Wildheart by R. Dugan

Author:R. Dugan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: R. Dugan
Published: 2022-08-08T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

THE DAY OF the rematch dawned bleak and cold, precisely how Ashe’s insides felt while she dressed in the dim loft. She and Maleck slipped out before dawn to make their way to the lake, hastening through a burrow wyrm tunnel out of Middleton. Ashe’s paranoia turned the walls humid with ill intent, the anticipation of the day giving everything a slick, dark feeling, as if evil had gone running down the way before them. She was grateful to emerge on the plains and circle the pike wall to the lakeshore, ducking in where the foliage hid them; there she could remove her suffocating helmet and loosen the tight straps of her stolen Mahasari armor.

“I haven’t seen you this tense since you faced Rion Bartos during the peace talks.” Humor laced Maleck’s deep voice as he watched her settle across the narrow, well-concealed hedge—her back to one tree, his against another, their feet tangled comfortably in the space between them.

Ashe glared over her shoulder toward the mist-veiled lake. “I don’t like this.”

Maleck’s smile softened. “Regardless of any title given to you, you always carry the weight of the kingdoms on your shoulders. Let Rozalie help shoulder the burden.”

Ashe opened her mouth to answer, then hesitated, scalp prickling, skin tingling. Hushing Maleck with a cut of her hand, she rocked to her knees, peering at the lake.

Through the mist, he appeared.

God’s bones, she hated that face. It brought all the memories surging back: pain and false friendship and lies spun in the dark, cold rain on her face and how hard she’d fought the Mahasaris, nearly flung to her death by their ruthless hands before Bresnyar interceded.

With a shimmer of gold, the lake turned to a sea and a low growl rattled inside her skull. THAT RUTTING, YELLOW-BELLIED—

Ashe severed the connection. She needed to focus.

Kashar seemed to be alone, though that meant nothing; to his perception, Rozalie would be alone, too. While he limbered up with a series of shirtless stretches and exercises that bared the white scars down his tawny chest and torso, Ashe scouted the shore behind and around him for any trace of Enforcers who might be lurking nearby to ensure he didn’t gain any more marks today.

Maleck pressed closer, hand on her back. “He puts on quite the show for being alone.”

“Jealous, Mal?”

“That entirely depends on what you’re looking at.”

She shot him a grin. “Don’t worry. Watching you train takes all the excitement out of other men for me.”

Footsteps padded nearby, and Maleck drew away as Rozalie strode into view. She tossed her belongings carelessly by the hedge—a cloak, a knife belt, the key to Dorminger’s estate, and a waterskin. For a brief moment, through the foliage, her gaze met Ashe’s.

Trust me, Rozalie mouthed.

And Ashe did. But that made it no simpler to watch a friend stride down the shore to face Kashar az-Kyrian for the second time, her face still riddled with bruises from the first.

“You’re late, Raqian,” he remarked.

“Dawn is a broad term.” She

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