Warrian tumbled over the ground, absorbing the force of the blast. He and Radek had been a few feet away when the explosion hit, but still close enough that the power of it had sent them sailing. He’d grabbed Radek as he’d launched himself away from the danger, but they’d become separated in midair.
His ears rang. Smoke choked his lungs. Heat blasted across his side as the flames ate away one half of the house.
Across the gleaming grass, he saw Radek’s body shift. He pushed to his feet, wobbling for a moment before he steadied himself. Warrian hurried to his side, scanning for signs of injury. “Are you hurt?”
“A little singed. A little banged around. But I’ll live. You?”
“I am well. We must go now.”
Radek stared at the house, eyes narrow. Through the now-shattered picture window, Warrian could see a Dregorg, his orange eyes lit by flame.
“I’m not letting him burn alive,” said Radek. “I’m going back in.”
“To save the Dregorg?” asked Warrian.
“He saved Talan’s life by telling me about the trap under him. I won’t stand here and let an ally—even a temporary one—die when I can stop it.”
Warrian knew that look on Radek’s face. There would be no reasoning with him. He would do as he said, with or without Warrian’s approval. “I will help.”
“No. There may be more traps.”
“You need help.”
“No. I’m strong enough on this world to do it alone. Go protect the empress. Get her out of here before those other Dregorgs arrive.”
Warrian wanted to argue, but more enemies were on the way. His first priority had to be Isa.
He clapped a hand on Radek’s bare shoulder. “Be safe. We will go to the nearest campsite to tend Talan’s wounds. Meet us there.”
Radek nodded and shed the vest he wore—the one that belonged to Talan. Hundreds of Imonite trinkets and vials glittered in the firelight. “Give this back to him. He’s going to want it.”
Warrian took the vest covered in Builder devices and turned back to the truck. Behind him, he heard the high-pitched spark of Radek’s maulst powering up. The sound was followed immediately by the crash of wood and glass as he began slamming his way through the wall of the house to make a doorway that wasn’t on fire.
By the time Warrian had neared the truck, he knew something was wrong. Talan sat in the back seat, his big body rocking back and forth as if in despair.
Warrian flung the door open and saw that Talan cradled Isa in his arms. Tears wet his face, leaving clean lines in the dried blood. Anguish shaped his features, speaking loudly of grief and hopelessness.
Warrian went still as shock washed over him. Talan was not the kind of man who shed tears. The man barely even flinched when injured in combat. He was as tough as any Loriahan warrior Warrian had ever known.
Talan did not cry. And yet tears flowed freely over his bloody cheeks without him showing even the slightest sign that he was embarrassed by the weak show of emotion.
Warrian’s focus shifted to Isa. She didn’t move. Her chest was still. She was deathly pale, without even a fluttering eyelash to give him hope. Smears of blood covered her hands and face. Wherever Talan’s body touched hers, more rusty smudges were left behind. Even though Warrian knew the blood was not hers, there was still something terribly wrong. She was so still.
He couldn’t speak. He wanted to ask what had happened, but his throat was too tight to allow room for even a faint word to pass.
He reached for her neck to feel for the beat of her heart. There was nothing. Not even a weak throb of life.
“She’s dead,” moaned Talan, pulling her tighter against his chest. “She killed herself healing me.”
“No.” The word passed Warrian’s lips, only to be sucked away by the cold wind. His mind spun in a useless circle of denial, gathering speed, but still making no sense of what he saw.
She couldn’t be dead. It simply wasn’t possible. She was his people’s greatest hope. Their best chance for survival and freedom. For years they had all fought to drive the Raide away, and every effort—every life lost—had been futile. They had nowhere else to turn for help. No more sparks of hope left. Only Isa.
And Warrian had killed her. He’d asked her to help Talan. He’d given her the garala to ensure her aid.
“No,” Warrian said again, this time with more force. She couldn’t be dead. He wouldn’t allow it. She would live, even if he had to give his own life to ensure that it was so.
He shoved Talan’s hands away and lifted her out of the truck. As he laid her on the ground, her head lolled around, limp and lifeless.
