28 PRISCA
The sudden storm had brought three days of pounding rain, the briny scent of the ocean overpowered by the unexpected, unyielding downpour.
To our right, the endless expanse of the sea stretched toward the horizon, its surface tumultuous under the gray sky as agitated, frothy waves crashed against the shore.
On our left, the foothills of the Normathe Mountains loomed as shadowy silhouettes, their verdant blanket of trees and shrubs obscured by rainfall. Occasionally, the land rose sharply, giving way to rocky outcrops that jutted out like the spines of an ancient beast. The rocky outcrops wept rivulets, and the path beneath our feet became a laborious slog through mud and puddles. The rhythmic march of our soldiers was replaced by splashes and curses as we all slipped and tripped.
The air was heavy with moisture, each breath I took laden with dampness that clung to my skin. The rain soaked through cloaks and uniforms, the chill seeping into our bones.
Would Daharak’s fleet make it through this storm? Or would we be on our own when we finally reached the mouth of the Asric Pass?
As dusk melded into the darkness of night, we began the miserable task of setting up camp in the relentless downpour. The sodden ground became a sea of mud that threatened to suck down tents. Each peg hammered into the earth ended up swimming in a shallow puddle. Several soldiers gaped at the sight of me attempting to set up my own tent while Lorian met with Galon. When Marth took over, I didn’t protest.
Two days later, the rain still showed no sign of abating. At night, it flooded tents, despite our best efforts to line them with cloaks and blankets. Galon and a group of twenty or so hybrids with power similar to his removed as much water as possible. But that water was quickly replaced as the deluge continued.
Visibility was reduced to mere shadows in the mist, the foothills half hidden in dense fog. Those with horses were forced to lead them through treacherous rivers of mud, which soon became torrents of water cascading into dangerous streams of fastmoving water and debris. Rockslides and mudslides were a constant threat, the rain loosening the earth and making our path perilous.
Galon and the others continued directing the water as much as possible. But they quickly burned through their power, deep lines of exhaustion on their faces.
Morale plummeted. Faces that just days ago had been lit with determination were now marked by misery. Even the simplest tasks became arduous—those with a connection to fire could light them for cooking, but the wood was soon soaked through, the unrelenting rain smothering any flames. Meals were eaten cold, while walking, unaccompanied by the usual banter.
Communication was reduced to hand signals and shouted commands. Lorian had broken the army into sections, giving each a trowth stone for communication. Those marching near the back bore the worst of the weather, the thousands of boots that came before them stirring the mud into deep, treacherous puddles.
This amount of rain, this close to the mountains, at this time of the year…
Every soldier marching with us was aware that it was unusual.
“What are they saying?” I asked Lorian as we led our horses through a particularly muddy section of path.
He was silent for a long moment. Because he wanted to protect me, I reminded myself. And yet, we didn’t have the luxury of sparing anyone’s feelings, especially my own.
“Lorian. I need to know.”
“Galon’s handling it, wildcat.”
“I can tell you what they’re saying,” Kaliera said scornfully.
Turning, I glanced over my shoulder. She sat on her horse, which was currently being led by a soldier. Previs, I think his name was.
Lorian made a warning sound in his throat. Kaliera either didn’t hear it or chose not to heed it.
“They’re saying you’re cursed. That the gods are punishing us for following you,” she announced, her voice loud enough that it would have carried through the first few lines of soldiers behind us.
“You’re not following,” Marth said. “You’re a prisoner.” He looked at me. “You sure you don’t want me to kill her?”
Previs tensed. Ah. She had gotten to him. I should have expected that. Next to Marth, Galon’s gaze lingered on the soldier. He’d noticed too.
“No,” I said. “We promised Jamic we wouldn’t.” A reminder of the son she claimed to love so much. The son currently with Lorian’s brother.
Yet Kaliera gave me a smug smile. Water dripped down her face. “Why exactly are we following you?” She glanced over her shoulder to where Zathrian was leading his own horse, the heavy manacles on his wrists clinking against the chain between them. “After all,” Kaliera said, raising her voice until she was almost yelling, “you no longer even have access to your power.”
Zathrian’s eyes met mine. And he smiled.
