Jon clutched his side, stumbling down the long, stone hallway. Guards dressed in black uniforms with bright feathers painted on their breastplates pressed themselves against the wall so Jon and his crew didn’t touch them. They all believed he had some kind of plague, and none of them wanted a human in their prison anyway.

  “You’re a damn genius, Thomas.” Jon leaned heavily on the younger man.

  “We can’t ever return to this city, Captain.” Thomas kicked open the door to find rainy drizzle over the foggy metropolis. “Took selling nearly everything we had to bribe that idiot.”

  “At least it worked. We have to find Jàden.” Jon couldn’t feel more than a hint of her now, only anger and bitterness suffocating everything within him.

  “Found this near the bathhouse.” Thomas held out one of her daggers, blood dried against the blade. “I’m sorry, Captain. Couldn’t find her or Ashe anywhere.”

  Jon picked up the dagger, the pain in his heart echoing the day he’d seen his family’s ashes. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t protect his family. Not his sisters, not Mather.

  And now Jàden was missing.

  “She better be alive.” He growled and flung the knife, the blade slamming into a nearby tree. This was Malcolm’s fault, and the anger ripped through his chest as he tackled the old man to the ground and clutched his neck.

  Tears burned in his eyes, but the merest whisper of her soft breath wove through his skin. It had to mean she wasn’t gone yet, but that didn’t explain the swallowing darkness unless Frank had done something to her.

  The pain in Malcolm’s eyes reflected his own. “Forgive me, son. I didn’t know she was your wife.”

  “No one knew!” Jon clenched his jaw to rein in his anger.

  “Those two better be alive, or you and I have a real problem.” As much as Jon wanted to beat the shit out of him, Malcolm was a damn good tracker. If anyone could find Jàden, he could.

  He retrieved Jàden’s knife as the prison guards lined up behind them, likely to usher them out of the city.

  His horse pressed a soft nose against his cheek and snorted his displeasure. No more familiar saddle on his back, just a blanket and Jon’s bags laid on top with Jàden’s. “Sorry, buddy. Wasn’t my fault this time.”

  Jon climbed onto the stallion’s back and shoved her knife into her bags where it wouldn’t accidentally cut him. His fingers traced across her clothing, and the pain of loss tightened his heart again. Whatever had a hold of him was like a bad sickness sucking the light from his body.

  “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  With no idea where to go, they returned to the bathhouse.

  Malcolm hadn’t said a word, the root of his silent brooding likely his guilt. It took him damn near an hour, but he finally found norshad hoof prints that led to the river.

  “Two sets of prints,” he muttered as they reached the other side. “Lotta smaller horses here, leading the way, looks like.”

  Jon’s conscious thoughts slipped in and out as they followed the tracks. He jolted awake hours later, no idea where he was except somewhere deep in the jungle. Flames crackled from a nearby fire, root potatoes roasting on a set of skewers.

  “Cigarette,” he muttered, trying to sit up.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Rest, Captain.” Theryn laid a hand on his shoulder and tried to keep him down. “You can’t keep pushing yourself.”

  “Give me a damn cigarette!” He tried to swat Theryn’s hand away.

  Someone stuck a cigarette in his mouth, and he sucked in a lungful of smoke, the pain in his chest easing.

  “Jàden.” He forced himself upright, leaning against a large boulder. “Where is she?”

  “Has he asked about Ashe, yet?” Andrew paced on the far side of the fire, fists clenched around a set of daggers so tight the deep brown of his skin turned pale. “My brother is missing too.”

  Theryn rolled his eyes. “We found two of éli’s men dead. They’re over by that tree, weapons stripped and left where they fell.”

  The air went out of Jon’s lungs. He couldn’t seem to get a single thought straight in his head. If éli had her, she was in far more danger than she might be with Frank. He grabbed Theryn’s shirt and pulled him close enough that he could see the rain misting across his umber cheeks.

  “Tell me éli doesn’t have my wife.” He was going to kill that mother fucker.

  “Captain!” Thomas drew his sword as several bright blue birds flew together and melted into the shape of a short, bald man with a long beard.

  Jon stumbled to his feet and gripped his daggers, the trees spinning as he tried to focus. The rest of his men circled around the stranger, his bowmen with arrows ready to fire.

  The shifter held up his hand, a piece of cloth between his fingers. “I bring you a message from the Guardian Herana.”

  “Where is she?” Jon growled then bit his tongue. He didn’t need to scare the man off before he spoke, but Andrew and Malcolm disappeared, likely to find any other shifters lurking in the trees.

  “You are Jon,” the bald man said and pushed up his sleeve, a zankata inked into his skin.

  “Mother fucker.” He let go of his daggers. “Where the fuck is she?”

  The man held out his hand, revealing a piece of her shirt with the bloodflower on it.

  Jon turned it over, bloodflower on one side, “We’re safe” on the other. It definitely belonged to Jàden. “You still ain’t answered my question.”

  “The man was poisoned by Rakir and fights to stay alive. Alida is taking them all to Veradóra, three days’ ride if you follow the wind.” He crouched next to the fire and drew a makeshift map in the mud. “You are here. The Rakir are here. You must travel the flooded plains to here—Veradóra.”

  Jon crouched beside the man to study the map as it related to the road. éli had tried to kill another of his brothers, and the anger burned black inside his heart. He was going to have to put that bastard in the grave if he ever hoped to have a moment of peace.

  “Jàden and Ashe weren’t kidnapped.” Theryn tightened his jaw and eased the tension on his arrow.

  “They followed,” the bald man said. “She is Herana, always safe with the Tahiró. Follow the wind. You will find her.” He broke apart into a flock of birds and disappeared into the trees.

  But Jon clenched his fist, and the slick magic flowed like oil in his veins.

  “He was telling the truth.” Thomas cursed under his breath and sheathed his sword. “If éli’s ahead of us, he might find them first.”

  Jon tossed his spent cigarette aside and followed the lines of the map. The alternate route would take them several days to find Jàden. But with éli ahead, they could run into trouble. And damn if Granger wasn’t nearly as good a tracker as Malcolm.

  “By her own hand, she’s safe for now,” Jon muttered. “Keep on éli’s ass. Time to pay him back for what he did to Mather and Ashe.”

  A wave of dizziness crashed over him as he fell to his knees, darkness sliding through his veins on a wave of rage.

  “What the fuck is happening to me?” he said.

  “We don’t know, Captain.” Theryn poked the ground with one of his arrows, a rare serious expression on his face. “We thought it might be poison, but then Dusty spotted this.”

  “Think this might have something to do with it.” Dusty forced open Jon’s fingers.

  Black and smoky flecks drifted away from Jon’s palm. A single white spark twisted upward then dissolved into the afternoon air.

  Another bond—not his. Was it possible?

  He cursed under his breath. He’d never known éli to possess power like the high council, so it must have been whoever Jàden was with now.

  “Someone else bonded her.” Or as she would say, tied their energy.

  An engine roared in the sky as orange light filtered through the canopy. One of Frank’s ships still searching for her, about the only good news he had right now. If she got trapped in a sky beast, he might never find her. Plus, he wasn’t sure how to kill Frank yet without learning how to use one of those weapons.

  Jon closed his hand and leaned his head back. His chest tightened like a vice.

  The blackness gripped his senses as he closed his eyes, trying to hold on to that single spark of light and Jàden’s soft, sweet breath on his skin.

  Jàden’s voice came back to him from the bathhouse, adding a layer of clarity. If I lose control of my power, you’ll die.

  Maybe this wasn’t a bond but a loss of control.

  “Jàden’s in trouble,” he whispered, his cheek hitting the mud.