26 ASINIA
It took us another day and a half to meet up with Vicer and the hybrids. We’d traveled through most of the night, stopping only to allow the horses to rest and grabbing a few hours of sleep ourselves.
We found their camp a day’s ride from the foothills of the Asric Mountains, along the Eprothan and Fae border. The circles beneath Vicer’s eyes were so dark they looked almost like ink, and I wrapped him in a hug. He patted me on the back. “Good to see you, Asinia.”
“Where can we talk?” Demos asked.
Vicer led us to his tent. Firion created a sound ward, and Demos gave him a nod of thanks. The rest of us sat on the ground. Even the fae seemed exhausted from how hard we’d pushed ourselves to get to Vicer.
But Demos turned and poked his head out of the tent. “I need Stillcrest,” he said to someone. “Bring her here.”
When he turned back to face us, his gaze found Vicer’s. “What happened?”
Strands of Vicer’s hair had come loose from the low ponytail he usually wore, and he shoved them off his face.
“Finley wasn’t the only spider in our ranks. Weapons began going missing, horses were suddenly lame, porridge caused a food-poisoning outbreak so extensive that we lost an entire day of marching. The weather turned, and everyone seemed to become sick again at once. We attempted to keep those who were coughing separated from the others, but…” His voice trailed off.
“Do you have your suspicions?” Demos asked.
“Yes. I’ve got my most trusted people watching anyone suspected of being one of Regner’s spiders, but I have to be absolutely sure they aren’t arresting the innocent.” He let out a bitter laugh. “You’d think it might help that Regner’s webs usually appear on faces, necks, and throats once his spiders begin carrying out their orders. But it’s horrific for morale. Soldiers have begun harboring distrust for the people they sleep and march next to. When the porridge was fouled, one of the cooks slit his own throat right after everyone had been served. And every inch of his face was covered with a black web.”
My head spun at the image his words conjured. Demos had once told me that trust was everything in war. You had to trust that the soldier next to you would hold the line until the moment he died. If he turned to run, so would others, and all would be lost. Battles across our history had been won and lost based not just on weapons, weather, or location. But also due to courage, friendship, and bravery.
Demos’s lips thinned. “Send a message to Rekja,” he ordered Firion. “Tell him to protect Tor with everything he has. I don’t want anyone near him except Rekja and Thora.”
My mouth turned watery. Of course. With so many spiders beginning to reveal themselves, it was likely one of them was close to Tor. And any who were magically bound to protect Regner would know that Tor was currently the human king’s biggest threat.
Firion nodded, stepping out of the tent as Kaelin Stillcrest walked in. I hadn’t thought she could look much worse than the last time I’d seen her. But I’d been wrong.
Oh, she’d put on some much-needed weight since Prisca and Lorian’s wedding. But her cheeks were sunken, and she appeared as if she were sleepwalking. There was no life in her eyes. Nothing except cold determination.
Stillcrest didn’t say a word, and Vicer didn’t look at her.
Demos told them of Regner’s plans to attack the hybrids at the pass.
Stillcrest closed her eyes, her face draining of color.
And Vicer…
He folded like a puppet with its strings cut. His knees weakened until Demos leaped forward, guiding him down until he sat on the ground. Vicer’s eyes filled, and for the first time since I’d known him, his face was a mask of pure, unrelenting hopelessness. My gut clenched. After everything Vicer had seen and done for hybrids across Eprotha and Gromalia, this was the moment that might break him.
“We haven’t had enough time,” Vicer said dully. “As soon as Regner’s soldiers were dead, the elders began leading anyone who made it through the pass to the tunnel that would take them home. But the journey to the first camp was long and dangerous. And the rain made the pass itself treacherous. Less than half of the people we’d thought would have made it through the pass have relocated to the other side of the mountains. The rest have been waiting at the temporary camp at the mouth of the pass. And more hybrids are arriving there every day.”
Urgency pushed me to my feet, and I gazed down at him. “You need to get word to the hybrids waiting at the mouth of the pass. They don’t have long to get to the tunnel before Regner’s fleet arrives.”
