Chapter 32
CHAPTER
“Don’t you think if I could have just shapeshifted my way through the prison, provided her a portal stone, and whisked her away, I’d have done that already?
” Saryn snarled at us. “I am telling you, Zarif is capable of more than any of us can imagine. There’s no telling what kind of darkness lies within him. ”
“Well, what do you know?” Trace interrogated. We had freed Saryn’s hands when completing the oath, but kept his ankles tightly bound to the chair. Varro stood at the ready to render him completely useless.
“He has warded Embry to that prison with very powerful and distinct magic, the likes of which I’ve only seen Idris display.”
“How do you know that?” Cairis probed, working to gain better understanding of just how much or how little Saryn had actually uncovered.
“Trust me. I’ve tried everything to get her out of there. Before I returned for the Offering, when we arrived back in Artume, and almost every day since,” Saryn said, defeated. “She doesn’t know it, but I believe if she leaves the confines of that prison while still warded, she is likely to die.”
So, Embry was trapped, and beyond just the physical bars of her cell. Zarif had done something to keep her contained, and Saryn had failed to make any progress penetrating it.
Gia’s frustration continued to grow. “I know little of wards; how does that even work? More than that, what are our options?”
“I believe she’s blood-warded, akin to how we kept you all at Basdie,” Saryn answered.
“What does that mean?”
Saryn clenched his teeth in the kind of frustration one sees from a teacher disappointed in their disciples’ shortcomings.
“Fuck, Gia, did you read a single book while at Basdie?”
She interrupted him before he could continue to berate her. “I’ll have them gag you if you speak to me like that again…traitor,” she added with a huff.
“Traitor he may be, but he is now tied to us with his life, so spare me the dramatics,” Varro said impatiently, trying to keep us all focused.
Trace spoke calmly from where he had posted himself by the window. “If she is, in fact, blood-warded, then she’ll only be free when Zarif is dead. Unless you have something worth trading for her…”
Saryn hung his head, as if he’d thought this through many times already. “I love Embry, but she is not what he has his sights set on. He plans to sail that armada he’s building straight to the shores of Cambria, and that is what we should be concerned about.”
“With what army?” Cairis snorted, skepticism dripping from his tone. “From what I’ve gathered, their military is small, poorly trained, and no match for Aeon’s.”
“Your intelligence is wrong then!” Saryn snapped. “Zarif and Silas have quietly recruited a significant militia, preying on the fear and indignance left in the wake of each Northern-blamed catastrophe. Commoners and wealthy merchants alike are lining up to pledge their allegiance.”
“Even if that’s true, a vendetta does not a soldier make.”
“They’re training them to fly, and fly well. Can any of you blind fools guess why they’d want moonstones, an armada, and an aerial army?”
The silence sat heavily between us, each of us lost in our imaginations, thinking through Artume’s plan.
Suddenly, Varro’s silky voice broke through the awkward contemplation.
“You have to have been where you’re going in order to portal.
None of these Southerners have stepped foot on Cambrian soil…
but…” he pontificated, “But if they saw it with their own eyes, then they might be able to successfully portal…from a ship.” His last words came out in a whisper of horror.
“Gods…” I blurted out, not realizing I had spoken the thought aloud. “How many? How many, Saryn?”
“Hundreds, possibly thousands if we didn’t cut off the moonstone supply quickly enough.”
Varro had a worried expression, and Trace’s resolve quickly turned into a furrowed brow as I watched him clench his dagger in its sheath.
“If they succeed, then Cambrian forces would be unprepared for such an attack. They’ve never encountered power such as those stones possess,” I surmised, fear mounting with each passing minute.
“Precisely,” Saryn confirmed, glad we were all finally catching on.
“Aeon’s forces will be patiently waiting at the shoreline, thinking the likes of their catapults and volleys of flaming arrows will be enough to push back the armada and deter them completely.
But the ships are merely the tactic to get line-of-sight. ”
Gia, the lesser-experienced of our group when it came to battle tactics, gasped, as if the vision of it was already playing out in her mind. “Will there be enough of them to drive back Aeon’s forces?”
Saryn explained that the Artumian Army, even if trained in flight and the use of moonstones, would suffer the same challenges as any Fae who attempted to portal.
They would likely try and land a small distance away from wherever the enemy forces congregated, flanking them, and giving them a moment to recalibrate and gather their energy.
A portal jump from a ship at sea to the shoreline would be enough to exhaust even the most experienced among them.
But for inexperienced fighters—most of whom had spent their lives malnourished—the exhaustion of the act would be nearly instantaneous.
It’s unlikely any would try to make multiple jumps while airborne, which would only increase their chances of being struck by an arrow.
Success would see them across enemy lines, en masse and mostly uninjured.
And that’s something Aeon would not be prepared to defend against. There was always the possibility Cambria’s fighters could make it to them before they recovered, but more than likely they would still be in shock of what they’d witnessed.
Unable to organize quickly enough to confront the enemies bearing down on them from all sides.
Cairis brought up every possible argument or idea he could muster. With each defense, Saryn met him with an equally plausible answer.
“You mentioned Aeon’s catapults, but what about when paired with his canons? Could they inflict enough damage before the majority use their stones?”
