Sharon Shinn - Reader And Raelynx

“I’m not sure. I don’t know much about injuries. I think he’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Someone taught you how to bind a wound,” Justin commented. “We can’t do anything else for him until we get help.”

Amalie came to her feet, slowly, shakily. She put her hand out and Cammon took it. She was so cold she was trembling. Or maybe she was trembling with fear and shock. But she was trying hard to remain calm, to not fall to pieces. “What’s happening now?” she asked Cammon, and her voice was almost steady. “What do we do next?”

Cammon pulled Amalie closer, into a true hug, but kept part of his attention on the raelynx. The big cat seemed to have lost its bloodlust and was now consumed with curiosity. It trotted from corpse to corpse, sniffing at its fallen foes and occasionally licking down a bright swath of blood. “Do you have complete control of him?” he asked her quietly. “Or should he be our next point of concern?”

“He’s fine,” she said with a touch of impatience. “What’s happening at the palace? Can you tell?”

There had been so much action here the past few minutes that Cammon had had no attention to spare for the rest of the compound, but now he let his mind skip through the palace grounds, seeking information. Instantly, he picked up good news. “The city guard is here!” he exclaimed. “Five hundred men. All the attackers are dead or disabled, but Tayse and the other soldiers are going through the palace, double-checking.” He grimaced. “Bodies everywhere.”

“What about our losses?” Justin demanded as he rose to his feet.

“I can’t tell. None of us have fallen.” He could pick up clear, if weary, signals from Tayse, Senneth, Kirra, and Donnal, and he sent them all a strong message in return. Justin and Amalie and I all live.

“Ellynor?” Justin asked fearfully.

Normally he wouldn’t be able to answer that question, but Senneth had apparently anticipated his need to know. She had grabbed hold of someone’s arm and tried to convey a single word of reassurance. “She’s with Senneth.”

Amalie stirred in his arms, tilting her head back. “My father? Valri? My uncle?”

“Valri’s alive,” he said-and then hesitated, because Valri had crumpled into misery. Now he felt alarm from Senneth and a sudden deep stab of grief from Tayse. He pulled Amalie so close that she had to struggle for breath, and he shared a look of utter dread with Justin.

“Tir is dead,” he whispered. “And the king with him.”

SENNETHhad never in her life seen a sight so strange as that of Amalie running across the lawns of the palace after the skirmish was over. The princess was filthy, spattered with dirt and blood; her beautiful hair was a tangled mess of color. Ahead of her strode Justin, his sword still in his hand, his face as grim as ever Tayse’s could be. Cammon hurried next to her, holding her hand tightly in his-perhaps just to help her over the corpses littering the field, perhaps to fill her with whatever comfort he could muster.

The red raelynx loped lazily beside her, his body so close to hers that his fur brushed against her soiled dress. He looked around with bright interest, sniffed the air, noted every fallen body, located every living soul. Even on this day of so much loss and destruction, there was something spellbinding about him, something mesmerizing. Senneth’s head was ringing with pain and for a moment she thought she might be imagining the presence of this feral creature, so unexpected, so unlikely. She stared at him, briefly losing track of everything else in the dazzle of his elemental beauty.

Then Amalie came closer, and Senneth could see the tears streaking the princess’s dirty cheeks, and she realized that the awful message she had come forward to convey had already been delivered. She had never been so grateful for Cammon’s ability; these were words she had not wanted to be the first to speak.

She should have greeted the princess as majesty . She should have placed her fist against her shoulder as a mark of reverence and respect. Instead, Senneth gathered the girl in a close embrace and whispered in her ear, “Amalie, Amalie, I am so sorry.”

For a moment, Amalie clung to her, and then she pushed away. Her face was pale, her lips bitten through, but she wore an expression of proud determination. “What happened?”

“Too many attackers, and he was in an open room,” Senneth said, but she could hardly take her eyes off the raelynx. It had dropped to his haunches and was staring up at her with an unwinking gaze. Was Cammon holding it? Was Amalie? How had it gotten free? Was it safe? Was that blood on its whiskers? “Wen went down-though she’s alive-and Tir battled so hard. Coeval and I fought our way into the room, but there were so many of them.” She took a deep breath. “Once Tir was dead, the king fell. But only once Tir was dead.”

Justin nodded at the fresh soldiers roving the field, seeking for the wounded among the fallen, identifying friends, making sure that enemies were dead. “What alerted the city guard? Your fire on the walls?”

Senneth almost smiled at that. “Your wife. No one saw her as she slipped out of the gates and ran for help.”

Justin only nodded, but Senneth saw pride in his eyes. “And she’s safe?”

“Unharmed. As are Kirra and Donnal. Kirra’s with Wen, and Ellynor has been called to the ballroom, where they are bringing in our wounded men. We do not have nearly enough healers.”

“Hammond’s in the sculpture garden. He might be-he was alive when we left. Someone must go to him.”

Senneth nodded. “I’ll tell Milo.”

“Where’s my father?” Amalie asked.

Senneth gave her a compassionate look. “Valri is with him. You might not-”

Amalie’s voice was almost cold. “I will go to him.”

“I’ll take her,” Cammon said in a soft voice. As soon as Amalie had pulled free of Senneth’s hug, Cammon had taken her hand again. He had the ability to keep despair at bay-Senneth had seen him do it-but she was not sure even Cammon’s magic was enough to buoy Amalie through the next few hours, the next few days. “Where is he?”

“Where he fell. The great dining hall.”

Amalie nodded regally and swept forward, still flanked by Cammon and the raelynx. Senneth stared after them and then turned to Justin.

“What in the silver hell happened?” she demanded.

He shook his head. He had pulled out a cloth and was wiping blood from his blade but he didn’t look like, even once it was clean, he planned to sheathe it anytime soon. “We took shelter in this little alcove in the sculpture garden. About a dozen men stormed us-we were in a good position and able to fend them off until Hammond got hurt. And then more came.” He shrugged, but Senneth could imagine the grimness of the scene. “I knew I would not be able to keep them at bay much longer. Cammon was fighting in Hammond’s place-”

“Cammon? He’s never killed a man in his life.”

“Well, he killed three today. But he’s no Rider. I knew we would all be dead within minutes. And then-that creature came howling into the garden.” He shook his head. “You think you’ve heard it, when we were traveling on the road or when you were walking by its enclosure some afternoon when it was hunting. But, Senneth, you never heard anything like this. It went after those men, one after the other-just slaughtered them and moved on. I knew the attackers would all be done for, but I thought we might be, too.”

“Cammon says she can control it.”

“Well, it sure looked that way to me.”

“So-now-well, what? ” she demanded. “She thinks to keep it out of its garden? She thinks to keep it by her side like some kind of lapdog? Or to let it roam the palace grounds at will?”