Demos turned to Stillcrest. “I need you to tell our generals everything you know about the pass through the Normathe Mountains. Any details you can remember. Anything that could help our people travel through the range more quickly.”
She nodded. Her gaze darted around until it met mine. The sudden intensity in her eyes was almost shocking.
“We’re all going to die, aren’t we?”
I jolted. She was still looking at me, as if she couldn’t trust anything Vicer or Demos would say. I opened my mouth.
And it hit me.
Yes. There was a good possibility we were going to die. When I was trapped in Regner’s dungeon, I’d had nothing to focus on but my looming death. But now…now I’d turned my attention to everything except the reality of the battle to come. I hadn’t let myself understand the reality of what our numbers meant compared to Regner’s.
Until this moment.
Stillcrest’s gaze burned into mine. I swallowed, and her expression turned blank.
“We’re going to get to the pass before Regner’s regiment. And we’re going to hold the line until help comes,” Demos said.
Stillcrest nodded. But her gaze dropped to the ground. He hadn’t answered her question. And that was an answer itself.
“I know you’ve been traveling as quickly as possible, given the circumstances,” Demos said to Vicer. “But we need to have this camp moving again at first light. Any who are unable to travel will stay behind, but they will be expected to follow tomorrow. We have no time to waste.”
Vicer nodded. “We were planning to leave at first light anyway. There are a few empty tents for you. I’ll show you where they are.”
I followed him gratefully, more than ready to try to block out the world and get a few hours of sleep. The tents were close to Vicer’s own, and I wasn’t entirely surprised when Demos took my hand and led me inside the tent he’d been designated. He sat on the small stool, and his head fell forward, until it was resting against my stomach. I ran my fingers through his hair.
“I should have seen this coming,” he said.
“I hadn’t realized you were a seer,” I said mildly.
He snorted, but he didn’t lift his head.
“I just don’t understand how Regner got to our people. They’re not children.”
I scratched his scalp gently with my nails, and he arched his head like a cat. “He’s wielding that grimoire in newer, even more terrifying ways. Hiding all those ships so he could sink half of Daharak’s fleet… If he’d been able to do that even months ago, Daharak herself would be dead by now.”
Demos lifted his head. His eyes were a little glazed, but they cleared as he watched me. “The more he uses the grimoire, the more he can do with it.”
Slowly, he got to his feet. “That’s why he wants to go to war now. He’s the strongest he’s ever been. And some part of him must know the dark god is coming for that grimoire. Regner needs to solidify his hold on this continent before that happens.”
Despair gnawed at me. If Demos felt any hint of that emotion, it wasn’t evident. His eyes were steady, focused.
“I won’t let you die. You know that, don’t you?”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it once more. “Demos…”
“I saw your face in that tent. When Stillcrest said we would die. And I want you to know, I will do whatever it takes to keep you alive, Asinia. You’re going to live through this. I promise.”
“Don’t, Demos. Don’t promise me that.” I knew this man well enough to know he kept his word. Only the gods knew what or whom he would sacrifice to keep that promise.
He just gave me a sad smile.
“This isn’t how I wanted us to do this,” he murmured, pushing back a strand of hair that had broken free of my braid. “And I have only myself to blame for wasting so much time. I kept telling myself there would be more time later for me to become the man you deserved. I was sure that once we won this war, I could do this properly. I could court you.”
He leaned even closer, until we were inches apart. His fingers gently traced my face, his gaze following each stroke, as if he was memorizing it. Green-gold eyes met mine, and my breath caught.
“I wasn’t being completely honest when I told you I didn’t know what I wanted. That I hadn’t let myself think about what comes after this war. The truth is, I want to know you’re safe. That you’re happy and fulfilled. That you’re creating beautiful clothes and living the life you always dreamed of in that village. And if I’m still breathing, I want to be part of that life.”
My heart was pounding so hard, I could hear it in my ears. My vision swam. “You will be breathing. Promise me.”
