Deceit of Spirits

Chapter 14

That beautifully irritating brain of his malfunctioned. It was the only explanation for why Sebastian resisted Astrid's rather intelligent and very reasonable demand to flee from the colossal fire-breathing monster of Demue looming above their insignificant, flammable heads.

To be fair, his insubordination should not have surprised Astrid. Curiosity killed the cat, but she was beginning to wonder if it drowned bass, as well.

"Move!" she urged again.

Sure, Astrid had trained for battle the majority of her life. Hel, she had even conquered an elvish Elder not that long ago. Not to mention the famed warrior of the Court of Avylon whom she had tortured; yet being a fighter meant being smart, training her brain to use its intellect, analyzing the strengths and limitations of her skills.

Her opponent's, as well.

Which meant that defeating a ferocious dragon-shifter with nothing but a small dagger, fizzling elemental burnout, and a scholar whose choice of weapon would be a ridiculously thick non-fiction biography proved to categorize itself into the mental list that held her scarce limitations.

Because that was not some mechanical beast of Davina's imagination; it was the real thing. A creature that would certainly eat her if she dared to ride it.

"Bloody constellation, my arse." Her fingers clutched Sebastian's wrist so tightly that his bones ground beneath her grasp when he twisted away to stare up at the skies. What a complete and utter fool. "Stars do not fly, Bash! You are not an astronomer—!"

"I know. I already said that." Sebastian tugged at her again. His force dragged them both into a crouch behind a hydrangea bush that bloomed with unnaturally bright colors. Everything was color here; an easily visible target from a predator that lurked above, and Sebastian tugged them both straight into its bullseye.

Besides, since when had he grown strong enough to move her?

His breaths came quick and hot. "There's another Spirit in those woods, remember? I sensed two."

"Does the other one also have talons and smoking nostrils that could incinerate us? Because if not, I'll wager our chances—!"

He forced her argumentative head down as the massive shadow soared over them, coating their amethyst-tinted plant into shades of sooty gray. Astrid shoved at his heavy, protective arm, swiping out from under him when he tried to hold her in his hidden crouch. Once free, she remained low on her own accord, poised on the balls of her feet, legs vibrating with pent-up adrenaline. Her glare met his blazing cheeks, like two blaring solar flares that warned of encroaching danger.

No shi—

A petal from one of the hydrangeas tickled the hairs on the back of her neck. Her knife slashed the sneaky offender from its stem before it could dare touch her again. "Fat load of help a flower is going to be against a dragon, Seabass!"

His eyes gleamed in the indigo darkness, anxious pupils taking up the entirety of his struck-dumb gaze. "It's a large plant," he muttered, "not a flower."

"It's kindling!" She grabbed his face and tugged it to her, brows touching. Their breaths shuddered between them, the momentary stillness amidst the nearing battle oddly unnerving.

Sweet.

Sweet like burning sage that a crazy, malicious dragon set afire. Curse the Scribes! Her scoff burned her throat when his palm fell to her knee, a tumbling, flaming boulder searching for a place to rest.

Because they were both about to char.

She flicked him straight between the eyes. "Get a grip!"