10 PRISCA
Rekja’s war room was a grand chamber that sprawled across the uppermost floor of the castle’s east wing. Windows on each side offered views of both the city below us and the dock to the east.
The sky was filled with winged creatures. Likely, they were the same creatures that had attacked the rebel camp and almost killed Demos. They hovered at some invisible line in the distance, waiting to attack.
Outside the northern city gates, the ground was a sea of black. More creatures, only these were clearly confined to the ground. Behind them, soldiers hauled catapults and battering rams, while others built siege towers.
Flames flickered in the distance. They were setting up their encampment. I took a moment to reach for the threads of my magic, hope flickering in my chest.
But no. My power was still nowhere to be found.
I hadn’t expected it to be back. And still, the disappointment engulfed me.
Inside, the room buzzed with an undercurrent of tense energy. Every chair around the massive oakwood table was occupied by Rekja’s commanders, generals, and advisers, their expressions ranging from determination to weariness.
More soldiers lined the walls, their backs straight and hands clasped behind them, lined the walls.
“We need to send a message to Asinia, Demos, and Tibris,” I told Lorian. “They’re traveling this way.”
“Already done. I told them to head toward Thobirea,” he said, and some of the knots in my stomach unraveled. His gaze flicked to Rekja, who stood near one of the windows, gazing down at the city below him. I didn’t ask why Rekja’s scouts hadn’t seen the Eprothans approaching earlier. If they hadn’t sounded the alarm, it was because they were likely dead.
When his eyes met mine, they held grim acceptance.
“Regner isn’t here. He sent his general, Tymedes. He has demanded I concede this kingdom to Eprotha.”
For a long, hideous moment, I couldn’t even speak.
Rekja glanced at Lorian when I didn’t reply. “This would always have happened. My father clung to his ignorance, believing Regner would allow Gromalia to exist. And that together, human kings would rule all four kingdoms.” His mouth twisted.
“This city is in a strategic location to take the rest of Gromalia,” Lorian said. “Regner can’t take the capital by water, but if this city falls, the Eprothans can use this as their base until they’re ready to continue moving south.”
Rekja said nothing. His eyes had turned empty, almost lifeless.
“Regner has decided to use the monsters he has been hiding,” Galon said. “And that makes me wonder where he is positioning the rest of his human soldiers.”
Rekja gestured to the monsters flittering back and forth above Regner’s soldiers. “What are they?”
Lorian studied them. While Asinia had sent us a message describing them after their attack on the rebels, he hadn’t wanted to give his opinion until he saw exactly what they were. And from the cold wrath in his eyes, he now knew. “The winged creatures are known as skyrions. The creatures on the ground are terrovians.” He looked at me. “They have been twisted to obey Reiner’s command, but their original home was within Sylvielle’s territory.”
And Regner had stolen them as babies, breeding them until they were a substantial part of his army. There were enough skyrions and terrovians here to rip everyone in this city apart.
“What do we do?” My lips were numb. My voice didn’t sound like mine. I reached for my power, searching yet again for some tiny spark as I clutched my hourglass.
Nothing.
“This city isn’t built for a prolonged siege,” Rekja said. “Residents will begin evacuating through tunnels beneath the city. But there won’t be enough time to get them all out. Sorlithia will fall. The most we can do is attempt to save as many lives as possible.”
Across the room, Thora’s bottom lip trembled. This was their favorite place. The city they likely escaped to often. I hadn’t seen much of it, yet what I had seen, I’d loved.
And Regner would destroy it and everyone here.
The loss of my power was crippling. Without it, I would carry hundreds or thousands of deaths on my conscience.
“Where do the tunnels end?” I asked.
“Deep within the forest, along the border between both kingdoms.”
I barely hid my wince. Between Regner’s regiments and the hybrid camp.
“Tell them to move south,” I said.
“Of course they will move south.” Rekja gave me a look.
“Not to the next city,” I said. “Not to the next villages. Regner will simply continue wiping them out. Tell your people to move toward central Gromalia.”
Rekja hesitated. Clearly, while he was willing to ally with us, trusting his people to the fae still wasn’t something that came naturally to him.
“We are moving our people out,” I said. “Those who can’t fight will be traveling to the hybrid kingdom through the Asric Pass. Those who can fight will join together— hybrid and fae fighting side by side. Fight with us, Rekja. Tell your generals to march your army all the way south. Our armies are setting up a camp there, ready to march on our orders.”
