Chapter Sixteen
I will always be with you; I’ll not fail you nor abandon you, so hold tight to your courage.
I stood on stage, dazed and queasy, peering out at the crowd. Anger and envy peered back at me. Other soldiers wanted to be where I was, and most believed I was only here because of the man I dated.
They didn’t know I wanted to be where they were. Not here, a member of a “special” team, meant to become the host of a god, I’d bet.
The royals passed by us, taking time to shake our hands and offer congratulations.
Summit paused to rake his gaze over me. “Not as useless as I first assumed. Good to know.”
Felix crooked his head, as if he couldn’t decide what to make of me. “Your relationship with Cyrus reminds me of what I shared with my wife.” The lack of emotion in his voice turned his sweet words into a threat. “I only hope your end is better than hers.”
I believed he loved his brother, but he also vied for king. For Astan?
Lolli squeezed my fingers too hard. “This changes nothing.”
Cyrus grazed his thumb over my knuckles and signed a message against my palm. I love you.
His silent declaration stuck with me long after the royals exited the stage and disappeared beyond a wall. I stood there, wanting to shout for him. To shout the truth to one and all. The need simmered and boiled within me, ready to spill from my lips at any second . . .
“Do not,” Domino said, appearing in my line of sight. Though transparent, he snatched my attention, the confession dying on my tongue. “The majority aren’t ready to listen. You’ll ruin your life for nothing.”
My lids slid closed, just for a moment. Let me go out rescuing innocents and those I loved, not wasting my breath.
Domino wasn’t done. “If nothing else, you’re safe. You and the others are now officially marked as potential hosts.”
Exactly what I’d suspected. A cold weight settled on my chest. I’d understood my connection to Cyrus might lead to my selection, but now that we were in the thick of it, I realized I wasn’t prepared.
“Behold, our extraordinary team of lords and ladies.” Mr. Vyle clapped, igniting a forced round of applause from the audience. “By the time you see these fine soldiers again, they’ll be a new class of warrior led by your new king.”
The cheering tapered to silence, unveiling more crackles of envy and disappointment that served as fuel for the pressure building inside me.
“Congratulations,” Mr. Vyle said to us before motioning to a baron who stood off to the side. “Go and await the royals, who will join you shortly.”
The baron led us from the stage and through a narrow corridor I’d never walked, to an underground garage where a luxurious bus waited. No sign of Cyrus. I guzzled unease fresh from the well. Where, exactly, were we going?
“I should get my stuff,” a soldier in front rushed out.
“You have everything you need,” the baron interjected, waving to the bus’s open door. A clear command.
We boarded single file, most trainees overjoyed.
A few of us remained quiet, obviously shell-shocked.
Plush leather seats stretched two to a row, stitched with gold thread and spaced wide enough for real legroom.
Soft-blue lighting ran in strips overhead, casting a calming glow against polished steel trim.
Each seat had a retractable screen on the back.
Winslet chose the spot beside Roman, leaving the too-smug and grinning Miller as my seatmate. I wasn’t upset by it.
To my surprise, familiar warmth uncoiled, the knowledge that a friend was near filling me. It didn’t spring from my bond to Domino. . . but Miller?
“Look at me.” He pumped a fist into the air. “I’m at the top of my class without notching my bedpost to get there.”
I arched a brow at him. Overcompensating to conceal his true affiliation? “Your talent for sucking the joy from every situation is unparalleled.”
He tsked under his breath. “Wow, Roosa. I aimed below the belt, but you just had to go and shoot above it. Wow,” he repeated, shaking his head as if greatly disappointed in my cruelty.
Here goes. “I know what you are,” I muttered for his ears alone, giving Lolli’s line a try.
He didn’t take the bait. “And what is that? Handsome? Elite? Perfect? Hate to break it to you, but everyone knows that. Or did you mean I’m not royal enough to crawl into bed with you?”
I gnashed my molars. Maybe he wasn’t the Soalian. And yet, the warmth. It only increased. But if he was the Soalian, he must be able to turn the telltale signs on and off. But did he do it at will?
Staring him straight in the eye, I replied, “You are my friend and ally, just as I’m yours.” Maybe he decoded my message. Maybe he didn’t. I’d put the hint out there, and it was now up to him.
If I was wrong, I was wrong. I’d deal with any consequences. Enough playing it safe at every turn. Great risk carried the potential for great reward.
