Eiravyne took a frantic turn around the corridor corner and slammed violently into a tall, immovable frame.
The collision knocked the last bit of air from her lungs.
Her feet slid on the polished flagstones, and her knees buckled as she began to fall, but before she could hit the floor, strong, steady hands reached out and caught her by the arms, gathering her collapsing weight.
Eiravyne gasped, thrashing in a frantic, wild frenzy.
"D-Don't touch me! Get …off me!" she choked out, her voice shredded and raw.
She fought the hands with everything she had, clawing at the wrists holding her, her heart hammering against her ribs like a dying bird.
There was no safety left in this place. No one was good.
Then, a sudden, sharp scent drifted into her senses, the dry, bitter fragrance of crushed leaves, dried bark, and medicinal salves.
It was an herbal smell, but it was wrong. It wasn't one that had always clung to Urag's clothes.
