Resigned, Eira followed her sister but stopped when she heard a strange snapping sound behind them. She twisted around, searching for the source of the noise. Without warning an object buzzed past her, its speed creating a stiff breeze that kissed her cheek.
Cian screamed.
Whipping around, Eira saw her sister hunched over. Something slender and white projected from her left side. Another buzz, another breath of wind, and a second white spear pierced Cian’s body just below her left shoulder. Cian screamed again and fell to her knees.
Eira rushed to Cian, crouching beside her. Trying to shield her sister as much as she could, Eira searched the trees for their attacker. High-pitched cackling brought her gaze to the branches of a bone tree. Among the draping gore perched a hobgoblin, its beady red eyes fixed on Eira. It cackled again before it launched itself into the high branches of a nearby pine tree and disappeared. Whether satisfied with its attack or unwilling to risk a fight once it had been spotted, Eira didn’t know, but the small goblin seemed to be gone.
Cian began to cough, spitting blood onto the ground. One look at the wounds snatched Eira’s breath. The hobgoblin had created its weapons by snapping limbs from the bone tree. The jagged, razor-sharp points of splintered bone had been thrown with enough force to render Cian’s armor useless. Both of the makeshift spears had entered her back and spiked out of her lower-left abdomen and upper-left chest.
“Lady Cian!”
Eira looked up and saw Alistair running toward them. Reaching the sisters, he stared at Cian, horror overspreading his face.
“What happened?”
“A hobgoblin was in the bone trees.” Eira’s voice shook. “It ambushed us and disappeared.”
“Hobgoblins don’t attack like this,” Alistair whispered hoarsely. “They never attack like this.”
Eira could only nod. She’d never known a hobgoblin to wield weapons or to demonstrate such deadly accuracy in an attack. But then, the Guard had never faced a band of striga or discovered a village devoid of its residents. The rules of their world were changing quickly. Too quickly to see what was coming next. Too quickly to save Cian. She drew a breath to speak, but only a sob came out as Cian collapsed on her side.
“Lukasz sent me back to tell you we’re pursuing the goblin toward the river,” Alistair said. “We were to follow . . .”
Eira cradled Cian’s head in her lap.
“I’ll go for help,” Alistair told her. “There are elixirs in the saddlebags.”
“There’s no elixir that will save her,” Eira answered. “These are fatal wounds.”
Alistair tugged at his dark curls, frantic. “There must be something. In all that we study there must be something that can save her.”
Eira shook her head. “Nothing we’ve learned—”
Dorusduain is a lesson . . .
Forcing her breath to slow, Eira held up her palm. It was dirty but unmarked. Skin that had been cut open, that blood had poured from, was whole again.
“I know what can save her,” Eira whispered.
“Tell me how I can help.” Alistair crouched beside her. “I’ll do everything I can.”
“I need you to leave,” Eira told him.
Alistair stood up, frowning. “I’m not going to leave you like this. What if the hobgoblins return? What if there are more redcaps?”
Eira’s jaw clenched, but she couldn’t waste time arguing.
“Will you swear to me that what you witness here, you’ll not speak of to anyone?” she hissed. “Swear on your life.”
Alistair paled, but nodded.
“If you forsake this oath, I will kill you myself.” Eira waited until he nodded again. “Hold my sister; try to keep her still. If the bone splinters move, it will cause more damage.”
Eira and Alistair slowly traded places. Alistair’s eyes were wide. He looked frightened, not of his oath but of Eira herself. He probably believed she’d gone mad with grief. He’d be sure of it when he saw what she was about to do.
But she couldn’t worry about Alistair’s assumptions. Drawing her dagger, Eira sliced open her palm and waited for her blood to hit the ground. She began to chant, but her mind was racing as she spoke the incantation the prisoner who called Bosque Mar master had taught her.
Blood has been spilled here. Cian’s blood. Philip’s blood. The redcaps’ blood. He must come. He must.
Eira kept her eyes closed as she chanted. And hoped. Her eyelids snapped open when Alistair gave a cry of alarm.
“Don’t move, Alistair!” Eira snapped.
“But—” Alistair had one hand on his sword hilt, the other holding Cian. His eyes were fixed on the place where Bosque Mar had materialized.
Paying no attention to Alistair or Cian, Bosque came to Eira, taking her hand and kissing it.
“My lady Eira.”
When Eira drew her hand back, the wound was gone. She pointed at Cian’s crumpled form. “Can you save her?”
Bosque glanced at Cian, then returned his gaze to Eira. “Do you want me to save your sister?”
“My sister is dying,” Eira snarled at him. “Of course I want you to save her. Show me the power you claim to have.”
“I’ve offered many demonstrations of my power,” Bosque said quietly. “And you require yet another?”
“Please.” Eira’s anger broke and she bowed her head. “Please save Cian.”
Bosque reached out, lifting Eira’s chin. His silver eyes bored into hers. “Your will.”
He moved to Cian’s side, kneeling on the ground. Alistair stared at him in disbelief, but Bosque calmly regarded the knight and said, “Open her mouth.”
Eira didn’t see Bosque’s weapons, but in a moment he’d opened the vein at his wrist and held it over Cian’s lips. His dark blood trickled onto her tongue. Eira watched as Cian swallowed reflexively. Still keeping his wrist to Cian’s mouth, Bosque reached out and grasped the bone splinter at her shoulder and with one jerk pulled it free. Without hesitation he reached for the other spear, sliding it out of Cian’s abdomen. Alistair gasped when blood didn’t gush from the puncture wounds, but Eira knew what was happening. The wounds were closing, Cian’s flesh mending.
Withdrawing his wrist from Cian’s lips, Bosque leaned over and whispered in her ear. He stood up but glanced down at Alistair’s ashen face.