Reiya’s blood ran cold.
She didn’t dare turn.
“Mei Mei, don’t move,” she whispered, stepping back, angling herself between the child and the sandshrike.
The creature’s head turned slightly, its focus wavering as it tracked her movement. The rattle grew louder as its tail vibrated. Reiya’s pulse roared in her ears, but she forced herself to stay calm. She lifted the shawl, fingers squeezing the soft fabric as she calculated her next move.
The sandshrike hissed, its body lifting higher, tensing, muscles rippling beneath its scaled surface as it prepared to strike.
Her voice dropped to a whisper, low and steady despite her pounding heart. Tension strained every syllable.
“Mei Mei. Step back,slowly. No sudden movements.” She swallowed hard, her eyes never leaving the snake. “Close the door behind you. Go.”
The faint creak of floorboards betrayed Mei Mei’s cautious retreat. Reiya’s grip on the shawl tightened, her knuckles white. The sandshrike’s head swayed in time with her breaths, forked tongue slithering in and out, slitted eyes gleaming with predatory focus.
And then, it lunged.
Reiya didn’t think—she simply moved.
She snapped the shawl forward like a whip. The fabric cracked midair, striking the sandshrike mid-lunge and tangling around its thrashing body. A shrill, ear-piercing hiss ripped from the creature as it writhed, venomous fangs snapping at nothing.
The door slammed shut behind her.
Her blood roared in her ears, but this was no time to panic. The sandshrike convulsed violently on the floorboards, its tail lashing in fury. It wasn’t victory, just an interlude before the next attack.
Her gaze darted around the dim wagon, the flickering lantern light casting shadows over the tools and supplies scattered around. Her eyes locked onto a sturdy, woven basket not far from her—thick reeds, heavy build.
It might work.
The sandshrike hissed, beady eyes locking onto her. The second it sensed her intent, it lunged, venomous fangs bared.
Reiya snatched the basket and slammed it down.
The impact shook through her bones. The woven reeds trapped the snake mid-strike, its body snapping and coiling violently against its cage. The furious shriek that followed rattled through the confined space.
She threw her weight onto it, palms slick with sweat as the basket shuddered beneath her grip. The sandshrike lashed out again, slamming against the reeds, hunting for a weakness, a crack—an escape.
Outside, Mei Mei’s panicked cries pierced the night. A promise that help was coming.
Her legs buckled, knees hitting the floor as she fought to keep the basket pinned.
“Stay down,” she muttered, panting.
She wasn’t sure if she meant the snake—or herself.
Chapter Thirty-Five
KAELENDRIN
The festival buzzed around him—laughter, music, the crackle of the bonfire—but Kaelen barely heard it. Leaning against a post at the bonfire’s edge, his gaze kept drifting to the wagons beyond the firelight. His jaw tensed, thoughts circling, weighed down by words left unsaid . . . and the ones he should’ve chosen more carefully.
The soft crunch of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. Alarik emerged from the shadows, three mugs of wine in hands. He placed them on a nearby bench.
“Didn’t expect to find you sulking here.” He arched a brow. “Weren’t you dancing? Where’s Yara?”
Kaelen sighed, running a hand through his hair. “She needed space.”
His brother’s expression shifted, the faintest furrow appearing between his brows. “What happened?”