His eyes flared. “And were you going to ask permission before marching into my kingdom?”
He was terrified for his people. And some tiny part of him blamed me and my people for Regner’s actions. So I simply gave him a steady look. “Yes. That conversation was going to happen tomorrow.”
His gaze held mine, before slowly shifting to Lorian’s. But he knew he had no choice. At this point, he had nowhere else to move his army without putting them directly in Regner’s path. And we needed to strategize before we met the human king in battle.
“Fine.”
“How long did Tymedes give you?” Marth’s voice came from behind us. He was leaning against the wall, sharpening one of his blades.
“Twenty hours.”
Enough time to devastate morale. Not enough time to fully prepare for a siege. Enough time for thousands in this city to contemplate death. Not enough time for reinforcements to arrive.
If Daharak hadn’t already sailed south, we would have had her ships. But this battle wouldn’t be fought on water. And the skyrions would decimate her fleet. My heart tripped. What if she had been intercepted while leaving Gromalian waters? My aunt, the pirate queen, and the two hundred ships that sailed with us could already be at the bottom of the ocean.
If only we’d brought Jamic with us. The fae king had assured Rythos that he would teach Jamic to effectively wield the power that seethed within him. So that when we walked onto the battlefield, Jamic could access as much of that power as possible.
But we would have stood a better chance with him here.
“My father had never imagined Regner might attack this castle,” Rekja said, and I forced myself to stop lingering on the what-ifs. “We don’t have enough of a stockpile of supplies for long.”
I didn’t say what we were all probably thinking. With those deadly creatures waiting, this was unlikely to take long anyway.
“The skyrions attacked the rebel camp,” I said. “They were able to fight them off. Tell your soldiers to aim for their wings or their heads.”
“And you?” he asked, gesturing to the hourglass around my neck.
“I haven’t been able to access my power since we took down the barrier.” I fought to keep my voice steady. But I had to steel myself against the bitter disappointment in Rekja’s eyes.
Around us, Rekja’s people were murmuring, expressions serious. Lorian stepped forward, taking my hand. “If we have twenty hours, we need to use them to get as many people out of the city as possible,” he said. “Without creating panic or alerting Regner’s general to our plans.”
And so, as the sun rose higher in the sky, we traveled along the beautiful Sorlithian streets I had admired. The streets that would soon run red with blood. Each of us carried a seal from Rekja, ensuring his people would believe us when we told them what was happening.
The evacuation needed to be quiet. Contained.
Just as the rebels had built tunnels beneath Lesdryn, some clever ancestor of Rekja’s had done the same beneath Sorlithia. Perhaps he had known Regner. Known it was only a matter of time before the madman to the north turned on the Gromalian people.
Entire families took whatever they could carry and scurried into the tunnels. This wasn’t something any of them had ever planned for, and yet they moved quickly. Perhaps more people would escape than I’d first imagined.
Still, I searched again and again and again for my power.
Please, I begged the gods. Please.
Where my power had one radiated deep within me, now there was nothing.
Some of the Sorlithians who were too weak to move were carried. But others couldn’t be moved. They would stay with the human healers who refused to leave their patients’ sides, defying orders from anyone who attempted to make them leave.
My eyes burned, the muscles in my chest clenching. Tibris would have stayed too.
Our own healer was on one of Daharak’s ships— hopefully still sailing south.
Finally, exhausted, we returned to the castle to prepare our next move.
Lorian kissed my forehead. “I want you to try to get some rest.”
I slitted my eyes at him.
He snarled back at me, clearly exhausted himself. “You’re almost asleep on your feet.”
I dropped my gaze. “My power still hasn’t returned, Lorian. If all I can do is help people flee, then…”
His hand caught my chin, and he waited until I met his eyes. They softened. “Don’t you dare believe for one second that your worth as a queen—or even as a person— depends on your ability to access that power.”
A lump had formed in my throat. I heard him, but in this moment, when my power could save so many lives… It was difficult to believe I hadn’t failed everyone who would die today.
“There are still people who were moving too slowly to evacuate,” I murmured.
“It’s too late,” Rekja said behind us. “Tymedes has become impatient. Our time is up.”
