Page 57 of These Fractured Bonds

Raf whistled. “Nice shot!”

Yareli smiled. Her training had paid off, but she didn’t have time to gloat. With Leo on an even playing ground, the sense of urgency to find August returned.

“Let’s go,” she said.

Raf had them stick to the backstreets, but Yareli kept her eyes peeled for any enemies. A nearby building creaked and collapsed. The deafening sound gave her pause. A blur of motion shot toward them, crashing into Raf. He tumbled to the ground; his shield kept the rat’s snapping teeth away from his neck.

Yellow foam—a stark contrast to its vibrant, onyx teeth—drizzled out of its mouth, spraying Raf with its foul smell. On theroof, the rats had looked small, half her height at most, but up close, this one was as high as her shoulder. Raf grunted, and she sprang into action. He was her way in; she couldn’t let him die.

She scooched behind the rat, eyeing its back. She stepped backward before taking off and pouncing onto the rat.

Yareli plunged her longer dagger into its thick neck, using it as an anchor as it bucked. Raf cursed. The rat’s erratic movements pummeled into his shield, but it held. At first, she struggled to do anything besides hold on. Then, her grip slipped, and she yelled, swinging her free dagger toward the rat’s eye. The bucking stopped as she aimed true. The rat fell onto its side, sliding off Raf’s shield, and she landed on her shoulder. Pain bloomed on contact, but she rolled away before she was pinned under its weight. She staggered to her feet and retrieved her daggers from the twitching rat.

“Step aside,” Raf instructed. Other than the foam dripping off his forehead, he looked unharmed.

Yareli moved behind him as he beheaded the rat in a single swing. Another kill, she noted quietly.

“That was a bold move.” he said.

“Yeah, well, I don’t really have strength going for me.” She rolled the shoulder she had landed on.Yep. It was going to bruise.

“Wits are just as important,” he said. “Come, let’s cut through here.”

She didn’t point out that wits couldn't save her from magic, and she followed him through another alley full of burning buildings. The wreckage was worse closer to the center. Fear mounted in her veins. She was the only one who knew of the worse fate that awaited them if they didn't flee. They made a hard left, bursting into the village center, and she gasped. A familiar blue uniform drew her eye.

“Who’s that?” she asked Raf, even though the truth unraveled itself in her mind.

“That’s First General Augrys. Isn’t that who you were looking for?”

She made a sound of agreement—another lie—entranced by the scene before her. His uncanny speed matched the dancer, and sweat flew off of him like shining crystals. He blocked the dancer’s blades and struck back with his spear. It was a beautiful dance, one she realized she wasn’t invited to.

Because who the hell wasAugrys?

The fight seemed equal for a few seconds, but the dancer conceded a few steps, sending a blast of magic at August. August shielded it with a swipe of his hand and shot a spell of his own—a bright white beam. The dancer threw up a shield of its own, but the ray pierced through it as if it were paper. It bellowed in pain and held its shoulder, oozing dark matter. It retreated backward into the buildings, and August followed.

She moved; she couldn’t lose sight of him now.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Raf exclaimed.

“August,” she yelled.

August’s head whipped toward her, and she froze. His hazel eyes blazed in the fire’s light. His skin glistened with sweat, and she swore there was a glitter clinging to his skin. His blue jacket was coated in red and black blood—a mosaic of violence. He looked surreal in the moment, not a Fae, but a celestial being meant to be worshiped. She was at a loss for words. How had she come to know someone so powerful?

The words came to her slowly.

“We need to retreat,” she said, but her voice was lost in the sounds of battle.

His mouth moved, and she struggled to make out what he was saying.

She started running toward him again.

“Retreat,” she yelled. “We need to leave!”

The dancer lunged from the shadows, its swords thrusting toward his back like a viper. She shouted a warning, but August didn’t flinch. A magic shield shot up, stopping the attack. He glanced away from her for a moment, casting a spell at the dancer. A light fell upon it, eviscerating it in an instant.

But August had never been the one in danger.

Someone snatched her, dragging her into a rift in the air. The familiar tightness of shadowstepping constricted her, and she screamed. August appeared in front of her, reaching toward her. He was yelling her name, and although her mind screamed at her limbs to fight—to struggle—her body refused. The blood in her veins went cold as a familiar, unpleasant magic touched her. She had only ever experienced this once before.