Madness of the Horde by Zoey Draven

Chapter Forty-Three

Iwoke to a nudge.

My eyes opened slowly to hot pain pinning me to the ground. A cold snout was brushing against my arm and I saw the pyroki standing above me, nosing the rations of dried meat in a pouch attached to my belt. Rations I hadn’t eaten on the journey to the ancient groves because I simply hadn’t been hungry.

I tensed against the pain, which only made it worse. It felt like I was being branded by the Ghertun all over again except that hot poker was pressed against every inch of my flesh.

I willed my arm to move and tears leaked down my face as I detached the pouch, opening it and spreading the rations on the moss-covered ground beside me.

The pyroki ate immediately, gobbling up the small amount, as I looked above me. I was lying on my back at the base of the tree. It was night but I knew it wasn’t the same night. I’d been asleep again. Lost.

My mouth was dry, my lips cracked. Nausea built in my belly and now that I was awake, the bile rose and burned in my throat. Above me, the spot where I had dug Davik’s dagger into the tree was closed and healed…as if it had never been. As if what had happened when I’d used my gift on the tree had never been. As if Devina’s interference had never been.

I didn’t understand it. I didn’t understand anything—I was slowly beginning to recognize that. Lokkaru had been right. There were things in this universe that were beyond explanation and logic. Things that lurked and things that ached, like a festering wound.

I thought of Maman right then.

I thought of the way she had sometimes looked at me when she thought I couldn’t see. The fear in her eyes. Frightened of my gift, frightened of what it meant that she’d given life to me. Yet, she loved me. Deeply. Always.

The vovic was thickening. My limbs felt swollen with it. The fatigue was setting in. Another night had fallen. I’d slept the day away.

I had the familiar sense that I’d dreamed Davik’s memories again. Only whatever I’d dreamed had been…

Whatever I had dreamed made my mind feel numb. An ache had built in my breast. I swore I could still hear his cries, his choked, labored breathing. I knew it had something to do with Devina, with her death, perhaps.

Vomit rose in my throat and I managed to turn over, emptying bile onto the moss. My stomach cramped as tears streaked my face.

The only sounds in the clearing were the humming of the tree and the pyroki nibbling at the moss, searching for the last remnants of rations.

Then something pierced that quiet hush. Echoing towards me, though it still sounded far away.

“Vienne!”

I would recognize that voice anywhere.

“Vienne!”

I wondered how long he’d been searching for me.

Then Devina’s voice whispered in my mind, Perhaps his entire life.

I didn’t even tense when I felt her presence nearby. I didn’t even question it that I could hear her, that she could speak to me now, unbound by dreams. After everything I’d felt and experienced during my lifetime—and especially in the last month—how could I think anything was beyond the realm of possibility?

Because nothing was.

Hold on, Vienne, Devina whispered as I closed my eyes. Hold on and I will bring him to you.