Above us, Etude and Ku’Sox met in a clash of talons and wings. Jerking, I watched as Etude tried to bite the back of Ku’Sox’s neck, and they fell, wings beating madly. Descending slowly, they crashed into the trees at the far end of the clearing. They were down.

My heart was pounding as I looked at Quen, hand extended. “Give me your ring.”

Taking my shoulders, he spun me around to the fight. “We can do this.”

Distrust blossomed in me. Do this, and I give you your freedom. I’d seen that in the history books before. Ku’Sox screamed, his black shadow rising up from the trees. Etude was bellowing from the woods, so he was still alive. Ku’Sox was coming right for us, his wings making the air shake, and yet Quen still stood, a green haze about his closed fist.

“Get down!” I shouted, ducking to crouch next to the retaining wall as Ku’Sox swooped over us, his huge claws reaching. The memory of seeing pixies slip down his throat rose up, and I cowered, the wall pressing into me. Fire lanced my shoulder, and I screamed.

“Immuluate!” Quen shouted, and I choked as the line raced through me, making the new rip in my shoulder burn like lava.

And then Ku’Sox was gone, swinging around for another strike. Hand clasped to my shoulder, I stood, watching his dark shape against the sky. He was playing with us.

“Rachel! Are you okay?”

I looked at Quen sourly as his enthusiasm paled. It was all I could do to not yell at him that no, I was not okay. “Fine,” I said, pushing at the edges of the cut and seeing very little blood.

“Maybe you’re right,” Quen said as we watched Ku’Sox turn and come back like a deadly pendulum. And then he brightened. “The line!” he said suddenly. “You can jump them. At least to the one in the garden. You can jump us both.”

My eyebrows rose. “You want me to jump a line? Carrying you? That’s what got us into this in the first place.”

“Down!” Quen said, his hand on my shoulder, and we flattened as Ku’Sox buzzed us again. I think he was enjoying himself, but he wheeled sharply, landing twenty feet away, wings outstretched and bill snapping loudly.

“You can do it,” Quen said. “If we’re sharing mental space, you can carry me. You know the signature. You just dumped the imbalance there. Even if Ku’Sox follows us, the gargoyles will help.”

Perhaps long enough for me to sit on him and make him take the slaver ring off. Beyond him, Ku’Sox snapped his beak and strode forward. I nodded—burning to death in the lines was better than being eaten.