60
After a few more silent sobs, I forced myself to pull it together. The Angels could return at any moment, and I needed to escape. Shrugging my shoulder, I dried my eyes and nose as best I could on the silky dress, not caring that I was staining it.
Then, I sat up again and tried to maneuver myself so that I could peer over the edge of the table. The legs were square but thin, and the earth beneath it wasn’t smoothed out. It appeared the Angels didn’t care about keeping this space particularly clean and tidy, which worked to my advantage. I didn’t have much weight to throw around, but I could certainly try.
Gritting my teeth, I twisted with all my strength, managing to rock the table.
Fuck yes, I can do this.
Again, I threw all my weight to the side, a small scraping sound accompanying it. I paused, holding my breath, to see if it drew any attention. When no one appeared, I did it again, feeling some resistance in one of the legs.
This is it.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I exploded against the chains on my exhale. The edge teetered for a moment, and then I crashed to the side, the entire thing thudding on impact. Unfortunately, the chains weren’t taught enough to prevent me from careening into the ground as well, and my previously injured shoulder smacked against a rock.
“Fucking Reaper,”
I cursed as pain lanced through my arm.
There was no way that commotion went unheard, so I forced myself into an awkward pose in an attempt to slip the chains off the upturned table legs. Again and again I flailed my arm, only succeeding in bruising it around the shackle.
With a huff, I paused.
Think, Assyria. Use your big brain and figure out another way.
Arching my back, I studied the thin legs again. If I could shimmy the loop low enough and get just the right angle, I could break the wood with a forceful tug. Barely able to see what I was doing out of the corner of my eye, I slid the chain along it, trying to find somewhere between the midpoint and where it was attached to the table.
Again, I steadied myself, bracing for what would certainly be a deep bruise, and yanked. My shoulder screamed in protest, but then a telltale snap of splintering wood rang out. Popping my eyes open, I found that I had succeeded. I nearly released a whoop of excitement. Quickly, I slid the bind off the leg.
One arm free.
If these shackles weren’t made of fucking silver, I would have used my shadows to break the others off. But of course, as illogical as the Angels were about our species, they were still smart enough to lock down my magic. And my fucking mate magic.
How was that even possible? The bonds that mates shared were mysterious, and no one quite knew how it all worked, and yet the Goddess had seen to gift Hayyel with some sort of magic that created a drug that could interfere with it.
Just my fucking luck.
Continuing to grumble to myself about the whole situation, I worked on my leg. With one arm free, I had more range of motion to assist in the task. Breaking the second one was much easier. Which left me with two more to go.
How no one had heard the commotion and returned to investigate was beyond my comprehension. It wasn’t like I was being quiet in here.
Although, as the thought crossed my mind, I opened my ears to what waited outside. Even louder than the clanking metal, a dim roar of excitement filled the air. Voices shouted and song broke out, drowning out any sound from within this tent.
Hurry, Assyria!
Gritting my teeth, I flung myself to the opposite side, hoping to carry the broken table with me. I crashed again into the ground, but this time, the table splintered apart of its own accord, its construction too flimsy to withstand much abuse from me.
Thank you, Weaver.
“You, what’s your name?”
a voice hissed in Demonic, and I froze, whipping my head up.
A row of cages lined one wall, and in each, a male crouched. The two closest to me gripped the bars tightly, eyes dancing as they studied me.
“What the fuck? Where did you come from?”
I said, brows dipping together.
“They kept us under an illusion. Whatever is going on out there must be more important than hiding us from you,”
a maroon-eyed one replied.
“How are you here in the first place? How are you not dead?”
I questioned, mind spinning in a thousand different directions.
“We don’t have much time to explain. You need to get out of here as soon as you can. Return to the Halálhívó and tell him Banand and Zurronar are still alive,”
a burgundy-eyed one said in a rush.
“Zurronar? Do you have a brother named Izgath?”
I asked, attention bouncing between the two as I didn’t know who was who. Though as the maroon-eyed one crept closer, the resemblance to the male who had died protecting me became evident.
“Yes,”
he replied, searching my face. “You know him?”
A lump formed in my throat and I nodded. “I’ll get us all out of here, and then we can explain everything to one another.”
I couldn’t tell him his brother was dead because of me, not like this.
Using my anguish as fuel, I jerked the last two chains free, then dropped to my hands and knees. “Any ideas on how to take these off?”
I asked the two.
They shook their heads, flashing their own silver bracelets at me. “We’ve tried to remove them for a long time. The Angels use just enough to keep our magic low without killing us. And those are a lot thicker.”
The burgundy eyed one—Banand—gestured at the shackles around my wrists and ankles.
“Okay, what about the keys to these cages?”
I asked, straightening and looking around the room.
“The sentries have them. Look, you should just go. We’re fine here. We’ve survived this long. We can continue to,”
Zurronar said.
“I can’t–”
I started to say, but Banand cut me off.
