The First King by Shameez Patel Papathanasiou

Author:Shameez Patel Papathanasiou
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: new adult; flame tree press; fantasy; modern fantasy; epic fantasy; Hunger Games
Publisher: Flame Tree Publishing
Published: 2024-05-24T16:37:40+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Six

Cassia

Their bones were broken beyond her understanding, beyond anything she’d ever seen before. Shattered into countless pieces, some of which she might not be able to put back together. What these Firsts had done to these hunters was unimaginable and cruel. The sheer strength it must have taken to do this was terrifying, aside from considering what type of person would be able to do it to someone innocent and fully conscious.

And these were the beings they were meant to fight, to defeat.

The man she healed next kept mumbling, mumbling about the royal guards, about them being too powerful. Even though there were only five of them, and more Reborns, they couldn’t hold their ground. He repeated it over and over, his voice muffled and varying in pitch.

It seemed as though it was the first time he’d been attacked by a royal guard. Which shouldn’t be a surprise; he was young, maybe nineteen years old, with snow-white skin and blond hair shaved close.

And he would have fewer fingers than he’d had when he’d left for this hunt. While she could mend most broken bones, and sliced skin, she couldn’t grow back a lost digit.

By the last Reborn, her magic waned and her mind wandered with dizziness and exhaustion. She tried her best to focus on healing, to pull the last of her magic, but it resisted. She glanced up and around the circle of people who were fixated on her every move. Lochlan and Lucas weren’t there.

The howl.

They’d gone after it. She was sure of this. It could have belonged to Ruq or Willis…. But it could also be a trap.

On more than one occasion, Lochlan had made her swear she’d summon him at the first sight of trouble.

But it bothered her to the depths of her stomach that he couldn’t summon her as well.

He was alive, for now at least. She could feel it in the sire bond that connected them, like a string pulling her ever so gently in his direction.

She became aware of this join between them when in her vision of his death, between her denial and agony, she’d felt it slacken until it disappeared.

Once the last victim was stable, despite the wounds that hadn’t finished healing, she fell back on the grass without a care for a soft landing. Her chest rose and fell as her magic threatened to leave her. She had never used that much of it and never asked for more once it cut her off.

She was afraid to. Especially after Lochlan’s warning.

A cup with steam rising from the top was held out to her like a lifeline by the man who tended to save everyone from themselves. Jun’s black hair flopped forward and as soon as she took the cup, he used his free hand to push his hair back across his head, where it would only stay for a minute or two.

The cup heated her hands to the point of numbness. She blew across the top, peeking over the rim to meet his gaze and hoping he could feel her gratitude.

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