Regner couldn’t have known that Prisca would come here. And yet, his general was likely rubbing his hands together at the thought of killing the hybrid heir and taking her body back to his king like a cat displaying its kill.
With a thought, I dissolved my human glamour and returned to my fae form. My teeth and ears lengthened, my body grew a little stronger, my senses heightened.
None of us was wearing armor.
Not even Prisca. She was too petite. Unlike in the hybrid or fae kingdoms, which recognized that women could make the most vicious fighters of all, most soldiers in Gromalia and Eprotha were men. The breastplates were too large, the gauntlets would prevent her from using her hands, and the chain mail would slow her down.
For Marth, Galon, Rythos, and me, the armor was too small. Even in our human forms, it would restrict our movements.
Prisca met my gaze, raising one eyebrow. Even if I could yank her out of here, she would never be the first to leave. I would have to knock her unconscious.
“Don’t even think about it,” she muttered. “I may not have my power, but I have my brain, and I can still swing a sword.”
She could. She was fast—even faster with her daggers than her sword. No one had trained harder than my wildcat, even while traveling.
“A moment,” I said, gesturing to the door and glancing at Marth, Rythos, Galon, and Prisca.
Rekja nodded, turning back to stare out the windows.
I opened the door across the hall, finding a small sitting room.
Prisca walked ahead, murmuring quietly to Rythos. I grabbed Galon’s arm. “I need you to—”
“I know. If you fall or if it looks like there is no hope left, I will get her out. I promise.”
Some of the tension melted from my muscles. But I leaned closer. “You will need to hold some power back during the battle. And…if it comes to such a choice, Prisca will fight you.”
His mouth twitched. “Let me worry about that.”
Relief swept through me like a cool breeze, and we stepped into the room with the others, Galon pulling the door closed behind us.
“Rekja knows this city will fall,” I said. “But while he may think he understands what that means, it will be very, very different when it actually happens.”
Rythos nodded. “This is his first test as a king—not yet crowned. And unlike his father, he truly cares for his people. He will likely attempt to stay. If he dies, there is currently no successor to the Gromalian throne.”
I nodded. I had seen it time and time again. Leaders who had stayed behind in a desperate bid to save their people. It never ended well.
“Which means his generals and distant relatives will be scrambling for power,” Marth said. “Right while we need the Gromalians allied with us and focused on the threat Regner represents.”
Prisca nodded, but I could tell it still bothered her— thinking this way. In her mind, we should want to save Rekja because he was a good man. And because no one should be left behind to die.
“So we haul him out of here,” she said, meeting my gaze. There was a hint of challenge in her eyes.
“If it comes down to it, we knock him out and drag him out of the city,” Galon said.
“That would be enough for him to declare war,” Rythos warned.
I barely heard him. I was too busy staring at Prisca’s unprotected body. As much as I still wanted to raid Rekja’s armory, it would be useless.
Panic sliced through me like a blade, and my voice was just as sharp. “You stay next to me, wildcat. I mean it. If you go wandering away to save some unlucky soul, I’ll cart you out of here myself.”
Galon stood close enough to me that I could see his shoulders shaking out of the corner of my eye. Marth made a choked sound. Prisca narrowed her eyes at both of them before turning back to me. “Threats are unnecessary,” she bit out.
Rythos burst out laughing. “With a woman as stubborn as you, threats are all Lorian has.”
My entire body suddenly went cold. I could feel those eyes on me once more. The hair rose on the back of my neck, and I suppressed a snarl. If one of the dark gods wanted to drag me to Hubur, they wouldn’t do it during this battle.
I would not leave Prisca alone. Not here.
Prisca sniffed at Rythos. “Traitor.” Turning her attention back to me, she took my hand. Her skin was so soft, the bones of her hand delicate. Fragile. “I know I’m useless without my power, Lorian. I’ll stay close. I promise.”
I cast a single glance at the others, and they grabbed their weapons and filed out of the room.
I caught Prisca’s chin in my hand. “You are not, and could never be, useless. If I have made you feel that way, then I apologize, wildcat. I merely thought we would have more time before…this. I knew you would fight, but I imagined you fully armed and able to access your magic, with enough armor to keep you as safe as possible…and our own armies at your back.”
A sick kind of panic took up residence in my chest as I realized just how much danger she would be in.
