Chapter 11 · What tone?

"What tone?"

"The one that makes it sound like you mean something else."

The hunter tore free from the tendril and charged again.

Lyra cursed and spun away. Its blade scraped her coat, cutting the leather near her waist. She stumbled, and the creature drove her backward until her shoulders hit the cavern wall.

Its arm locked across her throat.

"Tell him," it growled. "Tell the false king what waits beyond the gate."

Lyra's hands clawed at its wrist. "Kaelen!"

I saw the blade in the creature's other hand rise toward her chest.

The cavern narrowed.

The dust disappeared. The broken stones disappeared. All I could see was Lyra trapped beneath that arm, her face turning red, her boots scraping for balance.

My hunger surged.

The hunter's body lit up in my sight.

Not with color. With openings.

Weak points pulsed beneath its hide. The joint in its shoulder. The cracked place behind its mask.