Chapter 33 · The Death That Never Happened

"Don't you dare die on me." Seraph hauled Kael out from under the collapsing beam, one arm locked around his waist. "You still owe me twelve executions."

His head rolled against her shoulder. Blood ran from his temple into the collar of his coat, and heat punched through the iron plates covering his chest.

"Seraph," he rasped.

"Good. You're awake. Move your feet."

"Can't."

"Then pretend you can."

The fortress burned around them. Red fire crawled across the ceiling. Stone cracked overhead, and burning fragments slammed into the floor hard enough to make her teeth click.

Kael tried to stand. His knees folded.

Seraph caught him before he hit the ground. His hand closed around her wrist, hot and rough, the grip stronger than it should have been for a man bleeding into her sleeve.

"Leave me," he said.

She shoved his arm over her shoulders. "You first."

"That's an order."

"You're not in command right now."

His breath scraped against her ear. Smoke, blood, and the bitter metal scent of his magic filled every breath between them.

"You always talk this much when you're scared?"

"You always get stabbed when I'm busy?"

"I wasn't stabbed."

"Your side is leaking."