45
Iglanced sidelong at Assyria, watching the way her hair swayed against her back as she moved in time with her horse’s stride. The setting sun shone in her eyes, casting a kaleidoscope over the dark color and making those little flecks of red sparkle. I’d noticed them more and more as I spent time close to her, having to help her in and out of her clothes every day, to brush and fix her hair, to pick things up for her as her arm was still immobilized.
I’d become hyper aware of every twitch of Assyria’s muscles, every time she was thirsty or hungry, every time she needed a break from riding Blaeze.
Reaper, what are you doing to me?
I couldn’t—wouldn’t get attached to Assyria. Yet she was everything I’d ever wanted in a female, a challenge I couldn’t walk away from. She fought my need for control with more ferocity than some of the soldiers battling with their Angel attackers. The thrill of our interactions heated my blood in the best way. I’d always craved the tension, the fight, the conquest in everything I did. Assyria gave me that in spades.
She was utterly perfect for me, and I was a fucking fool dragging her into a war. She was a distraction, and yet I couldn’t stay away from her. I hated her for that. Hated myself too.
“I see it!”
she exclaimed, hovering her free hand over her eyes and squinting.
The first tricklings of the oasis around Ustlyak appeared before us, with prickly green bushes hugging the water’s edge, and cacti engorged from whatever liquid they could retain. It would still be a few days before we reached Trol and the rest of the army, who, to my surprise and relief, still held off the Angels on the opposite side of the desert city. The influx of new soldiers we’d sent ahead of us had made the difference.
Our horses’ hooves clopped against the packed earth giving way to stone as we sank into the canyon that protected the city and the oasis. We had to lean back to assist in their descent, and as Assyria mimicked my movement, a twinge of pain tore through her shoulder. I whipped my head to the side, then cursed myself for appearing as an overeager male ready to sweep his mate into his arms at the first sign of trouble.
That wasn’t who I was.
Refocusing on the road ahead of us, I noticed two specks moving in the distance. I narrowed my gaze, suspicion nipping at my nerves.
Angels? Scouts?
They clung to the shadows of the striated canyon walls, moving between reeds and giving away their position with the sway of the fronds.
Untrained in the art of sneaking about, then.
With Assyria by my side, I had to be certain of the potential danger.
“Search,”
I muttered as low as I could to my hounds. Grem and Zeec bounded forward on silent paws, splitting up to cover more distance.
“What was that for?”
Assyria whispered, understanding the need for quiet. Our bond made us highly attuned to the other’s feelings, of which she was getting far too good at reading mine. And I hers.
“Movement ahead,”
I murmured back, eyes never leaving the two figures. Grem had caught their scent and padded in their direction. Zeec noticed his brother’s sudden turn, and he paused, surveying and sniffing, before trotting forward and then backtracking, coming at the two from behind.
“By the wall?”
Assyria asked.
I grunted in response.
Grem released a warning bark that echoed between the stone, and both froze. They were close enough now that I saw their sex and coloring as they stepped out of the shadows, hands raised.
A sharp whistle had Grem and Zeec lowering to the ground, eyes glued to the males, but still in a relaxed posture. “Who goes there?”
I shouted.
“We were sent from Ustlyak to greet you,”
one called out in return. I stopped my horse and the entire procession. Rapp trotted to my side from his position toward the rear, having heard the exchange of words.
“Escort,”
I commanded Grem and Zeec, and in unison, they rose, herding the two forward and closer to us.
A fierce protectiveness rose in my chest, and I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at my mate. She sat stoic with her chin held high as they approached, not an ounce of fear emanating from her expression or down our bond. Whether she was foolish or stupid for it, I couldn’t decide. To her credit, she’d never truly been afraid of me either, and these two were nothing in comparison.
The two strode forward with the occasional backward glance at the hounds, and they wisely kept their hands raised. Finally, they stopped, though Grem and Zeec remained in close proximity, attention focused with well trained precision.
“Kneel,”
I told them.