He grinned, looking suddenly younger. And I could see a hint of the man he might be one day when he didn’t spend those days consumed by war and death. A man who smiled often, who used his strategic mind in ways that improved people’s lives, instead of those that caused death. A man who came home each night and kissed me lavishly before dropping to the floor to play with our children.
I could see that life. It was so close, I could almost touch it. And yet, it also seemed like an impossible dream.
“I promise,” he said. “I’ll be there. If you’ll have me.” He cupped my cheek, his thumb gently brushing away a tear that had slipped free. “Now, promise me.”
“I promise.”
He moved his hand to the back of my head, and I sank into his kiss, breathing in the scent of him. Never could I have imagined that it would be Demos who would be the one person I needed. But looking back now…
From the moment we’d met, and he’d bullied and cajoled me into eating, forcing me to survive each night in that cell, this had always been inevitable.
“Ahem.” Someone coughed outside the tent. Clearly, Demos was needed.
I wanted to hold him to me, to demand that whoever was waiting leave us in peace.
But we were at war.
Demos pulled away with a long sigh. “Get some rest.” He glanced around. “Stay here.” In my tent, his eyes said when they met mine. Where you belong. “I’ll see you soon.”
Asinia and Demos had the amulet.
Over the past days, I’d repeated that thought over and over, until it seemed to echo inside my mind. Armies took time to move. And this feeling of helplessness, the urge to do something, was tearing me apart.
But we now had all three amulets and Tor. I had to believe it would be enough to kill Regner and end this war.
My horse shifted beneath me, likely sensing my anxiety. Next to me, Lorian glanced my way. Concern flickered in his gaze as he ran his eyes over my face.
I nodded at him, and he turned in his saddle, surveying the soldiers formed in their lines behind us, supply wagons bringing up the rear.
Thankfully, we’d been in the process of packing up the camp, ready to march south. Still, learning the truth of Regner’s plans had filled us with a new urgency. I’d sent sixteen of our most powerful hybrids ahead in Regner’s ship, hoping they would reach our people quickly enough to buy us time.
My hand found my hourglass. Time. It all came down to time.
For the past two days, we’d marched south from the Cursed City, stopping only to sleep huddled around campfires each night. In the glow of those fires, I’d listened to the hybrid soldiers talk of war. They’d spoken of great, long-dead heroes. They’d told stories about battles past, each retelling becoming more outlandish than the last. They’d laughed and boasted and gently mocked those who had never strode onto a battlefield.
My teeth had almost chattered in fear each time I’d thought about what was to come next. And I’d looked around at those soldiers—many of whom would be on the front lines—and wondered how they could speak so easily of the death and horror of war.
If not for their refusal to linger on the reality of what they were to face, these fathers and sisters and mothers and sons would be thinking of the people who might leave them, along with those they might leave behind. And so, it seemed as if they focused on the potential glory of battle instead.
When I mentioned this theory to Shara, a burly soldier with a long scar down the left side of her face, she nodded. “Bravery is a choice. However, you can’t wait until the moment you need to be brave to reach for that bravery. Because if you haven’t been purposefully tending to it, building it up, you may find that it is not there when you need it. You must stoke the fires of courage little by little, day by day, so they are burning bright long before you ever need them. And you fuel or douse those fires— fanning the flames or snuffing them out—with the words you say to yourself. And with the words you allow others to say about you in your presence.”
Now, as my horse plodded along, I let myself listen to the words I had been saying to myself since I’d woken in that cabin after bringing Lorian back. The words I’d stuffed down as much as I could.
And my cheeks burned.
I was a cheat. A woman who had ignored the laws of both humans and the gods. Someone who had violated the most fundamental rules of her own power. I was arrogant and prideful—refusing to admit that my actions were in any way wrong. Because Lorian had lived, and that was all that mattered to me.
The happiness I felt was stolen. Lorian was being haunted by the dead because of me.
And…
I took a shaky breath. Gods, it hurt to examine these thoughts.
But I dug deeper.
