Reign of the Fallen (Reign of the Fallen #1)(51)
Lysander lunges toward me. Jax grabs my arm, but I shrug him off and stand my ground even as my heart bangs a warning against my ribs. The bear opens his mouth again, and this time, a pink tongue lolls out and swipes my outstretched hand.
It’s wet and sticky and disgusting—but there’s no mistaking the gesture for anything but friendly.
“You’ve found your second calling as a beast master,” Jax declares, a smile in his voice.
I shake my head, wiping my hand on my trousers. “I’m just lucky he understands me.”
“You can use the chain now. He trusts you enough,” Elibeth says, no doubt peering into the cellar. Unlike the other Crowther women, she can’t disguise the worry in her voice.
A long shadow darkens the floor as Simeon pokes his head in. “I can’t believe this is actually happening,” he mutters as I hold up the chain for Lysander to inspect. He grumbles deep in his chest, making Simeon flinch.
“This is just so we don’t lose each other in the Deadlands,” I whisper, leaning forward so Lysander will know my words are only for him. “But we really need to hurry.”
With a sigh that blows the hair back from my face and reeks of dead fish, the grizzly lowers his great shaggy head before me. I slip the chain around his neck, and thinking of the wounded bird again, I slip my fingers between metal and fur to make sure it isn’t too tight.
As I rub his neck, his scent tickles my nose. It’s a strangely familiar combination of cedar chips and vanilla, and something I can only describe as bear musk.
“Let’s go,” I murmur in the bear’s ear. He’s quivering all over, powerful muscles bunching like he’s dying to burst out of the cellar. “Soon as we’re in the Deadlands, we’ll let you lead the way.”
I’m definitely no beast master. My last words are completely lost on Lysander, who tears out of the cellar like he’s on fire, yanking me with him as I cling to the end of the chain.
Jax dashes after us, swearing. Simeon and Elibeth leap back, pressing themselves against the walls as we pass. I whisper a hasty prayer to Vaia that Meredy will stay alive long enough for us to reach her.
Two smashed urns and a ruined rug later, we’re charging into the night.
XVII
I’m not sure if anyone saw three necromancers and one huge bear leap into a gateway in the middle of a baron’s lawn by moonlight. Everything was a blur from the time we burst out of the Crowthers’ manor to the moment we arrived in the tunnel and Lysander slowed his pace enough to allow Jax and Simeon to jog briskly alongside us.
“So, about this Tabathy person,” I whisper, flashing Jax a teasing grin in the dimness of the tunnel. We won’t be able to say much once we’re in the Deadlands, unless we want the Shade-baiters to hear us coming. “The best six weeks of your life sounds pretty serious, even if it was secret. What happened?”
Jax shrugs. “She didn’t make me laugh. And she was leaving Grenwyr anyway, once she finished her training. She went home to Elsinor so she and her owl could take a position in the personal guard of some countess.” He scratches the back of his neck and looks away.
“You ever write to her?” I’m not quite sure why I’m suddenly curious, but I can’t suppress the urge to pry a little.
“Once or twice. I write to a lot of girls.” He winks. “I’m a man of many words. Maybe I’ll write to you one day, if you’re lucky.”
Simeon snickers under his breath, but I keep my attention on Jax.
I wish he’d hold my gaze a little longer so I could search his eyes. Maybe this bantering means things haven’t changed between us the way I thought they had. Vaia knows I’ve endured enough change lately to give King Wylding a fit.
Keeping a tight hold on Lysander’s chain with one hand, I use my other to touch Jax’s arm. “Any girl would be lucky to get a letter from you, dummy. Me included.”
“That so?” He looks my way. The sea in his eyes is restless, but after Simeon tosses us a curious glance, Jax keeps his tone light. “You don’t think, given recent events, that my time would be better spent writing to someone else?”
“Maybe. But your friends appreciate letters, too. We care, like it or not.” I smile. I’m not ready to give up my place in his bed, my only escape, just yet. I recall his earlier words and murmur, “Remember, some of us still need you, brother . . .”
“Just like we need you, Sparrow,” Jax whispers. Louder, he adds, “Who else would I write to about all my flaws and insecurities?” He grins, and a silent understanding passes between us. Even though we kissed, we’re already slipping back into our familiar roles as family. Just the way I like it.
“I want a letter from Jax of Lorness, too!” Simeon calls, amusement in his voice. “Assuming we all leave here alive, I’m going to need to hear more about whatever you two are really saying here.” He waves a dagger, eyeing us both. “One way or another.”
I roll my eyes and fall silent as the twilit glow on the horizon grows larger, signaling the start of the Deadlands.
Time moves differently here than in our world, so if we’re quick enough, there’s a chance Meredy might still be alive.
Lysander continues to strain against his collar, lending an extra quickness to my steps, but making me stumble so often that Simeon offers to take the chain for a while.