Denial died a swift death, and on its heels came rage. “How long?” he barked at Talan. “How long has she been like this?”
Talan swayed, drunk on the energy that Isa had given him to save his life. “I don’t know. I woke up and found her already gone.”
She couldn’t have been lifeless for more than a few seconds. He’d only been away from here for mere moments.
Warrian pulled the tape from her bloody fingers and hastily fixed the garala in place on his own hands. He shoved his rage into the rings, forcing them to spark to life. Then he pressed his hands on either side of her heart, and sent a searing shock through his fingers into her chest.
Her body lurched as her muscles constricted, but she once again went still.
He leaned down and covered her mouth with his, breathing into her lungs. Beneath his hands, the garala sent out another thick jolt of power. She jerked again, but there was still no life flowing through her.
As her body went still again, Warrian felt a huge, gaping hole open inside his chest. He couldn’t tell if it was fear, grief or something the garala stole from him to do its work. But whatever it was, he felt ripped in two, torn apart so wide he knew he’d never again feel whole.
Talan grabbed up his vest, from where it had fallen from Warrian’s shock-numbed fingers. He flipped it open and retrieved a small metal cylinder. He gripped it in his fist, revealing a short, sharp needle protruding from the end.
“What is that?” demanded Warrian, grabbing Talan’s wrist.
“Stimulant. To help restart her heart.”
Warrian released him.
Talan pressed the cylinder against her neck and twisted the end.
The drug hissed into her veins, but nothing happened. Not even a flutter of her eyelashes.
Warrian breathed for her again. The garala crackled between his fingers, demanding more from him.
He pressed his hands over her heart. Another huge chunk of Warrian was consumed as the garala sent another searing jolt into her chest. He let the rings take what they wanted, willingly accepting any price they demanded in exchange for her life.
Her body arched once more. As her chest fell, she let out a shocked, choking gasp. Her hands flailed as if trying to fight off an enemy, but then fell to her sides. A weak flutter trembled through her eyelids, but they never fully opened.
She pulled in a breath on her own, and her pulse pounded in the hollow of her throat.
Isa was alive.
Victorious relief flooded through Warrian. He sat, stunned, simply watching the fragile beat of her pulse beneath her skin.
She was alive. Barely. Incredibly. It seemed too good to be real, and yet he could not imagine any other outcome. His entire existence had compressed down to the small space where only this one single woman mattered.
With great care, he gathered her to his chest. She felt so delicate in his arms, and yet so precious he could hardly believe she was real.
Talan slumped back on his heels, heedless of the frozen mud all around them. Blood coated his skin and jeans. His whole body trembled visibly, right in time with Warrian’s own shaking.
They’d come so close to losing her—so close to losing everything.
“We need to get her out of here,” said Talan, his words slurring with a mixture of relief and fear. “Somewhere safe. Warm.”
Warrian still wasn’t convinced she was whole and safe. Releasing her now was too much to ask of himself. “Can you drive?”
Talan shook his head. “I’m sorry. The effects of the healing are too strong. My head is spinning so hard, I know I’d crash. You drive. I’ll hold her. Make sure she’s okay.”
Everything in Warrian rose up, screaming in defiance. He didn’t want Talan to touch her, and yet there was no other choice. They had to flee. More Dregorgs were coming. Getting Isa to safety was more important than Warrian’s ridiculous jealousy.
He stood, cradling Isa as he tucked her into the truck. Talan’s blood was everywhere, but there was nothing he could do about that now. As much as he hated seeing any man’s blood touch her, he would ignore his baser urges for now. Later he would bathe her. When she was safe.
Talan climbed in beside her, moving carefully, as though he feared toppling over onto her. His movements were clumsy, but he finally settled in place, with Isa’s head in his lap. He wrapped his bloody fingers around her wrist. Warrian knew it was only to keep track of her pulse, but he hated every second of the other man’s touch.
Before he did something reckless and unjustified, he positioned himself behind the wheel and drove away.
In the rearview mirror, he saw the little house collapse as flames consumed it. Radek’s bike was still parked where it had been before. The other warrior was nowhere to be seen.