The sight of it set my teeth on edge. Hot fury roared through me. Perhaps I’d only imagined that voice screaming at me not to kill him. Already, the decision was proving to be a mistake.
His smile disappeared.
We were traveling beneath a shallow outcrop in an effort to avoid the worst of the rain. And it allowed me to hear the whispers that broke out among the soldiers marching in the front lines. Those whispers turned to murmurs.
Lorian had moved a few footspans ahead, checking the path for any slips or blockages. But a moment later, he was suddenly next to me, his movement so fast, I jolted, startling my poor horse.
Galon soothed my horse, murmuring to her as Lorian looked at Kaliera. I glanced over my shoulder and found the fae everyone had known as the Bloodthirsty Prince. His cheekbones looked sharper, his ears more pointed, and his eyes burned with barely restrained wrath.
Kaliera froze. Her skin slowly drained of color, and a fine tremble shuddered through her as she stared her death in the face.
Lorian’s gaze turned from her, flickering warningly over the soldiers in the front lines.
They went silent.
But it was too late. I had no doubt Kaliera’s words were making their way back through our army.
“Previs, switch with Reon,” Galon ordered.
The soldier nodded immediately. But he gave Kaliera one last glance as he turned.
Galon’s eyes lingered on him.
“We need to keep moving,” I said. I should have accounted for Kaliera’s poison. Should have ordered that only the most experienced, loyal soldiers were to interact with her.
Lorian leaned forward, ignoring the eyes on us as he placed a gentle kiss on my cheek. Shockingly, my eyes burned.
I was just tired. That’s all it was.
But as we continued marching toward our friends and families, who even now might be dying beneath Regner’s onslaught…
The insidious thought played over and over in my mind.
Perhaps the gods were punishing us.
Or perhaps they were punishing me for reclaiming my power. And everyone else would suffer for it.
Tonight would be our last chance to sleep before we were fighting for our lives. The moment the sun went down, everyone but the posted sentries crawled into their tents, taking whatever rest they could find. I found myself pacing the camp, listening to one of the children cry as his mother soothed him.
I’d never thought much about being a mother myself. Now, with Demos, I could almost see that future—just in time for me to accept that chances were low I’d live long enough for it.
Irony.
“Asinia.”
I turned to find Demos standing next to me. I hadn’t seen him for a few hours as he met with Herne and Vicer. I’d turned my attention to helping Tibris prepare the remaining hybrids to travel tomorrow.
Now, Demos gave me a look so heated, I almost blushed. But it was tempered by a deep tenderness that made my heart stutter in my chest.
He held out his hand. “Will you come to my tent?”
I knew what he was asking. We’d been sharing a tent since we arrived, but by the time Demos had fallen into the blankets next to me, I’d rarely woken. When I had, he’d been instantly asleep.
I didn’t hesitate, immediately taking his hand. “Yes.” The air was damp tonight, something that seemed unusual this close to the mountains, but Demos’s tent was cozy, a single light orb dancing above our heads, and several blankets hung in strategic places to buffer against any cool winds.
Demos turned to me. Cupping his face, I stroked my thumb along one of the small scars on his cheek. He turned his face into my hand, nuzzling my palm.
“You’re an incredible woman, Asinia. I knew it the moment I saw you struggling to survive in that cell. I knew it when you fought through the pain from your head wound to get to Prisca. And I knew it when you hauled me over your shoulder and carried my dead weight through the forest at night.”
My skin turned clammy at the memory. I’d thought I would lose him. Even now, I sometimes jolted from nightmares where I had lost him.
“You’re strong,” he said, bringing my mind back to this moment. “You’re loyal. You’re so beautiful it sometimes hurts to look at you. When I saw Tor…it brought up a lot of memories. Memories of being helpless when I lost the people I loved. And I pushed you away. I’m sorry for that.”
His eyes had darkened, but they remained serious as he watched me.
“I forgive you,” I said. “But you need to forgive yourself.”
He gave me a faint smile. “One day, perhaps.”
Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, the tip of my nose, my lips. I opened for him, and he wrapped one arm around me, pulling me close, until l could feel the thick heat of him against me.
I tensed.