“Go, mate of the Halálhívó, while they are distracted. Everyone already believes us dead. They can’t get any new information out of us. We’ll gladly die for the Halálhívó and the Demon cause, otherwise we wouldn’t have joined the army.”
Tears pricked my eyes as I took in their dirty, torn clothing, the black lines under their nails, the wild way their hair had grown out. “I’m so sorry. I will tell the Halálhívó we need to save you. Is there anything else I can do?”
Zurronar shook his head. “Go.”
“Assyria,”
I said to him.
“Go, Assyria. You are more important to this war than you realize,”
he replied, offering me a sad smile.
Gathering the silver links as best I could, I hobbled toward the flap, lifting it ever so slightly in an attempt to check if the way was clear for me to move.
Instead, a pair of turquoise eyes met mine. “Ah, perfect timing. The show is about to begin.”
A scream ripped from my throat as Zaph yanked me forward and threw me into the arms of two waiting males. All around, shouts assaulted my ears and Angels raced down alleys, strapping on gleaming metal armor, slinging bows over their backs, and sheathing swords at their hips. I jerked in their hold, managing to free one arm before they trapped me again.
“Take the chains off her feet, I don’t want you to waste any energy carrying her,”
he instructed them, his tone almost bored.
When one bent to remove them, I planted my hands on his shoulder and brought my knee to his face, just like Rokath had shown me. It collided with the Angel’s nose with a satisfying crunch. The bastard cursed me in Angelic, stumbling back and covering it with his hand. Ruby dripped between his fingers, and I offered him an innocent, saccharine smile. “Oops.”
He lunged for me, but Zaph shoved him back. “Now is not the time. She will have her reckoning soon enough. As will the fucking Halálhívó.”
Bands of light leaped from Zaph’s hands and locked my legs so I couldn’t move them. His other companion dropped to remove the shackles, and my expression fell from a sweet one into a feral, raging one. “I will free myself from your madness, and then, I will grab a dagger and slit your throat,”
I hissed at the male. The violent promise should have frightened me, but I was mated to Keleti’s most dangerous Demon, and fuck if I wasn’t going to embody him now.
He laughed, throwing his head back and covering his stomach. But then, he snapped his attention forward and turned deadly serious. “Funny, I said something similar to your mate when he gave me this.”
Slapping a hand over his face, he lifted his white hair away and offered me an unencumbered view of the scar Rokath had carved into him.
“And now look at me. About to get my revenge,”
he giggled, like a fucking child receiving a toy it had been yearning for. Letting his hair fall, the H that mirrored the ones on my wrists was covered once again.
No wonder he cuts his hair that way.
Was his thirst for vengeance born of Rokath’s humiliation of him?
“Revenge for that?”
I asked, indicating his forehead. I pressed my lips together and smothered a laugh. He narrowed his eyes in response.
“Silence, you whore. Be as you are supposed to—silent and awaiting command from the male in charge of you. The only reason you aren’t dead yet is because you are the ultimate weapon against the Halálhívó,”
he snarled.
That pissed me off. I bared my teeth at him and released a growl to rival any of my mate’s. “The Halálhívó would let me die, so your plan is pointless.”
“We’ll see about that.”
The shackles on my ankles now removed, he wrapped a hand around my upper arm and tugged me forward again. I’d been unconscious when they brought me to the Angel’s camp, and when Zaph marched me into the heart of it, I wished again to be anywhere else but here.
A trickle of awareness pricked the back of my mind, and despite the silver around my wrists, the shadows in my chest began to move again.
Hayyel’s magic must be wearing off.
I yanked on the tiny tendril of the bond that appeared, hoping Rokath would feel it.
Thousands of eyes in every shade of blue stared back as Zaph paraded me like a fucking prized hog. Most held a disgusted sneer to their lips. Wad after wad of spit flew in my direction, most missing me, but some stuck to my dress, my legs, and my arms. I snarled back, no doubt confirming their suspicions about the barbaric Demons. But they were so fervent in their belief, there wasn’t anything I could do that would change their minds.
So I rolled with it instead, showing them I wasn’t afraid despite the blood rushing in my ears and the sick feeling roiling in my stomach. Like Hayyel, many seemed to regard me warily as I loosed crazed laughs and spit right back at them. Fuck these Angels. They weren’t better than me, better than any Demon. There was nothing about them that was superior or special. Each of us, in our own way, was unique, with powers gifted by our deities, and all trying to survive in this cruel world.
Why we had to fight was beyond me.
So I let them parade me like the animal they thought I was, right up to a podium in the center of two armies facing off. On one side, a sea of red greeted me, while the other was a mass of white. Zaph dragged me up the stairs, not caring when I stumbled, but rather, jerking forcefully on my right arm and sending pain shooting through it again. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about binding it to set properly again.
Lifting my chin and my gaze, I looked forward toward my fate.
And locked eyes with Rokath.