Page 48 of Fallen Nocturne

I examine her wound. It’s bad. The blade went deep, possibly striking something vital. She needs a healer. Soon.

“I can get you to Völundr. There are healers there.” I press my hand over the wound, trying to slow the bleeding.

“No.” She grabs my wrist. Her grip is surprisingly strong.

Footsteps echo through the tunnels above us. There are several sets now. The warriors are spreading out and searching the passages systematically.

“Then where?” I ask.

The informer reaches into her cloak with trembling fingers and pulls out a small carved token. She presses it into my hand. “Greenvale. I have a sister at the Painted Moth. She’ll help.”

The Painted Moth. I know that place.

“That’s two days’ travel,” I mutter.

She won’t make it two days. We both know this.

“There’s another way,” I say slowly. “I can call my wyvern. She can carry you out, get you somewhere safe while I lead them away.”

Her grey eyes widen. “They’ll shoot her down.”

I shake my head. “Not if I keep them busy.”

She studies my face. “Why? We’re... not friends. Barely allies. I sold you information. That’s all.”

“You fought beside me.” I tighten my grip around the hilt of my blade.

A faint smile touches her mouth. “Business decision. I can’t collect payment if the client dies.”

“I gave you three bags of gold, and you’re still here.” I raise an eyebrow.

We stare at each other. Then something shifts in her expression, reluctant and almost amused.

“Just so you know, I stole your last bag too, but I left you some coin. I’m not heartless.” Her smile widens.

I laugh despite myself.

The footsteps draw closer. Voices carry through the tunnels now, calling to one another as the warriors coordinate their search.

I make my decision.

I reach for Dorcha through our bond. She is far away, but she feels me immediately and answers with a surge of alertness. I send her images, Elle’s face, the underground stream and the cave beyond it, followed by a simple command.

Find her, take her and fly her to safety.

“This is stupid,” Elle whispers. “You’ll die.”

“Maybe.”

“I still don’t understand why,” she insists.

“Neither do I.” I glance toward the approaching footsteps. Maybe some foolish part of me thinks that saving one person today will balance out all the people I couldn’t save yesterday.

Dorcha’s presence grows stronger. She’s coming fast.

“When she arrives, you grab on and don’t let go. Understand?” I wait until her eyes meet mine.

The informer nods weakly.