Demos immediately lifted his head.
“Problem?”
“I’m just…it’s been a long time. And only once.”
His smile was wreathed in lust, tempered by something softer.
“Then we get to take this slow. I get to…savor you.”
Picking up my hand once more, he turned it over, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin along my inner wrist. Pure sensation danced along my arm, and he kissed his way up to my inner elbow.
My toes curled. And Demos took a step closer, guiding me back toward his bed.
Nerves fluttered in my stomach. I had wanted this for so long. Part of me was worried that we’d be interrupted again. But Demos was looking at me with eyes that seemed to see into my soul. And his mouth curved as if he’d found exactly what he was looking for.
My hands shook as I raised them to his tunic, attempting to push it over his head. Demos complied, revealing an expanse of smooth, golden skin gliding over rippling muscle.
His muscular body might have been intimidating if I hadn’t seen how carefully he wielded that large form. He knew his strength and made allowances without apologizing for what the gods had given him.
And why would he apologize? With his shirt off, he looked like a god himself.
“Your eyes are looking a little glazed, Sin.” His voice dripped with humor. Humor and smug satisfaction. I met his eyes, cheeks heating, but his smile was almost…shy.
His hands weren’t, though. They were already pulling my own tunic over my head, sliding teasingly across the flexible band covering my breasts. One day, I wanted to wear a pretty dress and lace for this man.
“What are you thinking?”
I told him, and his eyes heated. “Just the sight of you like this is almost bringing me to my knees. Have mercy before you make promises like that.”
His arms flexed as he slid them to my ass, and my breath hitched when he lifted me, slowly lowering me down onto the bed.
“You belong here,” he said. “I hope you know what you’re signing up for, Sin, because I’m feeling possessive.”
When he leaned close enough to touch, my hands found him again, stroking over his chest, his back. His eyelids drooped to half-mast.
“Good,” I murmured. “Because I’m feeling possessive too.”
Leaning down, he nipped my chin, the movement so unexpected, I laughed. My laugh turned to a hiss as he slid down my body, his teeth gently teasing as he stroked his tongue against places I hadn’t known could be so sensitive.
I let out a gasping moan, and he went still.
“Make that sound again.”
My cheeks blazed, and I clamped my mouth shut.
Demos gave me a slow, wicked grin. “I guess I’ll just have to make you.”
His mouth dropped, and this time, I barely breathed. A fine trembling began in my limbs, and Demos muttered a curse, green-gold eyes meeting mine. He slid his hands to the waistband of my leggings.
“Yes?”
Breathlessly, I nodded. His gaze never left my face as he rolled them down, helping me kick free of them. His eyes stayed on mine as his mouth lowered, pressing kisses across my hips, stomach, inner thighs.
Another moan-gasp, and I felt him smile against my skin.
And then I was bared for him, and he let out a rough sound of his own. His warm breath caressed my skin, and I shivered.
“Tell me you want this.”
“You know I do.” Sliding my hands into his dark hair, I smiled.
Without hesitation, Demos pushed my thighs apart and dropped his mouth to my core.
My cheeks flamed. “Oh!”
His eyes rolled up and looked at me. He didn’t move.
Until…
A long, wicked swipe of his tongue.
“Ohhh.”
He chuckled against me, and that created a whole new sensation. A sensation that made me arch, gasping for him.
“You taste so good,” he murmured. And then he was lapping at me, his tongue circling my clit. One finger pushed inside me, and I moaned. Another finger, and the world narrowed until all I could see, all I could feel, was him.
He varied the pressure, his pace. Sweat broke out over my skin. My nipples were so hard they ached.
“Demos.”
It was as if his name was the key. Lowering his mouth to me once more, he didn’t stop this time. Didn’t stop until I was crying out his name again, my climax thundering through me, on and on.
When I came back to myself, he was standing in front of the bed, his pants gone. And he was looking at me like I was all he’d ever wanted.
His cock was long and thick. Intimidating, if I was being honest. But when I looked at it, my mouth watered.
Demos cursed as I rolled up, crawling toward him.
“Not tonight.”
“I want to make you feel good.”
“You do. Gods, you do. But I want you too much.” The words were a stark admission. “And I need to be inside you.”