That little voice in my head taunted me about how none of this had needed to happen at all. I’d been given a prophecy, which I had studied night and day. If I had just understood what was happening three seconds earlier, Lorian would never have been struck by his brother’s power.
I’d failed. And then I’d covered up my own failure by cheating the gods.
And I would do it again.
“What is it, wildcat?” Lorian murmured.
“I’m just…thinking.”
I could feel his concern, but I couldn’t seem to look at him.
Not when I felt so unworthy.
Briefly closing my eyes, I poked at the place where my power should be.
Still nothing. And yet, somewhere along the way, my fury and frustration had turned to resignation. Depression. I’d accepted that my power was gone, thought only of how I would manage the loss of it.
And so, I glanced over my left shoulder, to where Zathrian was riding next to Kaliera, both of their hands manacled, the chain leading to Galon’s saddle.
My cousin’s eyes met mine, and he raised one brow.
“If you somehow lived through it, the fates would demand an equal sacrifice. The kind of sacrifice that would haunt you.”
When my power hadn’t returned, I’d assumed that was the sacrifice. And even as I’d hoped and wished for it to come back, to aid us in this war…Zathrian had been correct.
His voice played through my mind once more.
“I didn’t say they can’t hide magic. They can, after all, play with us in all kinds of diabolical ways.”
I’d weighed my power against Lorian’s life and considered them equal. I’d been more than willing to trade one for the other if it meant Lorian would live.
So, the gods had tricked me.
“That which can be hidden can also be found. Perhaps you didn’t truly want to find it. Or perhaps you just didn’t try hard enough.”
Just as I had in that tent, I attempted to push Zathrian’s words away.
But they continued to taunt me.
“You know what I think? I think you woke up without your power, and you subconsciously latched on to that as the punishment the gods gave you for turning back time those few seconds. Some part of you was relieved at the thought that the loss of your power was your punishment. Because it meant your punishment wouldn’tinvolve losing anyone else you loved in this war.”
If he was right…
My hands tightened on the reins, and my horse threw her head. I immediately loosened my grip, stroking her neck.
I didn’t know if I could live with the thought that I’d crippled myself during this war.
Lorian said something in a low voice to Galon.
And then we were stopping. Our eyes met, and I realized he was standing next to my horse, holding out his hand.
I allowed him to help me down.
“A brief break,” he said carefully. “For the soldiers to rest their feet.”
I nodded. “I need a moment,” I choked out.
Frustration flickered across his face. Lorian wasn’t used to feeling helpless. And he wouldn’t like the thought of me out of sight. Still, I knew he would allow it, if only because he could sense something was very wrong.
I took a short walk to a copse of trees nearby. When I was out of view, I took a deep breath.
Somehow, I’d rejected the very power that had allowed me to save Lorian’s life, suddenly fearful that I would use it again in a way that would make Telean disgusted in me. A way that would put more people at risk. After Stillcrest’s camp had been attacked, it was as if some part of me had decided it was my power that was at fault. Even though it was the choices I’d made with that power that had led to those consequences.
“You are my blood. And I expect better from my granddaughter than a queen who hands her power over toanyone.”
My grandmother had warned me. As much as she could. And directly after that conversation, I’d handed my power—both my time magic and my autonomy—over to the gods.
I closed my eyes. And this time, I didn’t merely prod at my power. I didn’t pull at the threads that usually came so easily to me.
No, I clutched a metaphorical sword and slashed blindly at whatever was keeping me from feeling my own magic.
And suddenly, I could feel it. The barest whisper of my power, hidden but not stolen. A heady rush surged through my veins.
My power wasn’t gone.
It wasn’t gone. It was merely trapped behind a wall of stone and fae iron.
The gods had hidden it. But I’d found it. And I would free it.
Some part of me still wished the gods truly had taken my power, even now. Because the thought of telling everyone I loved that I had done this to myself…
Nausea swept through my body, and I panted through it.
My power disappeared. As if it had never been there.
No. No, no, no!