“You sure like telling people to do that,”
Assyria spoke in my mind.
“Now is not the time,”
I snapped back.
They dropped to their knees, bowing their heads to the ground in deference to me. I leaped from my horse, shaking the ground with my landing. Rapp followed a moment later, shadows swirling around his arms. One swallowed, hands trembling with the barest movements, as we stalked forward.
With a flick of his wrists, Rapp sent black binds around their wrists, keeping them suspended in the air as I bent to examine them. As a Binder, his magic would block all access to theirs, and they’d remain immobile until he released them. This routine was one Rapp and I executed with swift movements, having stopped and disarmed many over our centuries together.
I tossed one paltry dagger to the side, then stepped back and studied the two. By their clothes, they weren’t noble, certainly not from the merchant class either. The dusty, stained linen spoke of long, difficult days trying to survive in this wasteland they called home.
“Who sent you?”
I questioned.
“Hadvezér Trol, Your Glory,”
the one responded again.
I cocked my head to the side and crossed my arms. “Did he?”
“Aye, those of us who are able bodied have been working as messengers for him since the Angels pushed through Lutsk. He wants you to send some of the footsoldiers along the canyon ridge to attack from a higher vantage point,”
the male said. He glanced down at his chest. “If you’ll allow me my hands, sir, I have a note as well. Hadvezér Trol thought you might not believe us without it written in his hand.”
A snort slipped out before I could stop it. Trol wasn’t wrong. With a subtle nod, I told Rapp to release him. The black binds fell away, and the male reached slowly into an inner pocket of his tunic. The parchment was damp, but still intact, when he handed it to me.
Keeping my eye on the two of them, I unfolded and read what was written there. I recognized Trol’s messy script instantly, and the message the male had relayed was true. Additionally, Trol needed sharpened weapons flown to him as quickly as possible. I passed the note along to Rapp, who skimmed it, then tucked it away.
With a wave, he released the second male’s wrists from the binds, and his shadows slithered into his palms again.
“Rise. You may return to the front with a new message for him,”
I told them, then snapped for a piece of parchment. One of the mounted Százados trotted forward and handed that and a stick of charcoal to me. I quickly scratched out a note to Trol, then folded it in a neat square. The leader of the two stepped forward and accepted it from my outstretched hand.
“Thank you, Halálhívó. We will ensure this message arrives to him as soon as possible,”
he said, then gestured for his companion to rise. They took off at a jog back the way they’d come.
I turned my attention to Rapp. “How do you want to split up?”
His tongue flicked over the ring in his lip. “Is that what you’d like to do?”
“Not particularly. But we don’t know what it looks like out there,”
I jerked my head forward, indicating the oasis that led to the city and beyond. “I told Trol to meet us in Ustlyak to discuss the plan.”
Rapp continued to fiddle with the bronze ring. “Let’s stick together for now, since the canyon is wide enough for our group to travel easily. When it starts to narrow, I’ll have a few battalions fly the weapons forward. That way, everyone has food and water for as long as possible, and we don’t have to risk a wagon on the surface up there.”
That was why Rapp was my second in command. He always found a way to balance the tasks and the risks while managing the hundreds of thousands of males under our command. Add in Trol’s attention to detail and adaptability, and we crafted a formidable team.
“Good. Let’s keep moving and get the Angels out of the Demon Realm sooner rather than later.”
A malicious grin stretched all the way to his eyes. “Aye, Halálhívó. Now is our chance to finally finish this.”
In my bones, I knew it was true. The Fates had woven this path perfectly, and with the Angels pinned in their advance, we’d slaughter them all within a matter of days.
This campaign would finally end.
A decade was the blink of an eye in a Demon’s lifespan, and the swift victory would decisively make me the greatest general in all of Ravasz, if not in the entire history of Ravasz, for millennia to come.
Perhaps the Weaver gave me Assyria so I would have something to look forward to once all of this was over, since I had planned for much more of my life to be spent on the battlefield.
