CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE ISI
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
ISI
The flight back to Syllavar felt anticlimactic. Exhaustion hung on us like armor made of stone, and the wasteland still stretched below, clek after clek of corrupted earth taking lives and stealing hope.
Until it no longer did.
By dawn, green shoots had started to push up through cracked earth where evil had reigned too long.
I blinked, certain my tired eyes were tricking me, but the transformation continued as we flew.
A stream that had run black with rot now flowed clear, catching sunlight like scattered diamonds.
Wildflowers bloomed in clusters where nothing had grown for years.
The land remembered what it had been and was choosing to return.
Through our bond, I felt Trew’s wonder matching my own.
Pherin trilled from her perch on my shoulder, her small body vibrating with joy as she studied the renewal of magic in the world below.
Nim let out a musical cry that the other companions echoed.
Addie and Fenmark rode on his back, while my other friends rode their companions.
“Our world is healing,” I whispered.
Trew’s arm tightened around me from behind. “Because you and Addie healed it. With the veil sealed, natural magic can return.”
Vines climbed over dead trees, their leaves unfurling in fast motion like they were racing to reclaim lost time. The pattern reminded me of how Trew’s magic and mine had woven through each other at the breach, separate threads becoming something stronger and whole.
Finally, Syllavar Castle rose ahead, its towers catching the late afternoon sunlight. As we descended toward the aerie, I spotted people gathered in the courtyard, their faces turned skyward. Word had spread. They were waiting.
We landed our dragons in stalls. Trew swung down and caught me when I slid off Wairen’s back, holding me in his arms until I steadied my legs.
“Love you,” I whispered.
His eyes held that look I’d come to recognize, the one that said he’d cherish me forever.
He pulled me close, his voice dropping low enough that only I could hear.
“I watched you reweave reality itself, Minx. Nearly lost you doing it. I’m going to touch you every chance I get and be grateful for the privilege. ”
We left the aerie with our friends, taking the path through the woods and entering the castle through the back entrance.
When we reached the foyer, a crowd surged toward us. Friends and people I’d only seen in passing clapped me on the back. Kitchen staff pressed close with teary smiles. Even Grayson approached, his perpetual eye twitch almost gone as he nodded with approval.
“The veil is sealed,” he said. “You succeeded.”
“Permanently,” Trew said. “The Skathes are gone.”
A cheer went up, and I found myself passed from hug to hug, accepting congratulations I didn’t know how to receive. I’d spent years as the Lady of Mercy, dispensing death while wearing a mask. Being celebrated for helping bring life back to our realm felt foreign and right all at once.
My sister and friends took the congratulations with varying degrees of acceptance. My sister looked stronger already, the veil-sickness purged from her system. Fenmark kept one arm around her waist, as if he was afraid she might disappear.
I knew the feeling.
Through the celebration, Grayson waited with the hand-wringing patience of someone about to deliver bad news. When the enthusiasm finally waned and people went back to what they were doing before, he stepped forward again.
He gave us a bow. “About the war.” His face remained neutral, but his hands trembled.
“They’ve nearly reached our northern border.
They’re approximately five thousand strong, and they’re towing siege equipment.
They appear to have enough supplies for a prolonged campaign.
They’ve stopped their advance but show no signs of retreating.
The wasteland is visibly healing in front of them and…
” His scowl deepened. “King Cyril has joined them.”
I exchanged a glance with Trew. Even after he’d had time to think, my father had still marched to attack Syllavar. Retreat would mean agreeing he was wrong about magic, about everything.
Men like him never retreated.
“How long until they attack?” Trew asked.
“Unknown. They’re holding position as if waiting for something.”
I suspected they were waiting for me. I’d run from my father’s court, escaped a forced marriage, then returned to publicly defy everything he’d built his power on. He wouldn’t let that stand unanswered.
Pivoting, I started back toward the aerie. “We need to get there before his patience runs its course.” I met my sister’s eyes, seeing my own determination reflected there. “He won’t stop until I face him.”
But confronting him meant walking into the jaws of five thousand soldiers who’d been taught to see me as a traitor. Men and women who’d known my family forever, now turned against me by my father’s lies.
“There has to be another way,” Strain filled Addie’s voice. “We could retreat. Gather more allies. Come back when—”
“While he burns every village between here and Syllavar?” I said.