He met me on the bed, his hand sliding into my hair and holding me in place for him as he took my mouth. My thighs clenched, and I slid my hand down, circling his cock.
“You’re big.”
“I’ll fit.”
My back hit the bed, and Demos pushed my thighs wide, settling himself in between them. “We go at your pace. You need to stop…”
“I won’t.”
He gave me a look. It was the same look he’d often given me in the training arena right before he’d muttered about stubborn women, and I choked on a laugh.
And then he was pushing inside me, and my nails were digging into his forearms.
He froze.
“I’m fine. I just…”
Leaning down, he nuzzled my neck. I could feel him trembling now, could feel his need. But he didn’t move an inch. Except for the hand he was sliding down my belly.
When he found my sensitive clit, I gasped. The gasp turned into a moan, which Demos caught with his mouth. I angled my hips, needing him inside me.
“Shh, Sin. Slowly.”
But I didn’t need slow. His hand was featherlight against me, and he wouldn’t move.
Wrapping my legs around his waist, I angled for him, and he thrust inside me.
He froze again.
“Don’t stop,” I snarled.
Lifting his head, he met my eyes. And he didn’t stop.
Angling me so he caressed my clit each time he thrust, Demos finally took what he wanted.
Giving me what I needed.
I panted, and he found my mouth, stroking his tongue against mine, until the need to breathe was secondary to my need for him.
My entire body felt as if it was a burning flame. And Demos drove those flames higher as his thick cock plunged into me, slowly dragged out, and then drove in again. He hit a new angle each time, until he found a spot that made me tighten even further around him.
“There, huh?”
Leaning up on one arm, he cupped my cheek with the other, watching me until some part of me wanted to hide. But he wasn’t analyzing each reaction from a place of cool distance. No, each time I moaned or gasped or tensed, his expression grew tighter, his eyes burned brighter. And my body came alive in a way it never had before, as if tiny sparks were darting along my every nerve.
“I want centuries with you.” He pressed a kiss to my mouth, his thrusts increasing in speed. “Just like this.”
He slid his hand to the back of my head, cradling it as his lips caressed mine.
“I love you.”
The words were stark. Almost solemn.
My breath caught, and my release hit like a storm, my body shuddering as pleasure careened through me.
Cursing, Demos drove deeper, drawing out my climax, until he tensed and I felt warmth, felt him pulsing within me as his arms tightened around my body, holding me tight.
“I love you too,” I gasped. He lifted his head. But now that the words were out, I couldn’t believe I’d waited so long. “I love you too.”
We dozed for a while, neither of us speaking about what would happen tomorrow. And then Demos shifted, pressing a kiss to my temple.
“Wait here,” he murmured.
When he returned, I was almost asleep, my eyes heavy-lidded.
The cool night air swept into the tent as Demos stepped inside, and I shivered, sitting up.
For the first time since I’d known him, Demos looked almost…uncertain.
I dropped my gaze to the crossbow in his hand and shot up in bed. “What happened? Are we under attack?”
“No.” Crossing the room, he held it out to me. “I had this commissioned for you before we left. I asked Tibris to bring it with him.”
My hand shook as I took the crossbow. Crafted with meticulous attention to detail, it seamlessly blended both beauty and lethality.
The stock was carved from some kind of dark wood. Whatever it was, it felt sturdy yet surprisingly light in my hands. Its surface was so smooth, it felt almost like silk when I ran my hand across it, broken only by a delicate pattern engraved along the wood.
The limbs of the crossbow were flexible, but they’d been reinforced with something. I could feel the strength when I pressed on one of them. And the bowstring… it hummed softly when I plucked it, the sound almost familiar.
I brushed my fingers across the trigger mechanism. I could tell the release would be as smooth as butter.
“You’ll need to—”
His words broke off as I looked up at him, my eyes filled with tears.
I’d never been given a gift like this before. A gift that was so…me. A gift that combined beauty with necessity and had been created to make my life easier.
“You like it,” he smiled.
“It’s incredible, Demos, truly.”
He handed me a new quiver filled with sleek arrows. “To go with it.”
