Nyx jerked her gaze up. Maluk was a few yards further down the trail. His hackles were up and his body was rigid. Another low growl rippled from him.
Helenia exited the cave, a wad of balled-up fabric in her hand, a grave expression on her face, but whatever she’d been about to say was cut off when she spotted her dog. “Maluk, what is it?”
Nyx was already at Maluk’s side. Her body went numb with fear as she stared down at the new tracks he’d found: pawprints the size of dinner plates, with imprints of wicked claws pricking the snow above each toepad.
Mooncat.
Too late, Nyx recalled the scent of old death that had permeated the cave, and realized what it meant. This cave was the den of a mooncat. It had returned after the blizzard, probably made hungry by the winter that had turned harsh unseasonably early, only to find its lair had been invaded. And now it was hunting down the invaders.
Tal was injured. Whoever was with him was injured. The scent of their blood would have left a trail, one invisible to the eyes of humans but clear as day to a predator. Mooncats were at the very top of the Skyteeth food chain, as large as the great white bears of the north and twice as territorial. Every year, a handful of mountain ward hunters fell prey to them—and those hunters had weapons, crossbows and daggers and ferocious hunting hounds. Tal was a superior fighter, but if he was injured, what chance would he have against a predator that outweighed him by a thousand pounds?
“We can’t go after them like this,” Helenia called, because of course Nyx was already hurrying down the path of trodden-down snow.
“I can and I will.”
Helenia hurried after her and grabbed her arm to stop her. Nyx meant to pause to explain herself, but instead saw her hand lash out, knocking her girlfriend back into the snow. Helenia yelped and winced when she landed. Nyx jolted. She hadn’t meant to do that. It had been as though her hand had been controlled by some outside force.
No. By some inner force. Her oath was reeling her across the valley like she was a fish on a line. She thought there was a decent chance the Destroyer was with Tal, and she knew Tal was at the end of these tracks; therefore, she had to follow them, because she had sworn to see the Destroyer dead.
Nyx’s lip curled in shocked abhorrence. Was this what the metal oath had been like for Tal? Like someone else controlled your body, like you were an arrow aimed at a target by some unseen hand? “Helenia, I’m sorry,” she said, but was unable to force her feet to stop moving. “I’ve got to go after them.”
Helenia sprang to her feet. “No, you don’t! You can’t take on the Destroyer and a mooncat on your own! Come with me—we’ll go back to the township, gather reinforcements first.”
“No,” Nyx grated out, “I mean, I can’t stop.” Quickly, as Helenia trotted to keep up, Nyx explained the oath she had made and why it was drawing her forward now. When she was done, Helenia stared at her for a long moment, then lifted her chin.
“So. You have no choice but to follow. But I have a choice. I’ll take the sled and get to the township and bring every man and woman who can carry a sword back with me. You take Maluk with you.”
“Maluk can’t help me take down the Destroyer and a mooncat.”
“No,” snapped Helenia. “But this way you’ll be forced to think about his safety before you do anything idiotic, if you won’t consider your own. If you get him killed I’ll never forgive you. There; now you have no choice but to keep the both of you safe.”
Nyx hunched her shoulders. Helenia was being sensible. It was far worse than when she yelled, because now Nyx couldn’t even argue or accuse her of overreacting.
“Okay,” Nyx said meekly.
Helenia swallowed, hesitated, and then spoke again more softly. “Nyx. How could you?”
Nyx wanted to shrivel and vanish beneath the broken accusation in Helenia’s voice. She knew that tone; it had been Nyx’s own tone for the last two years. How could Tal have left her? How could he have been so selfish as to gamble away his own life without a thought for what it would do to her? A metal oath was unbreakable, except by death or the fulfillment of its terms. It was stronger than blood, stronger than family. He’d chosen it over her. And now she’d chosen it over Helenia.
“I’m sorry,” was all Nyx could say. She meant it with every fiber of her being. But sorry as she was, she would still do it again, to save Tal. They both knew that truth, and so there was nothing left to say.
But then Helenia lifted the wad of bloodied fabric she was still holding. “There’s something you should know. This sleeve was used as a bandage. It has Tal’s silver blood on it.” She hesitated again. “Nyx—there’s also evidence of rust phage.”
At that, Nyx’s horror eclipsed all else, and her feet stumbled to a brief stop. “What?”
Helenia shook the torn-off sleeve out. One side was coated in red-brown blood, with bits of white fur—rabbit fur?—stuck to it. The other side was crusted silver with flecks of orangish crystals reminiscent of
