Wylde Magic | Book 3

Twenty Nine: Picking Up The Pieces

Despite the heat from Spaulder's scaled skin.

Despite the ash raining in the air, scattered and burning from the raging fires of the fae magics and Spaulder's fire.

Despite the anger that burned in me.

I was ice cold.

Numb, really. Numb to all of it. The closeness to DuVarick. Bara Khalja. The atrocities that the warlock rose against us.

Baeleon.

I wasn't the only one silent on our retreat. The names and fae meant little to Spaulder. To him, it was just another battle. Something he was evidently very versed in.

But for the rest of us, it was crushing.

Watching Eberon and Nassir both pull Thain away from the valley of teeth that swallowed Baeleon was painful. For someone who rarely showed a depth of emotion, Thain's heart was plain for all to see as he raged and grieved at the shock of his lost king. Aside from Eberon, I hadn't known him to be so loyal to anyone else. Eberon handled it little better, but when his focus had to shift to keeping his last remaining triquetram alive Eberon became a different person entirely.

Schula's rage, fear, and despair were plain to see. She cried, big, fat, sloppy tears as she yelled down to DuVarick as we left.

Nassir was quiet, but the deadly calm that settled over him like a dark cloak of hatred was unsettling. It was so unlike him, but after the way he behaved in Eidelhein and again in the valley, I'm sure having Bara Khalja slip through our fingers did terrible things to his state of being.

Even Puko flew to us from the trees, having kept away from the battle itself. The fact that he landed silently in my arms spoke volumes, and I buried my face against his black feathers.

Spaulder didn't fly long, but every moment I looked down into the wreckage from his back felt like time had stopped.

Bodies. The scars of magic in the Mother's earth. Fire. Weapons. Bones.

And ice. So much ice.

Nothing was untouched, and to top it all off, ash rained down like a thick summer storm of blackness and heat. A poison to all who inhaled it.

At least Spaulder kept us above the worst of that.

I held Puko in my arms, the wind tearing at my disheveled braids and tugging at my clothes as the great dragon glided through the air. But soon enough he began to descend, and my heart filled with dread.

Up here, the pain was numb. On the ground, it would become a real, tangible thing we had to deal with.

With the great flap of wings and a gentle bump as we hit the ground, I pulled my face from Puko's feathers and looked around. Spaulder broke through the canopy above where the Autumn court had made camp, taking us nearly to where our tents stood, near Baeleon's.

At first, I didn't recognize where we were. My eyes needed a moment to adjust to the darker surroundings, and the ash was making its way here, even through the treetops. There was also little life here. Some fae remained to watch the horses and divide out supplies for the returning army.

My heart sank, just thinking of how small that number might be.

It wouldn't be just us. No, Baeleon pulled enough from the valley before it overtook him. And not all of the Autumn force was lost to battle. But depending on how many stayed to fight the overwhelming enemy and how many made a retreat, it could mean all the difference in our chances next time.

Someone came out of Baeleon's tent. One of the strategists I had seen from the meetings in the palace, I think. He looked up at us expectantly, surprise and suspicion plain on his face.