Her expression softened. “This city will fall. I know this, Lorian. And I will leave when there is no other choice. But until then, we save as many lives as we can.”
I stroked her stubborn chin with my thumb. “Deal.”
My lungs burned, my heart raced, and I had yet to swing my sword. Behind me, Lorian waited for me to climb up the internal staircase to the top of the northern city wall, following me up once I’d reached the top.
Rekja had stationed most of his soldiers here, where they could use the battlements and crenellations for cover while observing the battle. The air was thick with fear, anticipation, charged with the energy of a storm about to break.
The king himself wore silver armor, his helmet adorned with a green stripe worked into the metal. He stood a couple hundred footspans away, on the northwestern intersection of the city walls, his gaze on our enemy in the distance.
The scent of the sea mingled with smoke and iron. At our backs, the city stretched out, Rekja’s people running for their lives.
The soldiers around us moved with purpose, armor clinking softly as they adjusted their helmets, checked their weapons, joked uneasily with those they would fight and die next to.
A horn blew in the distance, and the ground seemed to undulate as thousands of creatures shot toward the city. My teeth began to chatter. Lorian’s hand found my shoulder and squeezed. He didn’t say a word, simply stood next to me, a silent support.
Skyrions darkened the sky, flapping feathered wings as some of them split off, perhaps to chase after Daharak’s ships. Fog rolled over my mind, until I could only think one word—Telean.
We weren’t currently speaking. Neither of us had said goodbye before I’d left. By now, I should know better than to tempt fate that way. My aunt was on one of those ships, and—
No. If I thought like that, the terror would cripple me.
I caught a glimpse of one of the skyrions, highlighted by the moonlight. Long arms ending in clawed talons, a hunched spine, glowing red eyes… My stomach roiled.
On the ground, terrovians sprinted toward the walls. Their fur was dark, so sleek it seemed almost like oil dripping across the ridges of their muscles. The creatures’ heads swayed, low and intent, sending a shiver down my spine. It was like watching shadows come to life.
I dragged my gaze away and caught a muscle ticking in Lorian’s jaw. His hands fisted, and I could practically feel the frustration eating at him.
“You can kill them all, can’t you?”
“The power that burns through me when you are in danger…I can access it once more. I can likely kill everything in the sky,” Lorian said. “It’s too difficult to differentiate targets on the ground, and the fae fire would spread, doing more damage to the people remaining in this city than Tymedes’s army.”
“You…you kept your fire contained in Eryndan’s castle.”
“Because it burned for mere moments in a confined space. This would ravage through anything it touched.” His eyes turned intent. “I will be almost powerless if I do this. You currently don’t have any access to your own power.”
And the protective part of him that insisted he shield me from everything dangerous was urging him to conserve that power.
“Do it. Kill the creatures in the sky.” Lorian was death with a weapon in his hand. But I’d heard from Asinia just how much damage the winged creatures could do.
The first skyrions reached the city walls, tucking in their wings and aiming for Rekja’s soldiers.
“Fire,” one of Rekja’s generals screamed.
Arrows filled the sky. But where each skyrion fell, another took its place, slashing out with teeth and claws, lifting soldiers from the wall and throwing them to the ground. I reached for my power out of habit, uselessly watching as one of the soldiers went over the wall, his gaze locking with mine.
I grabbed Lorian’s arm.
“Innocent people are dying!”
A muscle feathered in his jaw. I shouldn’t have attempted that kind of logic. Lorian would save innocents whenever he could, but if it came down to me or them, he would choose me every time.
“I’ll protect her,” Galon said behind us. “You know I have enough power to do it.”
Lorian turned and studied him. His cheekbones seemed even sharper than usual, his eyes wild.
“Please,” I begged.
He gave a stiff nod, turning to the sky. His expression turned almost serene. Relaxed. As if it had taken everything in him not to use his power, and this was some kind of mental and physical release.
His eyes turned white, the way they sometimes did when his lightning had slipped free. But it wasn’t that power that he aimed. No, it was fae fire that swept through the sky. Red, orange, yellow, and purple. My breath caught. It was as beautiful and deadly as the man himself.
Every skyrion in the air turned to ash.
Choked gasps sounded behind us. Footsteps sounded, as if someone had turned to run.
A man let out a sound like a squeak. “Bloodthirsty—”
“Don’t you dare!” I whirled on Rekja’s soldier.
