The world came back a few seconds later.
Tish found herself still on Rudra's chest. The first thing she felt was her arm- the one which had flung out the very last second - to be on in blinding agony.
When she looked at her forearm, she could recognise the specific wrongness- she had set enough broken bones in her life to know what it meant- the way it didn't sit right under her sleeve, a bend where there shouldn't be one.
There was blood in her mouth, blood on her neck. There was a graze along her hairline, somewhere above her ear, shallow but bleeding dramatically like scalp wounds always do. The blood ran down her neck into her collar dampening the fabric there.
Her vision had gone somewhat white when the impact had hit her and she hadn't recovered it yet. Her ears rang painfully to say the least. She had her left cheek pressed against his collarbone. When she was finally able to lift her head a little, she found a wide gash of wound on his neck, a branch must have caught him across the throat during the fall. Where her good hand lied flat against his side, she could feel the geometry of his body going seriously wrong- a rib bowed in a way it shouldn't bow.
Bitterly, she realised he would survive this fall. As she would.
She could feel her body mending already, the holy magic threading the wound, setting the bones right. She rolled down from his chest.
It didn't make sense why he hadn't transformed into his dragon form. But Tish was done making sense of him. She just wanted to run.
She couldn't break into a run ofcourse. But Rudra's fingers were already twitching. His eyelids fluttering. So Tish started crawling away from him on all her fours. She managed to grab a broken branch and haul herself up. She continued her slow painful escape, limping and stumbling.
Almost there.
Then she broke through the treeline and her heart sank. She was staring at atleast two hundred Parthan citizens and soldiers. For one full second nobody moved. Not Tish, not the Parathans.
Suddenly the guards remembered they were paid to do something- definitely not paid enough to deal with a dragon prince and his fianceé falling from the sky- but they must do something.
The closest to Tish approach her slowly, like wolves closing in on a particularly dangerous prey. They had their hands on the hilt of the swords, eyes fixed on Tish. But they weren't foolish enough to jump on her.
Behind them the chaos started enfolding. A bunch of petitioners scattered in the opposite direction, merchants started shouting - everyone moving towards the general opposition direction from the place of impact. One of the guards turned back, shouting name and rank of some senior guard.
Tish realised she was trapped. Infront of her were the Parthan guards, behind her was a very angry, very hostile Dragon Prince with terrifying self-healing power. Which way she should run was very obvious.
She would take on two hundred people any day instead of fighting with Rudra Azhdar.
Another noise, more organised than the chaos of Parthan Outer court cut through the shouts of merchants and guards, followed by organised sounds of hooves. It was so familiar for a second Tish thought she was hallucinating - that she had hit her head, getting a serious injury somewhere she shouldn't get- and she had started conjuring in her mind images of someone coming to save her.
She didn't understand immediately what was she hearing but it made her eyes go blurry with tears. Then she spotted him. Pale face, dark eyes- Percival Leonhart.
The only man to ever cry when Tish was sent off to Partha.
He looked thinner, his eyes were sunk in the sockets, cheeks broken. But when he looked at Tish, he looked like the same young boy she used to sneak out with to play in the perma forests.
The sudden arrival of a cluster of foreign soldiers threw the Parthan Soldiers into more defensive form. They didn't attack ofcourse, but somewhere a horn was blowing. Bells rang to alert the entire city.
But Percival didn't care about the soldiers or bell or anything. He dropped from his horse even before it came to a stop and ran to Tish. He scooped her up by her waist. Tish for her part squeezed Percival into a hug, afraid he would disappear like a sweet dream if she let him go.
Their reunion was short and sweet. As more and more or Parthan soldiers arrived circling the little Benevian group, Percival pushed Tish behind him. He wasn't wearing the armour Benevian soldiers usually wear- but then he probably wasn't expecting a fight to break out. He wore only Tegilyai and chaimail. But atleast he brought his helmet- a small relief Tish felt amidst her ever growing fear since she came to Partha- which he hastily put on.
"Just heal me when I get wounded," His voice came out muffled but determined, "I'll handle the rest."
Tish hesitated. She had seen how fast a life could be taken. Could she even heal Percival before his life would be taken?
Was she even a Saintess?
"Halt."
The voice didn't come as a roar or even a bark. Tish turn around, a shiver down her spine. Her heart was beating fast again- stupid. Coward. Heart.
Instinctively she pressed herself into Percival's back, who had twisted his body turning around half towards the Dragon Prince. It was evident Percy didn't know which way to point his sword first but he was not willing to go down without a fight.
But Tish knew in her heart Percy wouldn't survive.
Like Saya hadn't.
Fifteen years of training meant nothing when you are facing a dragon who could be centuries old.
He stood awfully straight and tall for someone who had fallen atleast two hundred feet down. But his shoulders were stiff, arms hanging too loose. The ghastly wide cut on his throat had already patched up leaving a dark sick stain on his collar. He hair was matted with his own blood, forehead and neck- red and glistening. He was covered in dust, leave and sweat.
But his eyes. They didn't lose their fire.
He looked much more dangerous - like a cornered wild beast. Except he was the one cornering.
"Where do you think you are going?" He asked.