Chapter Thirty-Two
Bellamy
D emarcus was in a wonderful mood today—which was unfortunate for me, as I was inclined to be the opposite. For the love of Stella, why was everyone not angrier? Could they not see how close we were to war—to the end?
“I believe that you are doing a wonderful job, Your Highness.” Ugh, why did he have to be so nice? Why could he not simply be a prick like every other general to exist? Like me.
The forty-three-year-old mortal was determined to integrate his soldiers smoothly, not batting an eye when we started using magic in training sessions or teaching Behman soldiers how to use the fae’s powers against them. In fact, as we walked to the war room, the mortal general was eagerly informing me of all that I had done right since Asher and Shah sent them here.
Was it wrong of me to wish everyone would be miserable?
With an audible sigh, I recognized that I was, in fact, wrong.
“Thank you, Demarcus. You are very kind, and I think you are also doing a good job. The war council will be quite impressed by the way your soldiers are training.” Not a lie. They were far more resilient than anyone had given them credit for. Lian was, as per usual, not taking it easy on them during her private lessons. But it was the work they did when fighting beside demons that truly showed their abilities. Demarcus himself was an outstanding fighter and one of the quickest to learn how to fight against magic.
The double doors to the war room loomed ahead, my memory of the last meeting we had bringing a smile to my lips. Poor, stupid Finnick. Demarcus had begun discussing some sort of new sparring regimen, but all I could think was that Asher was traveling through Gandry, attempting to gain allies without me. I wished desperately that I could drop everything here and be with her. That I could spend every second with her before our time ran out.
With an irritated shove, I threw open the doors, watching as my captains and the four remaining war council members flinched at the sound. Even Demarcus, who was so prone to gleefully chatting, stuttered to a stop. If he had not already been sporting a head of prematurely gray hair, then I imagined he would have eventually went gray simply because of my tendency to scare him. Despite his hair, the general had flawless skin, the dark shade looking like midnight skies against his red uniform.
My own uniform was all black, small details of blue and silver stitched in swirling patterns up the arms. The others all wore uniforms as well, each sporting a beautiful silver color. Except for Damon, who instead wore the sky blue of the lieutenant general, and King Adbeel, who matched me in black.
“Ah, our fearless general, so glad you could make it.” Elrial’s words were laced with distaste, probably because I murdered his fellow war council member in front of him. Since I knew he was right to hate me, I simply smirked at him, letting him see how little I truly cared about his thoughts. This was war, but Asher was life. Without her, we would all die.
Adbeel looked less than happy with Elrial’s remarks, but I just shrugged when our eyes met. I was uninterested in arguing or attempting to prove myself to someone who would never see me as more than a pointy-eared enemy.
Demarcus and I made our way to the table that held the model of Alemthian, pulling out two of the tall wooden chairs. When we both were seated and comfortable, I began.
“We need to cut straight to the chase. It is time to take an offensive approach with the fae. As of right now, we know that their greatest asset is the demon working with them.” At that, I allowed my eyes to briefly flick towards Adbeel, watching as he flinched. It was hard not to feel guilty for being the one to break him the news. “Noe?”
“I have not seen any sign of the traitor. In fact, the royals seem to be going about their days as usual. They have yet to leave the island at all. With their added security measures, I was unable to infiltrate the palace.” Noe’s normally sultry voice took on a commanding tone, her chin high. She had pulled her golden brown hair up, her uniform the same silver as any other soldier. Still, her kohl lined eyes and red lips gave her an evocative beauty, like the sirens of Haven.
The sirens that were nearly wiped out after the battle.
But unlike them, Noe did not call to her victims with a song. Instead, she capitalized on her beauty, letting those around her underestimate what she could do then laughing as she brutally slaughtered them. But now, as she showed that startling amount of magic, allowing shadows to leak from her skin like wisps of storm clouds, Noe did the opposite. It horrified me, knowing that whatever she was about to say, she required respect and perhaps even fear to do so.
“I visited each isle, noting the numbers at every base, and it is clear they are amassing their army. However, it was Isle Shifter that left me confused. They have double the number of soldiers than we originally thought. None looked particularly young, but I have heard rumors that they lowered the conscription age.”
There it was, the thing that would spark more debate than we could afford at the moment. Letting myself sink further into my chair, I waited for the discourse to begin. It seemed Demarcus would be the first to speak.
“Conscription? You mean the fae force people—sorry, beings—to enlist in their forces? That is despicable! How young?” The disgust in the mortal general’s tone was evident, as were the mixed opinions on the faces of the others around the table.
“It seems they are choosing to pull fae as young as nineteen, which is the average age that the younglings master their powers and become full-grown fae.”
Demarcus seemed to let loose a breath of relief, but no one else did. No, we all understood that for what it was. When you lived to be thousands of years old, nineteen seemed so very young. But that was nearly a quarter of a mortal life. They did not know that at nineteen, a demon would not have even gone through The Almavet yet—the year-long experience of one’s powers doubling and their aging beginning to slow. It was the transition out of youth, and that happened around age twenty-five—six years older than those fae who would be forced to fight.
Who we would be forced to kill.