Lorian’s arm came around my waist, and he buried his head in my neck. His entire body was trembling with obvious fatigue. But after one long inhale, he lifted his head.
I cupped his face until he looked at me. His eyes were wild in a way that made my heart thunder. But he didn’t need fear. Not from me.
Slowly, he came back to himself. His lips pressed to mine for the barest moment, and he inhaled again, as if my scent was clearing his head.
One of Rekja’s soldiers turned toward us, his face white. “They’re… Some of the creatures on the ground are fleeing.”
I followed his gaze, my breaths stilling in my chest…
He was right.
Some of the terrovians that had been clawing at the walls were turning to run, their instincts likely screaming at them after Lorian’s decimation.
But still more of them were digging their claws into those walls. And I let myself imagine—just for a single moment—what I could do if I had my power.
And then they began to howl.
The sound pierced the night, seeming to shake the stone beneath my feet. The scent of fear and sweat curled up my nostrils, and my entire body went cold.
“Their howls increase fear,” Galon said, plucking a crossbow from one of Rekja’s soldiers—a young man who was shaking too hard to hold it straight. Galon’s arrow lodged straight into the throat of the terrovian clambering up the wall, and the creature fell, taking several others with it.
Galon’s no-nonsense refusal to panic seemed to help the soldiers around us reach for their own calm. They launched arrow after arrow, taking down as many terrovians as they could before the creatures reached the top of the walls.
Lorian wrapped my hand around my sword, gave me a look that warned me not to do anything that might cause him a single moment of concern, and turned to behead the first creature that made it up to the top of the city gates.
Next to me, Rythos sliced a terrovian almost in two. On his other side, Marth shoved his sword deep, before kicking the creature to the ground and swinging once more.
Something barreled at me, and all I could see were long, vicious teeth. I twisted, and the creature slid past my body, but it was breathtakingly fast, immediately righting itself with a fluid, menacing grace.
I lunged forward, driving my sword toward the creature. It moved with terrifying agility, but Galon’s insistence on repetitive, never-ending drills had finally honed my reflexes. My sword found its mark, plunging into the creature’s side. It howled, and the sound sent shivers down my spine, urging me to release my grip on the sword. I tightened my hand instead, and the beast thrashed, its movements becoming erratic, desperate. I held on, pushing deeper as its hot blood gushed over my hands.
But I needed my sword free. Ripping my blade from the creature, I turned, coming face-to-face with a terrovian that snapped at me, just inches away.
I let out a yelp. The terrovian’s head hit the ground, and my eyes met Lorian’s.
He scanned me for damage, his eyes feral. I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring nod, and he planted himself closer to me, turning to kick out at the next beast.
My breaths came in sharp pants, my hand slick on the hilt of my sword. It was heavier than anything I’d trained with, but I swung it again and again and again. One of Rekja’s soldiers screamed, falling from the wall, his chest a bloody ruin. I caught a glimpse of the king himself, closer to us now as he lunged at the terrovian, before I was forced to turn and meet the next attack.
The creature died with my sword buried in its gut, and I had a single moment to glance below us as the gates shuddered. Eprothan soldiers had followed the terrovians. The humans slammed battering rams into the wall, the gate, anything they could. To our right, several of them were clawing their way up a siege tower. Galon waited until they were almost at the top before unleashing his own power, the water slamming into the tower and washing away any soldiers or terrovians within his reach.
Lorian leaned down, beheading another creature before turning to Galon with a snarl. He wanted Galon to conserve his power to get us out. And I knew if I’d had my power, that agreement wouldn’t have been necessary.
The bitterness on my tongue tasted almost as bad as the terrovian blood that had sprayed my face.
Galon jerked his head behind us, and I followed his gaze. He’d bought us time. Time for oil to be brought from the kitchens. This city couldn’t have been less prepared for attack. We would have to use the oil sparingly.
The scalding liquid gleamed ominously, and Rekja waited until the exact moment the gates were almost heaving with creatures and soldiers.
He nodded to one of his soldiers, who lifted his hand. The huge cauldron rose into the air, tipping slowly. And then it moved across the entire width of the gate, spilling oil over anyone—and anything—beneath it.
The screams were chilling.
