Exiled by Nina Croft

the crescent moons high overhead. Shayla and Freya stood immediately in front of her as if to give her some protection. Beyond them, Callum, Tallon, and Jarrod were arrayed side by side. All held swords in one hand and their staffs in the other. They were fighting furiously against what appeared to be an overwhelming number of opponents. Already in front of them, bodies littered the ground. The stench of fresh blood saturated the air.
    Giving another glance around, she pulled herself up onto her knees. A tremor ran through her limbs, but was recovering fast. In front of her, Freya peered over her shoulder, relief blossoming on her face as she saw Cass was conscious.
    Two men fought Callum. At least she could try and help. She reached under the cloak and drew her pistol, aimed it at the nearest bad-guy. But when she pulled the trigger, all she got was a sad clicking sound.
    “Shit.” She shifted her grip and hurled the pistol at the man’s head.
    It caught him in the face, distracting him sufficiently for Callum to slice through his throat. The man crumpled to the ground to add to the body pile but another took his place. Beyond him, Cass could see more men spilling out from beyond the tree line.
    Too many men. And more worrying, a group stood in a circle at the edge of the clearing, their staffs touching. The air hung heavy with the low chant of a warlocks’ spell.
    “Use the magic,” Freya called out to her.
    Did she dare? She swiveled around to find Callum. By now, he was almost hidden behind the attacking warlocks. The majority appeared to be targeting him. Others were keeping Jarrod and Tallon at bay, but they surrounded Callum.
    She tried to focus her mind, but fear and doubt forced down the magic.
    Then Callum caught her gaze. For a second, everything stopped. There was so much love in his face, so much understanding, and inside her, the walls of her barricade trembled.
    Then he lowered his sword.
    What the fuck was he doing? Cass leaped forward, but even as she moved one of his attackers lunged, thrusting his sword through Callum’s heart. He crashed to the ground and lay unmoving.
    “No!” She screamed and reached for her magic. At the last second, she caught herself and tempered it. Even through her raging grief and her disbelief, she controlled her fury. Beside her, Freya stretched out a hand. The warlocks surrounding Callum flew into the air as if lifted by invisible hands. They hovered for a second before slamming into the group of chanting warlocks, knocking them to the forest floor.
    Cass raced the last few feet to where Callum lay on his back, his eyes closed. She collapsed to her knees beside him, reached for him with a trembling hand. Her fingers traced down his cheek and his eyes flickered open.
    Hope flared in her mind, but rapidly swamped by confusion.
    He’d taken the sword direct through his heart; no one could survive that.
    Callum’s hands twitched, and then lifted to the sword still in his chest. He tugged it out and tossed it aside.
    “How?” she asked.
    “It’s hard to kill the dead, and I died a long time ago.” She reached for the front of his shirt and dragged the sides apart. A ragged wound marred his chest but even as she watched, the edges began to knit together. “You knew this would happen?”
    “I knew.”
    “Then why?” Though she had an inkling; he’d always been a devious bastard.
    “You needed to know.”
    “I needed to know what exactly?”
    “That you wouldn’t lose control. That you would do the right thing no matter what.” His lips curved into a slight smile. “That I’m already dead—so it’s pointless worrying about me dying again. That it’s safe to let me past your impressive defenses.” Her eyes narrowed. She hated being manipulated. “Yeah, well, maybe if I had let you beyond my defenses, we’d now be sitting here among the charred remains of a completely dead world.”
    “You know that’s not true. Search inside yourself.” She took a deep