Her wing throbbed, pain flashing down her back, reminding her of the unbearable agony of ripping out the iron.
A hand pressed to her back, and Maia jumped, but healing magic poured into her along with strength from Ark's touch.
"Don't assume the worst," he said calmly, but she could feel his unease.
"Stop," Azrail commanded again. He swallowed and growled, "As the Wolven Lord, I order you to stop."
Maia held her breath as the wolves shuddered, their orange eyes flashing. Surely, they'd recognise the ruler of all wolves? For a second, she thought they'd back off, or drop to their bellies in the dirt to show submission. But then lips curled back from the teeth of every wolf’s head, and they surged forward at once.
Maia's awareness of their souls spiked, so strong that she gasped, the feeling of them scraping down her arms like knives.
"I'll uproot all the trees," Az said quietly, intensely. "Stay out of the way."
Maia threw a panicked stare in every direction, seeing only glowing eyes and wicked teeth. The wolves' growls were so deep and loud that her ribs vibrated, her stomach tightening. She matched them with a snarl of her own, throaty and fierce, and didn't let her voice falter—didn't let the magic fade from her wordless snarl—even when twenty wolves snapped their heads around to stare at her.
She sure as shit hadn't escaped Ismene's torture to get ripped apart by three-headed wolves now.
She refused to die.
Her voice dropped deeper, vocal magic cresting into a wave that would have shattered the minds of any normal creature. But these wolves didn't play by mortal rules; they pushed through her magic like it was weak quicksand, and stalked closer.
Azrail snapped his arm out, pushing her back, back, back as a dark, bushy tree groaned and heaved itself out of the ground. Long branches whipped at the wolves, shedding leaves like daggers, and Maia’s breath caught.
"Holy shit," Kheir breathed as more trees shook off the earth they were planted in and stretched out their limbs, branches hooking around wolves and shoving them back from the clearing.
"How do we get out of here?" Ark demanded, keeping close to Maia.
"I'll make an exit," Azrail replied in a quiet, intense voice. "I'll push them away."
"There arehundredsof them, Az," Maia pointed out, magic in her voice and shivers down her spine. "There's no way out."
Shit!Magic wrapped around her voice in a low resonance as she spoke, and Maia’s face fell with horror as the wolves swelled in size. The canopy of branches closed overhead until the only light came from the wolves' glowing eyes and Maia's bright silver.
Those glowing pricks of orange became bigger, closer, until they were the only thing Maia could see.
"What happened?" Ark demanded, catching Maia’s waist. His face was etched with harsh lines and shadows. She swallowed, her eyes falling on the hawk inked on his throat.
She couldn't answer him. It made no sense; her snaresong twistedminds. It didn't twist reality, didn't close off every exit from a forest clearing just because she said it.
Orange light surrounded them as supersized wolves came at them from all sides, teeth snapping, throats full of snarls. But Maia's heart skipped when another growl joined the cacophony.
"No," she cried when Jaromir's dark jaguar form blurred past them, flying towards the wolves. Stopping them getting close toher.
"Move," Azrail boomed—at her and Ark, Maia realised, when a giant tree came thundering past, knocking her to the ground.
She hit the dirt on her back and screamed when pain coursed down her wing. The scream was so loud that her ears burst, her hearing fuzzy, and it was so full of magic that she choked on it.
She couldn't hear Jaro's growling, couldn't hear her mates' shouts. Dazed, she rolled over and flattened her palms on the ground, silver light spinning through the darkness when she pushed up to her knees. A gasp caught in her chest at the movement’s ripple through her wing, and pain blurred the world around her.
A fuzzywelpsounded near her ear, and Maia's stomach flared with acid and sickness. Was that her Jaro, her kitty? Had the wolves got him?
She struggled to move, could barely think for the pain blasting her apart. She needed some of Evrille's healing paste, needed Ark's soothing hands on her, but instead a cold, wet nose thrust into her face. Maia's breathing shattered. Jaro—he was here.
But when she lifted her hands to his neck, squinting through the pain and her muted glow—nowhere near as bright as it had been before she fell—her hands met thick fur instead of sleekness, and pointed, fur-tufted ears rather than rounded velvety ones.
"Shit," she breathed, or thought she did. Her hearing was all but non-existent.
She reached clumsily for a song about a sailor and a priest—not appropriate for taking down one of the most notorious mythological creatures, but it was all she had. A long, wet tongue licked from her chin up to her temple, and the words died in her throat.