moment it does, the centipede lunges straight for my throat.
I see it coming. See my death in its milky, murderous eyes. See my fate closing in like the snap of its serrated pincers around my throat.
I see it coming and I do not scream. I do not run. I hold my ground, torch extended along with my pitiful dagger. Because if I am going to die, there is no way I’m going alone. I will be this monster’s final kill.
And it will be mine.
My weapons are still outstretched when its head is parted from its body. There is a flash of heat—a glowing blade, swinging down from my periphery—and then it hits the ground at my feet. A second later, the squirming body follows suit.
Dead.
Definitively, unquestionably dead.
Green goo sprays all over me, coating the front of my dress, burning my skin like lye. I scramble backward, eyes squeezed shut as I wipe frantically at my face, praying none of the foul venom got into my mouth. I’m still wiping when a large hand peels my fingers away from my cheeks, grips me roughly by the chin, and jerks my head back. I find myself staring upward into a set of burning eyes. The hand at my jaw flexes, anger thrumming through every digit.
“When I say to stay by the fire,” Scythe grits, face dark with fury. “Stay by the bloody fire.”
Miraculously, all themen survive.
Back in the cave, Uther and Mabon—the tall gray-haired fellow and his stocky bald counterpart, I learn after brief introductions—are packing up the camp. Jac is cleaning weapons,a disgusted grimace on his typically cheerful face as he wipes green goo from blade after blade.
The pile of dead cyntroedi is massive. It nearly reaches the ceiling. There must be a hundred of them. I shiver at the sight and swiftly look away.
“The archer returns!” Farley greets me with a wan smile. He’s sitting by the fire, propped up against his daypack. His leg is strapped into a makeshift splint of wood and rope. It looks like he fashioned it himself. “Glad you’re still breathing, Ace. You don’t mind if I call you Ace, do you? Seeing as I don’t know your real name…”
“It’s R—” I catch myself just in time, swallowing down the slipup. “Call me whatever you’d like.”
“How aboutfooloridiotorinsufferable bane of my existence,” Scythe mutters from beside me.
I shoot him a dark look. He is still seething mad, that’s plain to see. He was furious to find I’d wandered off, disobeying his direct order to stay by the fire. That fury had heightened to a blind rage when he found me in the passage, going head-to-head with what I later found out was not an alpha male, but rather the queen of the cyntroedi hive, her bulbous body laden with eggs.
Thankfully, now that she’s dead, there is little chance of another strike. According to Jac, the remaining creatures will retreat and regroup until a new queen is born to lead them. This news should be comforting. But, amid the carnage, all I can think about is getting out of here. Back to the light, back to the air, away from the astringent rot of dead insects.
“Did you see her?” Farley asks Mabon, pointing at me with undisguised mirth. “Sharpshooter! Bullseye! She must’ve taken down twenty of ’em. Grabbed the bow and started firing. Never even blinked.”
“I saw,” the bald man grumbles, looking in any direction butmine. He is smart enough to realize any praise heaped on me will only further incite the pillar of wrath towering beside me.
“Of course you saw!” Farley is undeterred. “Only a blind man could miss her. She saved our asses!”
“Your ass was the only one in need of saving,” Uther chimes in, but his gray eyes hold a teasing light. “Seeing as you spent most of the battle sitting on it.”
Mabon snorts.
“I took down just as many as you did!” Farley yells, incensed. “Even sitting on my ass!”
Uther glances at me, grimaces, and shakes his head. I clamp my lips shut to keep my smile at bay.
“Can we get the hell out of here?” Scythe growls. “Before you call whatever other monsters reside in this mountain down upon our heads?”
Everyone falls silent and makes quick work of grabbing the rest of their belongings. In mere moments, the whole camp is cleared out. With the other horses gone, Onyx’s saddlebags are double-stuffed with gear. I hope the three that bolted fared better than the poor mare. My eyes linger on her prone form for a moment before we file out of the cave, Uther and Mabon carrying Farley between them like he weighs no more than a feather, Onyx following with a jangle of tackle. Scythe lingers behind, waiting to take up the rear as usual.
Jac stops beside me near the boulder, chucking me lightly beneath the chin with his fist. My eyes move to his.
“No one of importance,” he murmurs, echoing my earlier description of myself. “Right.Ace.”
With a quick grin and a shake of his head, he ushers me out of the cave. It takes effort to keep from glancing back, looking for Scythe as we make our way to the fork at the end of the passage. It seems so much shorter now that I’m not running for my life.
“He’ll be along in a minute,” Jac informs me quietly. “He’s clearing out the cave for the next unfortunate travelers who take this route.”