“While he executes anyone with magical abilities?” I shook my head.
“No. This has to end now, or it never will.” The weight of that truth settled in my bones.
My father would hunt us across realms if necessary.
He’d rather see the world destroyed than admit he’d been wrong.
Her chin lifted. “Until we face him, you mean. I assume he still believes I was murdered by Syllavar Court?”
“I think so.” Why hadn’t I told him?
Although, I wasn’t sure it would’ve made a difference. He wouldn’t have believed me, or if he had, he would still have been determined to eradicate all magic from our realm. My sister’s supposed death had been a convenient excuse to attack Syllavar.
Trew was already moving, issuing rapid orders to prepare fresh dragons. Warriors scrambled to obey while I checked my weapons. Ironic; I hadn’t had the chance to take them off.
Would that day ever come?
“Lakast and Kyreth,” Trew called out, rushing down the hallway behind me. “Isi and I will take Lakast. Addie, Fenmark, you’re on Kyreth.
Fenmark was pale but upright, moving under his own power now, Addie’s hand at his elbow. He’d refused help moving, though I’d seen the effort it cost him.
Within a short time, we’d mounted again, new supplies in a bag hanging from Lakast’s neck spike, Pherin clinging to my shoulder.
Derren helped Lexie mount. She grimaced and pressed her hand against her thigh wound.
Exhaustion still dragged at my bones, but adrenaline provided a bitter substitute for rest. Trew settled behind me on the dragon, one arm around my waist.
As we launched skyward, his lips brushed my ear. “Whatever happens, you won’t face him alone.”
I leaned back against his chest, drawing strength from his presence. “He hates that I found someone who stands with me instead of over me.”
“Your mate. Your king. The man who’ll kill anyone who tries to cage you.”
Lakast and Kyreth pushed hard. We flew through the end of the day and the night and arrived at the border by dawn. Below us, the transformation continued, green spreading like watercolor across canvas, corruption retreating as healing magic reasserted itself.
My father’s army must see it. Would fear of what was happening around them add more rage to their cause?
The mass of soldiers came into view as we crested the final ridge, their armor catching the rising sun. Siege towers and catapults waited in neat rows. Supply wagons stretched back toward Caldrith like a serpent’s tail.
Even from this far up, I could see my father on his warhorse, surrounded by his personal guard. I recognized the rigid way he held himself, the posture of a man who’d committed to a course and would see it through regardless of the cost.
Lakast and Kyreth descended in wide spirals, making our approach obvious and non-threatening. We weren’t here to start a battle yet.
We landed our dragons a solid distance from our front lines, near our opposing forces. We might be fewer in numbers, but we possessed magic.
Some of our companions dropped to the ground, shifting before they landed, standing in their beast forms, ready to defend our way of life.
I dismounted before Trew could help me, wanting the army to see me stand on my own feet. Pherin launched from my shoulder, circling overhead before landing back in place with a chirp.
Be big, she sent through our bond. Show teeth and claws.
“Not yet,” I said softly.
She huffed but settled, her small body tense with readiness.
I felt Trew’s presence like a shield at my back. He loved me enough to provide it whether I needed it or not.
As we’d discussed, Addie remained behind Fenmark, who stood tall despite his injuries.
I left our group and started walking toward my father’s army.
Trew matched my pace, his hand resting on his sword hilt. Gavelle and Pherin flew along with us, scouting forward before circling back to soar overhead.
My father’s soldiers watched our approach with expressions ranging from curiosity to hostility to something that could be hope. These were men and women of Caldrith, my people, raised to fear magic and trust in my father’s absolute authority.
I stopped twenty paces from their front line and raised my voice. “I’m Princess Amarissa of Caldrith, also known as the Lady of Mercy since my mother, Queen Marlane’s passing.”
The title tasted bitter, but I would wear it one last time.
“I’ve stood before you at ceremonies, watched you bow your heads, and seen you accept what you were told about magic and those who wield it.”
Murmurs rippled through the ranks. I recognized the faces of guards who’d patrolled the castle, merchants who’d sold goods in the square, and farmers who’d brought harvest offerings to the kitchen door. I’d grown up with them and they were friends, never my enemies.