I took them, placing them next to the bed. “You had this commissioned in Gromalia. Before we left the castle.”
He nodded.
I watched him some more. I’d been so confused by him. So irritated. I’d understood he was hurting after seeing Tor, but I’d hated that he was pushing me away. It had felt like he’d only cared about me sometimes.
But even as we’d readied for war, he’d been thinking of me.
I glanced back down at the crossbow in my arms. He could have commissioned something plain. Sturdy. But he’d taken the time to ensure it was something I would find beautiful. My stomach tumbled, and the grin that broke out on my face was so wide, my cheeks ached.
“I love it.”
“Good. I had a protection charm placed within it.”
Of course he had.
Burying my hand in his shirt, I pulled him closer, showing my appreciation with a kiss. Our kiss deepened, and before I knew it, I was riding him with a crazed desperation.
We dozed for a few more hours, made love once more, and the next time I opened my eyes, the tent had lightened.
The air in my lungs froze, and I took several moments to come to terms with what that meant.
The sun was rising.
Demos stroked my back. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
I lifted my head, finding him looking down at me. Each time he told me that, I heard what he was saying. That he would prioritize my life over his own.
“Stop. I don’t want to think like that. I don’t want you to think like that.”
He just watched me. My heart was pounding in my throat, and my entire body felt like it was suddenly too small. Demos was the kind of man who would sacrifice himself for the people he loved in the blink of an eye. He’d barely known Pris before he took an arrow for Tibris— all so she wouldn’t have to face losing the brother she’d known for longer than him.
I sat up, rolling out of bed. I needed to move. Needed to do something about the unrestrained fury that burned through me at the thought of Demos not being here when all of this was over.
He was standing a moment later, my hand in his. “Sin.”
“I want you to focus on staying alive,” I said.
He pressed his lips to my cheek, my jaw, my neck. “Of course I will.” His tone was slightly affronted. Teasing. “I’m looking forward to having you all to myself.”
Demos stepped away to pull on his clothes. I did the same. And even with the undercurrents simmering in this tent with us…
Readying myself for the day with him felt natural. As if we had been doing it for years.
I pulled on my boots and picked up my crossbow, still admiring it. When I raised my head, I caught Demos’s lips quirk, but he also looked…proud.
“You should go work with it,” he said. “It’s a new weapon. You need to get a feel for it.”
“Do I have time?”
He strode toward me, and my skin tingled as he gave me one of his smirks. “I’ll cover for you.”
His mouth found mine, and the world disappeared for just a few moments.
But boots had begun to march past our tent, and he sighed against my lips. “I’ll see you soon.”
When he left, I stared around the empty tent, the crossbow in my hand, and just soaked in everything that had happened.
We had a future. I knew we did. And I wouldn’t let Regner take it from us.
Grabbing my new quiver, I strode out of the tent, making my way to the small training area one of Vicer’s people directed me to.
The space was little more than a narrow clearing for swordplay, with a lone target set up for archers. It was quieter here, the tense voices of the camp little more than a murmur as I plucked my first arrow and loaded it.
The crossbow was surprisingly light, and yet its balance was perfect. It fit into my hands as if created specifically for them––as if Demos had somehow measured the width of my palms, the length of my fingers.
The bowstring was made of a material I didn’t recognize. It was both supple and strong, pulling back smoothly with far less effort than I was accustomed to.
The sighting mechanism had been refined, making it easier to align my shots. I could already tell that it would improve my long-distance accuracy.
I released the bolt. The arrow cut through the air with minimal deviation, its flight almost impervious to the light breeze I’d almost compensated for.
I hadn’t needed to compensate.
Thunk.
Holy gods. This crossbow was better than sex.
Well, better than sex with anyone but Demos.
I laughed to myself as I reached back into the quiver slung over my shoulder for my next arrow. I was completely, entirely swept up in the thought of spending the rest of my life with the autocratic, overprotective hybrid prince. My best friend’s brother.
At least I knew Prisca would be delighted.
Thunk.
Each arrow flew true, the crossbow’s superior construction minimizing the usual variables that affected my accuracy—even when I was allowing my power to trickle down from the deep lake within me. Its lighter weight meant my arms and shoulders wouldn’t be as strained during battle, and the smoother mechanism would reduce the wear on my fingers.