At the thought of my mate, I glanced at her, finding her burgundy eyes scanning the horizon again. The way the sun dusted over them made them look like they were ablaze, a riot of red that captivated me. It wasn’t until she flicked her attention at me that I realized I’d been staring. Rather than shy away or pretend that I wasn’t, I held her gaze.
Something different stretched between us in that moment, something I couldn’t quite place, and for once, I wasn’t upset with what the bond poured into me.
“Onward?”
I said to Rapp, still looking at Assyria.
“Aye,”
Rapp replied, passing me on the way to his horse.
I scratched Grem and Zeec behind the ears, offering words of praise to my obedient hounds before returning to my own. The black beast tossed his head as I picked up the reins and urged him forward again. With a groan, the procession resumed, and a heady anticipation filled the air, each male sensing just how close we were to victory.
“You could train me, you know,”
Assyria finally said, though she kept her attention on the road ahead of her.
“For what?”
She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Catching the movement of those two males. It took me time to find them, and it was mostly with the help of Grem that I discovered their location. Before, I only had two ideas as to how I could be useful. Here’s a new one. See? I’m learning.”
Her words held a sharpness to them, but they were duller than they had ever been before, as if beneath the barb, she knew I’d say no and was protecting herself from any blowback from me.
I pondered her sentiment as all light disappeared from the canyon, cooling the air quickly. We’d have to stop for the night soon, though I wanted all to be in the security these walls offered first.
Assyria hadn’t tried to run again, hadn’t even thought of running again, since I saved her from that snake bite. As I subtly tried to probe her emotions, I sensed that she didn’t want to, and her intentions were pure with her desire to learn this skill.
She looked at the sky and sighed. “I’m bored. I spend far too much time in my head, and I want to get out of it. To let go of the memories that haunt me.”
Then, she turned her attention to me. The tenacious expression she wore stole my breath. “I want to feel alive. Demons who are alive don’t sit on the sidelines.”
Then, she faced forward, having made her case.
She wanted to love and be loved again, of that I was certain. Every time she lowered the barrier around her mind, that was at the forefront of it. Yet I couldn’t give her my heart, because that was far too dangerous. I could give her this—a sense of purpose, a way to find happiness independently of me. I examined it from every angle and assessed each possibility and probability because I had to be certain this was the right call. “Okay,”
I finally replied.
Her head whipped to the side, so fast that the scarf covering her head fell away. “Do you truly mean that? Or is this training going to entail me being on my back or on my knees?”
“Watch it. I am trying to be nice,”
I growled. Though I couldn’t deny the allure of either of those images.
The corner of her mouth twitched up before she smothered the grin. “Who would have thought the mighty Halálhívó had it in him to be nice?”
“No one. So don’t go around saying anything. I do have a reputation to uphold.”
The teasing tone with which the words slipped down our mental connection surprised me.
“Was that a joke?”
“I don’t joke.”
A laugh bubbled up before she could stop it, and I found myself enamored with the sound. Assyria had laughed in my face, on multiple occasions, but always with spitting venom. This laugh was pure, bright, and her.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I sucked in a breath and counted to ten, trying to get a grip on myself. “Tomorrow while we ride, I’ll show you how to spot movement in the distance. It’s not hard, and there are plenty of small animals you can practice on. An extra set of eyes, especially this close to the Angels, wouldn’t hurt.”
She offered me an unfiltered, unguarded smile. “Thank you, Halálhívó.”
No animosity, no hatred, no resentment threaded through her tone.
I found myself wanting more of those bright smiles too. Embers of long-dead emotions sparked in me, and I didn’t try to smother them. Still, I was unsure of how to proceed, and how to deal with all of them with the Angels mere days away from us. So I cleared my throat and returned my attention to the road, scanning for a place to stop for the night.
By the time the camp was settled, I found myself with Rapp in one of the food tents, grabbing an extra bowl for Assyria, and then sitting around the table in mine with both of them, for once, not hating that I was spending time with my mate.