He snorted, but he also searched my eyes, growing serious. Oh, he got it, all right. But what did he think of the notion that we might play for the same team? If he still did. Considering what Cyrus had told me about rogue glowers, people could choose to serve Soal, then later renounce him.
The very reason the high prince had urged me not to pursue this route. But Domino believed the other Soalian could help me. Today, I would trust his judgment, as I had not done on the battlefield. I needed help more than ever.
Finally, Miller twisted in his seat, facing forward, silent.
The royals boarded the bus, cleaned of blood. Unusually sharp determination filled Cyrus’s eyes. Though he knew better, he intended to come back here and either move Miller or escort me to the front.
With a shake of my head, I altered his plan. Don’t you dare single me out. Not here, not now. He paused abruptly, collected himself, then claimed the first available seat. High Princess Lolli took the seat across from his without glancing in my direction.
Interesting. Whatever he’d said to her on that dais had an impact. To my surprise, Miller didn’t comment on the obvious interaction.
A voice spilled from an intercom, silencing every conversation. “Buckle up. We’re going through some rough terrain, but we’ll stop for nothing.”
I obeyed as the bus drove up a winding ramp and exited the garage, entering Theirland. I peered out the window, unable to see through the gloom. None of us sported goggles, yet no one suffered from symptoms of RVM.
“The windows must be made of the same stuff as our lenses,” Roman observed, tapping the glass.
Well. No wonder I couldn’t see past the gloom. A fact I celebrated as we bumped along a path at full speed, eliciting telling thud after thud. We were either running over dead bodies or slamming into feeders.
The vehicle careened left, verging on the tipping point, and I could only hold on for dear life, my heart pounding. True to the driver’s word, we didn’t stop until we reached our destination.
The royals disembarked first, but trainees weren’t far behind them.
I gawked as I emerged into a wonderland.
A clear dome covered a well-lit lawn and glinted off a rippling moat, extending over the emperor’s palace.
A home designed in dreams and fairy tales—and forged in nightmares.
It was massive, made of glittering crystals edged with gold, but countless shadows danced around the highest points.
They all had eyes. Icy fingers of dread skittered over my spine. Madness, Madness, all around.
Just in case non-Soalians shouldn’t notice the shadows, I resumed my examination. Lush plants grew in abundance, as heavy with fruit as those in the Library of Soal. The water gleamed with an ominous pinkish tint as ripples spread over the surface. Something big must be swimming beneath.
I had no problem seeing the world beyond the dome’s transparent, shimmering veil. A field of dry briars and parasitic weeds, with feeders wandering aimlessly, their heads bowed and their shoulders stooped. Even the worms on their scalps hung limp. Why so lifeless?
“This way.” Mr. Vyle ushered us along a long gold-brick bridge dotted with statues of various dragon-type creatures, their eyes studded in rubies. I knew of only one dragon, Bala, Astan’s beloved pet, but I should’ve guessed there were others.
I bit the inside of my cheek. Did they awaken too?
Mr. Vyle reached out to trace a crack in the calf of a statue of Astan. A reverent, affectionate brush that set my nerves on edge.
The beginning of the end.
A countdown kicked off, seconds vanishing, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Tick tock. Tick tock.
The blood in my veins chilled, yet perspiration dotted my hands. I zoomed my gaze to Cyrus. His head was lifted high, his shoulders back, and his stride confident.
We stand in a stalemate, the battlefield between us a nightmare of lifeless bodies and scattered limbs bathed in the unflinching light of Theirland’s twin suns.
Lavender and gold streak the sky, casting an eerie glow over the blood-soaked earth, where rivers of crimson carve fresh paths through the flatland.
Overhead, a restless flock of scavenger birds circles, their shrill cries piercing the thick, heavy silence as they await their feast.
A fresh wave of CURED soldiers floods in, surging from behind the former high prince and hurrying to kill the array of glowers trapped around me. Men and women I admire. Many more will die today if I don’t stop Cyrus.
Tension invaded my bones. I now recognized the battlefield of the coming battle—the same one we’d fought on before, where the Rock grew. Were we one step closer to war?
As our group approached an open glass foyer inside the palace, I wanted to run. But I didn’t. I was strong. Capable. I could face this challenge head-on or hide, but I couldn’t do both, and only one choice offered a path to victory.
Domino appeared out of thin air, walking beside me. “I’m working behind the scenes,” he vowed. “Know that. You will never be without my aid.”