I focused on the blade of my sword, sharpening it with every drop of willpower I had. Lengthening it with thoughts of the hybrids waiting for us. Strengthening it with the rage that burned within me. Drawing back my sword, I put everything into my next swing. The blade hit the stone and fae iron of the wall. And the wall began to crumble.
I heard a sob leave my throat, but I kept my eyes closed, even as I was suddenly encompassed in a deep, seething pool of disgust.
Zathrian was right. No one had done this to me. The gods hadn’t taken my power. I hadn’t burned it out.
No, I’d crippled myself. Which was much, much worse.
I’d made myself helpless. I’d made myself a victim.
And if I wasn’t careful, I’d build that wall higher around my power, using my own self-loathing.
I could feel it now—like a thick, angry black cloud, settling over the stone and fae iron in front of me.
No matter how much I crumbled that wall, it rebuilt. Again and again and again.
My chest ached, and I took a deep, shaky breath, searching for a new approach.
Leaning against the tree, I let the horrible, poisonous feelings flood through my body. My stomach turned, my limbs tingled, and my throat clogged.
For once, I didn’t push those feelings away. I didn’t pretend the voice in my head didn’t exist.
I felt all of the shame and disgust and fury and helplessness.
The world didn’t end. The feelings didn’t kill me. They came in waves, receding further each time.
And then…for a few seconds…I was at peace.
The feelings were still there, but muted somehow. I could think around them.
Allowing the feelings to swamp me if they wished— because I could handle them—I reached for my power.
And it leaped at me like a puppy who’d been left alone for days.
I snatched it to me, but I didn’t need to. My power was strong and deep…so deep, it was as if it had just been waiting for me to acknowledge it once more.
Clutching the hourglass hanging around my neck, I took another deep breath, opening my eyes.
I’d never agreed to play by the gods’ rules. I didn’t care that they said what I had done with my power was forbidden.
All that mattered was what I could do with my own power. Whatever possibilities that power gave me were mine to exploit.
I was done feeling guilty for using what I’d been born to wield. If there was the slightest chance I could use it in the same way to save someone I loved—and not die—I would do it again.
Nausea roiled through me. I needed to talk to Lorian. I would have to tell him what I’d done. How much I’d almost cost us. For a long moment, I wrestled with the shame of it. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.
“You can come,” I croaked out.
Lorian was instantly in front of me.
“What is it?”
“I have my power back.”
He nodded.
“You don’t seem surprised. You knew it was there, didn’t you?” For a moment, betrayal choked me. But it made sense. Galon and Marth must have known too. According to my cousin, the only reason I hadn’t known the gods’ limitations was because I’d grown up with humans.
“Your burnout was very real. But as it continued to go on, I knew the gods were playing some kind of trickery.”
I took a very careful step back. Lorian looked as if I’d hit him.
“Why wouldn’t you tell me this?”
“What do you think would have happened if I’d told you that you could access your power? That the gods were likely hiding it from you? I saw you with a headache every single day as you attempted to use it.”
“I would have become consumed by it,” I admitted. “I would have allowed myself to marinate in my own disgust. I would have second-guessed every single decision.”
Lorian cupped my cheek. “Some part of me wondered if the gods truly had taken your power, wildcat. They’re too interested in you. And if that had been the case, you needed to learn that you were just as deserving of your crown without it.” He stared down at me, studying my face. A faint frown tightened his brow. “Even now, after all we’ve been through, some part of you thought I’d turn on you when you told me.”
Denial rushed through me, and I clutched at his shirt. “No. I didn’t think you would turn on me. But I was nervous. I would never want to disappoint you.”
“I thought I’d made myself clear, wildcat. There is nothing you could do. Nothing you could tell me, no shame too great for you to share with me.”
Winding my arms around his neck, I tugged at him. Lorian didn’t hesitate, his lips caressing mine as his arms tightened around me.
“We need to get back,” I murmured against his mouth.
Reluctantly, he led me back to my horse. Galon passed down the message that we were about to begin marching once more.
Just as the first drops of rain hit my face.