Bright of the Moon (Dark-Elves of Nightbloom Book 2) by Miranda Honfleur

Author:Miranda Honfleur [Honfleur, Miranda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Miranda Honfleur Author
Published: 2021-01-29T16:00:00+00:00

Bella yanked at her arm in Gavri’s firm grasp as Dhuro and the others ran for the trees, but to no avail. He was hurt!

“Let me go,” she demanded, digging her heels in as she pulled.

Gavri didn’t answer but didn’t let go, her stance solid, stony. Dhuro and the other dark-elves were in danger! Didn’t she care?

A shadow squad of assassins chased them.

A glowing army closed in from the foothills.

A fleet of winged beasts and their riders descended from the night sky.

And from the entrances of the domus, monsters emerged, demonic and deadly, wings buzzing and eyes gleaming red. The maceddas.

Dhuro clutched at his side, where glistening blood seeped down his jerkin, and her heart twisted in her chest, pounding harder for every second he wasn’t in her arms. War, the legacy of her family, followed her everywhere. Even here. Even after Dhuro.

Trembling uncontrollably, she swept a shaky hand across her forehead. Every part of her screamed to do something, anything, but gods above, if she immobilized Dhuro as she had the first time, there was no telling what could happen. And she couldn’t risk it.

Couldn’t risk him.

As soon as he reached the woods, he took a silvery box from Valka—who had been injured too—and he tucked it into his jerkin. Only then did Gavri let her go.

She fell onto the ferns, into the dirt and roots, but scrambled up and ran to him. “Dhuro, are you—”

Before she could finish her question, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, then ran among the pines, deeper into the woods. Carrying her, his wounded side would only bleed more heavily.

“Dhuro,” she cried. “Put me down—I can run on my own!”

“Hush,” he hissed, so sharply that she heeded him. He picked up the pace, and she jostled atop him, catching only glimpses of what unfolded behind them.

The other dark-elves fled with them in teams of two. Past their swiftly running forms, the radiance of the janas crashed against the shadow of the human assassins before the foothills. The insect-like monsters from the domus clashed with the griffins and their riders, silhouetted against the moon.

A loud buzz trailed them, but she could only catch four glowing red pinpricks in the dark as she bobbed on Dhuro’s shoulder like a sack of stolen silver.

An eagle-like cry resounded above them, beyond the coniferous canopy. A griffin?

For a moment, the jostling stopped as they soared over a fallen pine. Dhuro raised a hand and gestured something. He landed hard, and she braced on his back as best as she could.

The teams of dark-elves broke off in different directions, roaring calls booming from each except Dhuro. He remained silent.

They were—they were leading the enemies away. Decoys, for her sake.

Dhuro and Valka injured. Zoran, Gavri, Marysia, Danika, Halina, and even Kinga risked their lives for her.

But the red pinpricks behind them, two sets of two, only grew bigger. Dhuro, she thought, as loudly as she could, the maceddas are still following us. They’re gaining. She listened hard, straining; this was much more difficult in her human body.

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