But the oil bought us a few desperate moments to gulp some water as the terrovians backed away from the wall below us, snarling. I surveyed Lorian, Galon, and Marth. All of them were covered in blood, but none looked seriously injured.
“Rythos?”
Lorian nodded behind me, and I whirled, finding Rythos leaning precariously from the wall.
“Is he talking to someone?” I took a couple of steps closer, my head spinning. But it was a group of Eprothan soldiers hanging from the wall. The oil had missed them, and they’d aimed for Rythos. They’d made it close enough to him that he could use his power.
Within moments, they’d begun to turn on their own people, creating confusion and chaos. Rythos got to his feet and stumbled. Clearly, he’d expended a lot of power in a short time.
I launched toward him, but Marth was already there, preventing him from falling over the edge.
My gaze slid past the others, to Rekja’s soldiers. And my muscles locked up.
I’d been fighting in the midst of deadly, experienced fae warriors. And so I hadn’t noticed just how dire our situation had become. The soldiers Rekja had ordered to the wall had thinned significantly.
Even their best warders hadn’t been able to hold the line for long against soldiers bloated with Regner’s magic and arrows tipped with fae iron.
It was only a matter of time before the enemy made it through. Already, their siege ladders were being hauled close once more.
Despair slid into my chest like a finely sharpened blade. I pulled, automatically searching for the threads of my power once more. But it was as if those threads had been cut.
People were going to die here, and all I could do was kill a few terrovians.
Was this the price Telean had spoken of? Would the consequences of my actions be to watch innocents die one by one, until it was my friends and family who were the ones being slaughtered?
And then the creatures were upon us in a maelstrom of fur and fangs and fear, each terrovian a blur of deadly grace, and there was no time to rest, no time to think, as more terrovians made it to the wall––Eprothan soldiers following close behind. At some point, they’d already managed to get another siege ladder up.
I’d once thought I might find it difficult to kill humans. But the rage burning through me made it much, much easier than I’d ever imagined.
These soldiers were filled with blood lust, trained to attack innocents. They would kill everyone in this city if ordered.
When they saw Lorian and the others, many of the soldiers faltered. But with nowhere else to go, they attacked. Again and again.
Galon used his power to sweep more of them away, while I could practically feel Lorian itching for more of his own power. He was able to summon enough lightning to work with Galon’s water, killing any soldiers unlucky enough to be touching that water, but frustration and fatigued warred on his face.
And yet, if he hadn’t killed the skyrions, the city would already have been Regner’s.
An Eprothan soldier lunged at me, and I met his sword. Fuck, he was strong. I slammed my foot into his knee, and he howled, swinging his sword again. But it was sloppy, his body unbalanced. Darting to the side, I tripped him, throwing him off the wall.
I turned just in time to block the next sword, twisting my body to protect my own blade—and arm.
This was nothing like training with Galon. Never could I have imagined having such little space to work with, the stone slick with blood and water beneath my feet. It was so crowded, I barely had room to move.
But every soldier and creature we killed was one less to kill the innocent people of this city.
Chaos reigned.
A blade slipped past my guard, slicing into my arm. Hot pain slid up my bicep, and a choked scream left my throat as my sword hand faltered. Lorian was instantly there, his own sword cleaving the soldier’s chest.
“It’s not bad,” I protested, but he’d already ripped off a piece of his tunic to tie around the wound.
“Prisca.” His voice was gentle. I knew what he was going to say.
“No.”
“I want you to go,” Lorian murmured, as if I hadn’t spoken. His fist slid out and smashed into an approaching soldier’s face. The man dropped to his knees with a grunt, and Rythos kicked him off the wall. The soldier screamed for a brief moment. “With Galon,” Lorian continued. “Now.”
“You know I won’t leave you.” It felt as if he’d been shattered apart yesterday, an hour ago, a second ago. When I looked at him, all I could see was ice.
He gripped my chin, his green eyes burning into mine. “All of us will leave at some point. They’re going to take this city.”
“We go together. I’m not leaving you here, powerless.” Not after watching him die so recently.
“You make me insane.”
“I love you too.”
His lips twitched. Then I was in his arms, his mouth crashing down on mine. Within a moment, we were fighting back-to-back once more, the brief reprieve over.
I launched toward the soldier aiming for Lorian’s back, a feral snarl leaving my throat.
And then Marth screamed Rythos’s name.