Thea could barely feel her right leg when she woke.

Smoke choked her lungs, the tang of scorched flesh causing bile to rise in her throat. The air was thick with dust and ash, obscuring much of her view. Her hand brushed another as she fought to sit up. The long nails and feel of frosty porcelin skin told her it was Raina, and she was dead.

Thea groaned as she managed to push herself up, staring down at her leg. Her knee was at least dislocated, if nothing else. She cursed and grabbed her sword, using it to struggle to her feet. It was obscenely quiet—either that or her eardrums were blown. By the time she was able to find her footing, fireflies were flickering in the dim light. Their flashes made her head hurt, and she fought to continue making ground.

That was when she saw it. Violet, unblinking eyes stared at her through the dark. The glint of a beak and the twitch of wings sent alarm bells blaring in her head. Her free hand snaked towards her dagger, shakily gripping it. The griffin clacked its beak, a dissatisfied hum echoing from its chest.

“Well, looks like we found a live one.” A deep voice rumbled as a figure dismounted from the griffin and crept forward. It was too dim for Thea to see his features, other than that his height reached the griffin’s head. “Put the weapon down, she won’t attack unless you threaten her.” He commanded. His tone vaguely reminded her of the captain—a voice used to his charges obeying orders without question.

“I said, drop it.” He demanded again.

She let the knife fall from her hand, dropping her weight back onto the sword that was barely keeping her standing.