The only thing in the world she had left was Teutas.
“I have to find Teutas,” she whispered, grasping Nollaig’s hands. “Please. We need to find him and get him to the safety of the caverns.”
“If that’s what’s going to get you moving again, then that’s fine with me.” Nollaig nodded. “Teutas was assigned to the front line of the eastern side. We’ll find him there.”
They took off through the camp together. They passed so many ashen bones of former warriors, of former friends. It was impossible to tell how many had died. Most were nothing more than a pile of charred remains. Tarrah didn’t even try to count the piles. She didn’t need to. The barren, ashen landscape was enough to tell her that most of the army had been lost.
And some were still dying.
A new bolt of lightning ripped across the sky. Thick black clouds spit large flaking mists onto the tents spread out on the northeastern corner of the camp. Tarrah ran. That was where Teutas was. His tent was one of those shivering in the wind beneath the churning clouds spitting out snow-like ash.
But this was no snow, Tarrah knew, even if she had never seen a single fleck in her life. It was death.
“Tarrah, no!” Nollaig shouted from behind her. “We cannot go that way!”
“Teutas!” she screamed back, but her voice got snatched up in the wind and tossed away.
Nollaig charged after her and grasped at the loose sleeve beneath Tarrah’s grey scales. The material got caught between her fingers, but then it ripped away. Tarrah kept rushing forward. She would not be stopped. A newfound strength solidified her bones. For the first time in a long while, her mind was clear.
She had to find Teutas.
“Tarrah, we will die if we go into the storm,” Nollaig shouted again.
Tarrah didn’t care. She raced ahead of Nollaig, reaching the cluster of northeastern tents just as another crack of angry lightning snapped through the sky. It lit up the night, drenching everything in white. She spotted Lorcan and Reyna in the center of it all. The Shieldmaiden gestured wildly as the Ruin drifted down on top of them.
She opened her mouth to shout their names, but her eyes were caught by movement at the edge of her vision. Several figures were stumbling through the camp. She twisted toward them, gasping at once. Teutas, eyes wide, cheeks blanched, was hobbling straight toward her. He was surrounded by several more warriors. Not a single one of them moved with the strength and dexterity she knew they had.
“Teutas?” she called out, taking a step toward him. But Nollaig grasped her shoulder and pulled her back. A black flake fell onto the ground just before her feet, and it sizzled, scorching the dirt.
“We need to go, child. We are far too close to the storm.”
“But Teutas,” Tarrah cried out, tears bursting from her eyes. “He needs help. He’s—”
“He’s gone, Tarrah,” Nollaig said softly. “He cannot be saved. Look at him. He’s already been hit by it.”
“NO!” Tarrah screamed, and then threw herself forward. Nollaig clamped down harder on her arms, dragging her back. Tarrah thrashed against the hooded fae, desperately trying to reach her lover’s side. Her future lover’s. The male Unseelie had shown to her. The one he’d promised would cherish her, fight for her, and give her his seed. Unseelie had given her visions of the two of them in love, forever entwined. They’d never even had a single kiss.
The Ruin cannot take him from me!
Suddenly, Teutas stumbled to a stop, catching sight of Tarrah. He gave her an odd smile, and then spread his hands wide. At once, his arms began to disintegrate. His grey scale armor turned to ash, drifting away on the harsh and bitter wind. Darkness spread across his body, reaching up to his chest like fingers of death. Slowly, every single part of him transformed. His eyes were last. The terror in them was the last thing Tarrah saw of Teutas Rains.
She fell to her knees, sobbing. Pain shook her body. Her heart felt cleaved in two. Nothing would ever be the same after this. They’d lost the army. They’d lost Teutas. They’d lost the war with the Wood Court before it had even begun. The shadow fae would never be a part of Tir Na Nog ever again. Tarrah knew this truth deep within her gut. It had all been a lie.
“Come, child,” Nollaig said, gently wrapping her arms around Tarrah and lifting her from the ground. Tarrah’s arms and legs dangled limply, her head lolling against Nollaig’s chest. The hooded fae carried her away from the Ruin. Tarrah let her. She no longer had the strength to fight.
“It’s all right,” Nollaig murmured. “I’ve got you.”
Unseelie had lied to her.
28
Reyna
The Ruin whipped through the night with the ferocity of a dragon’s fiery breath. The ash had already begun to rain down, big black flakes that sizzled when they hit the dirt. Across the camp, Teutas stumbled forward and shattered into the wind. Tarrah watched on, screaming and falling to her knees.
Reyna pressed her lips together as she glared at Lorcan. “Go with Tarrah and Nollaig. Or go into the caverns. I don’t care which, just stay out of the path of the Ruin.”
She knew he wouldn’t listen. He was being just as stubborn as she was. All she could do was try to draw the Ruin to herself, away from Lorcan and the rest of the camp.
With one last deep breath, she wrapped her hand around her mother’s ice glass ring, where it hung around her neck on a chain, and whispered to the sky, “Please help me, Dagda. Please don’t let him die.”
She rushed into the storm. Wind bashed her face, twisting her long, loose strands into knots. Gritting her teeth against the force of it, she continued to press on, putting distance between her and Lorcan. Ash tumbled down upon her. It fell onto her skin, dozens of black flakes at once. For a moment, she paused and stared down at her arms, fearful that she had been wrong. Perhaps it had been a fluke when she’d stepped inside the storm at Feurach Fortress. Perhaps she wasn’t immune to the Ruin at all, and she would die in these strange, dark lands, along with thousands more.
She gripped her mother’s ring tighter, the cold ice blazing against her palm. She’d always wanted to be buried in ice. If she died here now, her ashes would scatter into the wind. Even in death, she would never return to her kingdom.
“Reyna,” Lorcan growled at her side. “What in the name of the Dagda are you doing?”
She whipped her head toward him, her heart in her throat. Fear twisted in her gut like a venomous snake, and it had already sunk its teeth into her blood. Tears filled her eyes at once. “I told you to run, to get out of here!”
“And I told you I’m not leaving your side!” He held up his bare arm where several flecks of Ruin had dropped onto his skin.
Reyna gasped and stumbled back as more ash hit his face. She watched in horror, bracing herself for the inevitable. She knew what would happen next. She had seen it a hundred times by now. It would start small. A sizzle where it hit him. And then the darkness would start to spread throughout every part of him. In the end, there would be nothing left.
Lorcan would burn away, leaving nothing behind but a pile of ash.
She cried out in rage, ripping her hand away from the necklace and launching herself on top of him. She threw him to the ground with a strength she didn’t know he had. She spread herself on top of him, shielding his body from the Ruin. Even though it was no use. Even though he’d already been hit. Great sobs shook her body, but still she remained.