“I have no doubt that Zarif would keep the armada a safe distance from the shoreline to ensure nothing breaches their defenses. They aren’t even warships. They’re merely transport boats. It’s laughable to refer to them as an armada, but regardless, we should treat them with the same severity.”
“Is that true?” Trace inquired to Varro.
“He’s not wrong. They barely have the proper supplies to build decent ships.
From what I’ve seen, they aren’t designed, built for, or stocked like any warship I’ve stepped foot on.
” Varro paused a moment. “Everything makes much more sense now… I can’t believe you didn’t tell us any of this!
” he yelled at Saryn, his voice raising.
Another rare demonstration of anger from my mate.
With every further detail Saryn shared, the frustration in the room tipped toward a boiling point.
Tensions ran high, sharp-tongued insults were easily strewn about, and the most vexing part of all was the feeling that if we had been privy to these details sooner, we could have prepared, planned better.
We could have taken action. Saryn and Theory had instilled in all of us that a good plan was the foundation of achievement, but Saryn had fucked us royally.
Nightfall came, and the room was now illuminated with candlelight, heating the already dry air.
The next hour consisted of more arguing, trying to deduce the possibility of how many moonstones were already in their possession, and twice we had to hold back Gia from taking off to go burn down the entire fleet—which was an idea we entertained for a moment; except, the ships weren’t the actual problem.
The real problem were the moonstones. We didn’t know where they were being kept, and as long as those belonged to Zarif, the threat remained intact. Ships or no ships.
Saryn warned us that, as with most rebellions, cutting one insurgent off at the head only grows another.
The entire situation frustrated me beyond comprehension.
So many had already been maimed or killed to spread their lies.
So many minds and hearts poisoned against the North.
This battle, however it unfolded, promised to keep Zarif and the king’s true motivations concealed beneath a pile of casualties.
How they were betrayed by their own royal family.
How they were manipulated, their fears preyed upon.
Our inability to resolve the matter with diplomacy or even espionage caused me to question our methods.
In many ways, I felt caught up in its unstoppable momentum.
All the theater of it, dressing up and acting the part. All of the spying and pretending seemed a waste of effort. Varro could sense the somber hopelessness constricting me, whispering down the bond, “It’s going to be ok.”
Through gritted teeth and fighting back tears, I slammed my balled fists onto the table in front of me. “So, what can we do, Saryn? Tell us!”
“I have ideas, but you’re not going to like them.”
Trace looked at Varro with concern, and there was something ominous about their willingness to work together.
“The first and simplest part is Nasallus. Gia, you will remain here, tending to the king. There’s no chance that spoiled princeling is going to do his own dirty work.”
Gia looked disappointed in her role that implied more babysitting than action. Gia’s pristine and beautiful exterior betrayed the brutality of her true nature.
Saryn, knowing this, added, “You’re finally going to get to put him to the blade. Or, whatever your preference is these days.”
Gia’s smile widened at that, her eyes alight with the excitement of killing the male who had been putting his greedy hands all over her for far too long. Cairis grinned and nodded at Gia, knowing how much she reveled in this instruction.
“I’d be delighted,” she replied sinisterly.
Saryn guided Gia through the approach. When the mission to Cambria was well underway, this would leave Silas at the castle with only the protection of a few Kingsguards.
His powerful Hand would certainly be leading the efforts at sea, and this would create the opportunity for her to dispose of the false king, shapeshift into a guard, and make her way to the prison cells to keep watch on Embry till the wards fell and both were safe to escape.
“But how will I know when it’s safe to get her out of there? I could accidentally kill her if we make our move too soon,” Gia reasoned.
“Once I confirm Zarif is no more, I will alert her down the bond so you two can get out of there.”
“Wait, she knows what’s going on? You’ve communicated through your bond?” Cairis asked, trying to understand just how much Embry had known.
“She knows nothing,” Saryn declared with heavy sadness. “I haven’t spoken to her through our bond since before I returned to Basdie. I was too worried about jeopardizing her safety in doing so.” He paused and glanced at me. “She knows nothing, and it’s better that way.”
“But hasn’t she tried reaching you?” Gia wondered, having experienced the unique mind-melding herself when she was once bonded. I could see the melancholy overcoming her previously vengeful expression at the memory of her mate this must’ve drawn forth.
“She has…” Saryn admitted. His gaze remained fixed on me. “No matter how many times she screamed and pleaded down the bond for me to reply, I resisted.”
Before that moment, I don’t think I had ever seen Saryn appear broken.
Even for a minute. But in his eye, there was such deep, unbearable sorrow, that I almost winced at his pain.
The thought of hearing your mate beg for a reply, knowing you were alive but not responding…
An unspeakable torture. I felt my own bond ripple in response.
I glanced briefly at Varro and he looked at me knowingly.
A shared understanding of the pain this would cause a mate. One I hoped to never inflict upon him.
Saryn turned back to Gia. “As I said, once I’m sure Zarif is dead, I will relay a codename down the bond, instructing her to call it out as loudly as she can. When you hear her say that word, you get her the fuck out.”
He told Gia he did not care who she had to kill or what she had to do, but to escort her far from the castle, emphasizing the need to keep her hidden. If anyone discovered Princess Embry was alive, she would still be at risk. She was not to trust anyone with Embry other than members of the Imperi.
Gia nodded at his grave instructions, then asked, “What name will she call out?”
“Lazarus.”