The target blurred in front of me and my eyes stung. It still rocked me—that even when he’d been impossible to talk to, Demos had arranged for this weapon to be created just for me. It was a fae weapon—I could already tell. And to me, it was priceless.
Striding to the wood, I plucked the arrows free, marveling at them as I tucked them away. I’d already lingered too long, but it would be worth it later today, when I instinctively knew the capabilities of this crossbow.
Making my way back to everyone else, I took in the group of hybrids gathered at the edge of the camp. They huddled together, mothers carrying children in their arms, the elderly helped by those who were too young to fight. Tibris stood in front of them, speaking slowly and carefully, Herne by his side. Tibris must have said something amusing, because several people laughed, and some of the tension seemed to disappear.
And then Telean crossed the camp, her canvas bag slung over her shoulder. She was murmuring to a dark-haired woman with the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. Ameri. That was her name. We’d only met a couple of times before, but I’d never seen such an intense expression on her face.
With a nod, Telean said her goodbyes to Ameri, who hurried away. Telean went to Tibris first. His face grew grave, and he nodded at whatever she said. When he gestured at me, she turned.
I met her halfway.
“You’ll keep Demos safe.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes,” I vowed. “I’ll keep him safe.”
“Telean.” Demos’s voice was thick with warning, but I heard the grief beneath it.
We both turned. He planted his hands on his hips, but Telean waved her hand through the air. “You’ll keep each other safe,” she amended. “Now come and give me a kiss.”
A strange disquiet filled me as I watched him lean down and wrap her in his arms. A single tear rolled down her cheek, and she clutched him to her with everything she had.
Someone called out, and she untangled herself from him. “Kill Regner,” she ordered.
“We will.”
With a last glance at me, she turned and joined the group gathered at the edge of camp. Moments later, they began moving out of the camp toward the pass, a group of hybrid soldiers traveling with them.
Several voices were calling out to one another to my right. As I watched, a large group of soldiers hauled a massive tree trunk out of the forest and into the clearing. They set it down with a thud, immediately jumping out of the way for the next tree. And the next.
I jumped into position to help them roll one of the larger trunks across the camp. That tree became the base for the wall on the other side.
We worked for hours. The tree trunks formed a crude but effective wall. The natural curve of the wood meant that the trees nestled somewhat awkwardly against each other, leaving gaps that were both a vulnerability and a vantage point. I began snapping off branches, weaving them into the gaps to create a dense mesh of wood and leaves.
While we worked, I was conscious of Demos sharpening weapons, pausing to give a thoughtful word to a group of soldiers, working with Herne to plan our defense.
And with every minute that passed, my hands shook and my mouth grew even drier, until I found myself continually gulping at my waterskin.
It was still hours before sunset when one of the scouts arrived, his breath coming in sharp pants, his eyes wide.
“They’re almost here.”
Another large group of hybrids had arrived not long ago. They’d taken one look at the barricade, and their eyes had filled with dread. Several families had entered the pass at a run.
They would not die today.
I said the words over and over.
The little girl who had waved to me over her mother’s shoulder, too young to understand the danger she was in. She would not die today.
The group of young boys, lips trembling, who’d offered to stay and fight—only for Demos to crouch down and tell them gently that he needed such brave soldiers to guard the others on the way through the pass.
They would not die today.
The camp mother who’d insisted on cooking one last meal for as many soldiers as she could, before Tibris made her leave—her eyes filled with tears as she’d watched those soldiers get into position.
She would not die today.
My head whirled, and I was suddenly in Demos’s arms.
His mouth crashed down on mine, and I let out a choked sob, my hands clutching his shirt, pulling him close.
Someone called to him, and he pulled away, his gaze still on my face. My body ached at the loss of his warmth. “No stupid risks.”
“From you either.”
He nodded. His gaze swept over my face. And he tucked a strand of my hair behind one ear.
“Into position, Sin.” Demos turned, striding toward our meager front lines.
Screams sounded. One of Regner’s soldiers had encountered one of Herne’s traps.
Terror punched into me.
They were here.