The Shadow Queen (Ravenspire, #1)(34)

But first, no matter the cost, she was going to save the only family she had left.

She took off running east toward the distant campsite where Gabril lay dying.

Lorelai stumbled into their campsite at sunset the next day, her legs shaking, her body shivering since she’d lost her coat on a rooftop in Nordenberg, and her eyes burning from tears. Her boots crunched over dead leaves and brittle pine needles as she approached the tent where she’d left Gabril. It was dark. Silent.

Miserable heat spread from her chest to her throat, and she swallowed against the grief that thickened in her throat.

Was she too late?

Her heart aching, Lorelai lifted the tent flap quietly and braced herself for what she’d find.

It was empty.

She froze, and the ache of loss disappeared beneath a rush of heart-pounding fear. Where was he? Had someone taken him?

Lorelai dropped the tent flap and whirled to scan the area, trying hard to see a human-sized shape in the gathering dusk. Her hands shook as she called out, “Gabril? Are you here?”

There was no reply.

Sasha? Sasha!

For one agonizing moment, silence met Lorelai’s words. She was already moving, searching the ground beside the tent for any signs that could tell her where Gabril had gone.

Help. Hurry, hurry, hurry. The cold, precise thoughts of her bird arrowed into Lorelai’s mind, and she wanted to cry in relief.

Where are you? She sent back.

Sun.

Sun. Lorelai glanced at the quickly darkening sky and started moving west, following the last trace of sunlight as it slowly disappeared from the mountain. She walked for several minutes before she heard a soft thump-thump of wings, and her gyrfalcon swooped through the trees and perched on her shoulder.

Where is he? Lorelai asked as Sasha burrowed her face against Lorelai’s neck, her beak scraping against the princess’s skin.

Follow. Sasha’s talons dug into Lorelai’s shoulder as the bird pushed into the air and flew southwest.

Lorelai ducked low-hanging branches and skirted clumps of withered underbrush as she struggled to keep up with Sasha. Her heart thundered in her ears, but it couldn’t drown out the terrible thought that Gabril might already be dead.

Her bird crested a small hill and disappeared over the other side. Lorelai raced forward, afraid she was going to lose sight of Sasha in the shifting shadows of the day’s twilight. She reached the top of the hill, and then skidded to a stop as she saw Gabril lying on his back, his eyes closed, his chest bare despite the frigid weather.

“Gabril.” She choked on his name as she ran to him and dropped to her knees. He was burning up with fever, she could feel it even through her gloves, but his teeth were chattering. His eyes remained closed, his breathing shaky and faint.

She looked at Sasha. How did he get here?

Sasha cocked her head, her bright black eyes catching the first hint of starlight. Walk. Run. See things.

What things?

Things not there. An image of Gabril, wild-eyed and afraid, staggering from the tent, batting at the air as if fending off a foe, and then running in short, halting steps through the forest accompanied Sasha’s words.

Lorelai put the image and the words together and came up with the truth—hallucinations brought on by his high fever.

“Please,” she whispered as she laid her head against his shoulder, wincing at the heat of his skin. “Don’t leave me. I have no one else.”

She had no one else. The truth of that statement hit hard, stealing her breath and sending a bright shaft of pain through her chest with every heartbeat.

Her parents were gone. Leo was gone. All she had was Gabril, the man who had protected her and taught her how to protect herself. Who loved her and believed in her and was ready to sacrifice himself for her.

Lorelai wished with everything in her that she could sacrifice herself for him instead.

“Ada?” Gabril’s voice was nothing but a wisp of sound floating past his lips.

She lifted her head and found him gazing at the sky, a look of longing on his face. She frowned. Who was Ada?

“It’s me,” she said softly. “Lorelai.”

He blinked, a slow, dragging motion as if he barely had the strength to keep his eyes open, and then slowly focused his gaze on her. His smile was full of love and pride and confidence, and it broke her heart.

“My . . . queen,” he whispered.

Lorelai couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

His queen, whom he’d sacrificed everything for. Whom he’d rescued, protected, and raised to be the kind of ruler Ravenspire needed.

His queen who hadn’t been able to stand up to Irina long enough to save her brother.

She wasn’t going to make that mistake twice.

“Lorelai.” His voice was nothing but a breath now. “Stronger . . . than you think. Love you,” he whispered, his eyes closing.

Lorelai stared at him, her mouth working, trying to form the words “I love you” in return, but her mind was racing. Only a miracle would save him now, but miracles didn’t happen in Ravenspire.

Miracles didn’t happen, but magic did.

Lorelai tore off her gloves with quick, vicious movements as Gabril’s chest rose sharply, his breathing quick and shallow.

She laid her bare hands against the fevered skin of his chest and immediately felt the heart of him—the core of implacable strength and resolve that fueled him—surge weakly against her palm. It was faint. He was almost gone.