Still holding Nimerelle loosely at his side, Khydan stalked forward toward the males. He held the point of the sword over Githrand’s throat. “Release her,” he commanded. “Now.” The pressure pinning me to the floor vanished in an instant. I toppled forward but caught myself, preventing myself from falling onto my face. Khydan was there immediately, helping me to my feet. His hands were in my hair, then, cradling my face, his beautiful eyes full of concern, skipping over my features and searching for injury.
