“They’re gone. Let’s cut our losses and get the people back there to safety. We did what we set out to do by forcing them to run,” I say, but Laurel growls in frustration.

“We need to find them and take them out!” she hisses through gritted teeth.

I’m about to reassure her we’ll search for them tomorrow, when arrows fly toward us. One catches me deep in the thigh, but I barely feel it as I race to cover Laurel with my body. I’m struck in the shoulder and in my lower back before Laurel’s magic wipes out the arrows still flying and the archers with one blood-curdling shriek. I grunt in pain before standing and helping Laurel up.

Fionn and Silene have both also been struck, though the arrows seem to have only skimmed across their flesh. Laurel’s okay, and that releases some of the tension coursing through my veins. I rip out the three arrows, hissing in pain and realizing the actual tips remain inside my flesh, then stalk toward Fionn to heal him. When I hold my hand against the wound on his outer arm, I can’t feel the magic rise to my call. I realize my access to the aether has diminished. I try to conjure light, but it sputters.

“Iron arrows,” Fionn hisses before walking away to survey Silene’s injured arm.

Laurel growls behind me, the sound animalistic and so unlike her, and I turn to see a group of fae led by none other than Krantz advancing toward us with weapons and magic. Laurel aersteps to my side, bringing Silene and Fionn to us in the same movement. Her eyes rove over the wounds on my shoulder and thigh, and she bares her teeth, a low hiss coming from deep in her throat. Her eyes are pure black, filled with a feral rage, and I understand. Had our roles been reversed, and she was the one losing blood right now, I’d be lost in the primal urge of the mating bond.

As Krantz and his group of dozens of fae surround us, Laurel replaces my light shield with her own. It’s so thick it lights up the entire canyon around us, as if it’s daytime. Weapons and magic slam into it, but it doesn’t budge. She tries to heal the wound on my shoulder, but it won’t work until the iron barb has been removed. She roars out in frustration, completely lost to the fury incited by an injured mate.

“I’m okay,” I soothe, trying to break through the animal-like rage that’s consumed her. “Let’s aerstep away and focus on helping the valley.” She makes a low gravelly noise and only shakes her head.

“Krantz,” she growls, and I know we won’t be able to convince her to leave when she has the opportunity to take him out.