“No!” I cried, lunging forward. But I didn’t know where to start.
James, beautiful, enigmatic James, hung by his feet from the center of the gazebo. His arms had been pulled wide to the sides, secured by ropes to the support posts.
His naked body glistened with sweat and blood.
It dripped in an impossibly slow measure into a shallow pool. A pool in which my staff lay drenched in his blood.
“James,” I said. Or whimpered. It was barely a sound. I fell to my knees and reached for him. He wouldn’t last much longer.
“Princess,” he whispered through parched lips.
“Shh. I’ll get you out of here.” But I had no idea if that was a promise I could keep.
I felt Akaros move behind me, felt the stillness of his breath that told me this was “movement with purpose” - and I was his purpose.
He brought his fist down toward the base of my neck - and would have struck me had I been a millisecond slower. As it was, his killing blow fell onto my raised staff, breaking it in half.