Adbeel seemed to simmer with rage, the fury on his face turning his brown skin a shade of violent red. Tensing, I waited for the stupidity that would surely come out of someone’s mouth any second.
“Good riddance. They will be easier to kill at such a young age.” Ah, there it was. Wonderfully done Nrista, wonderfully done.
Her eyes darted towards Lian quickly, a look of pure disgust pinching her face. It was something Lian dealt with more often than she should from the older demons in the military, but she did nothing more than wink at the war council member.
The older female either did not care about the anger emanating from both her king and her prince, or she was unaware of it. Either way, we were now both shaking, our eyes pinned on her.
“How dare you speak of the death of those so young as if it were nothing. They are innocent in this, Nrista. Would you feel the same way if it were your daughters being forced? Even at their age, it would still be horrible to see them donning armor and wielding swords against their will, would it not?” She shot me a glare as my furious words registered, her stiff posture telling me that she understood them for the threat they were.
I wondered if she was wishing it was I on that battlefield, against her rather than beside her. Did she wish she could slaughter me, too? Many did, and I could not—would not—blame them. I was the embodiment of all they feared and hated. Prejudice had a knack for that, turning beings against one another. But those younglings, they had done nothing but be born on the opposite side. Their deaths were not fair or right.
“Enough. We are not here to fight. The purpose of this meeting is to inform you all that I have decided to take the advice of General Ayad. We are here to begin planning an offensive approach. If Tristana is right, and I cannot recall a time she was not”—at his words of recognition, Noe nodded her head in acknowledgement—“then we need to be prepared for a much larger military than we thought.” At the king’s declaration, everyone seemed to release a collective breath, each face going stony as we began.
Though the meeting started with a sense of unease, we quickly began concocting a plan to attack The Capital. The hardest part of this would be not harming the fae in Academy. Working through that was quickly grating on my nerves, as well as Lian’s based on the look she sported. Neither of us could stand the way so many demons viewed fae life, like they were pawns to be sacrificed. Or worse, like they were lambs for slaughter.
“I agree that the fae king and queen need to be eliminated, as well as the traitor, but at the cost of our morals? Our souls? That is not worth it. We cannot be like them, murdering the young and destroying innocents.” Adbeel looked impressed by my words, his small smirk and slight nod making me feel oddly proud.
Perhaps he was too. After nearly two centuries of desperately wanting revenge and death, I was finally learning.
“I agree. Noe, can you do more reconnaissance on The Capital? Maybe we can plan for a time when they will all be securely in their quarters. Or, if we can speak to them, there is a chance we can evacuate the younglings before we attack.” Noe nodded, bowing when her king finished speaking. But something inside of me recoiled at the idea of her going. I needed her, now more than ever. Without her, how would I convince Asher to come home before she was finished speaking to all of the Mortal kings and queens?
“Noe needs to stay. She has an important mission. Luca can go, though. He was in and out of Betovere for the last two years. He likely knows it better than any of us.” My words were firm, unwavering in their commanding tone. Marjorie huffed in annoyance, the other three council members shaking their heads with disapproval, but I did not care. Especially when Adbeel nodded, siding with me as he almost always did.
“Then let us—” Lian’s words were cut off by the entrance of Henry, who burst through the door with a look of poorly masked nerves. His all-black ensemble hid the deep red shade of blood, but he reeked of it.
“I need to go,” I said, not bothering to look at those around the table before I got up and made my way to the door. More than one of them muttered insults under their breath, but I ignored them in favor of offering one last comment. “Prioritize plans for attacking The Capital and ending the traitor, but if we fail, we must consider laying siege on Isle Shifter.”
“Bell,” Adbeel said, his voice deepening as if he were prepared to chastise me. I turned slightly, looking at his eyes that held far too much knowledge within them. “Do find time later to speak with me. I think we need to discuss the absence of a certain council member.”
Shit.
With that, I left, following an uncomfortably silent Henry. His facial hair had grown, the stubble becoming an actual beard. Subconsciously, I pondered how he felt about me having my own face shaven and my hair trimmed. It was not that I wanted anyone other than Winona to cut it. Rather, I felt like I had no choice but to maintain appearances. Did he understand that? Did he hate me?
Then, of course, I remembered the look on his face, and my panic took a different turn.
Instead of speaking, he grabbed my hand and portaled us, the gray stone turning to a world of white. We were in the infirmary. “Where is she? What happened? Is that her blood?”
Without thinking, I grabbed onto the front of his tunic, nearly lifting him from the ground despite him being two inches taller. When he did not laugh or deny anything, I shoved him to the side and ran to the end of the medical area, where a set of curtains had been drawn around the last bed. Throwing them open with more force than was necessary, I tried and failed to find those stormy eyes.
White irises looked up at me, the worry so stark and raw that I nearly collapsed under the weight of all he did not say. My hands met the mattress, and I quickly shut my eyes. I could not let the panic win. No one said she was hurt. Our future was written. If I followed that path, it would be okay. She would be okay.
“Farai’s eardrums burst from the wavelengths of the screaming crowd at the Temple of the Gods. It caused a pulmonary embolism.” Ranbir’s calm voice sounded from behind me, not so much as fazed by the fact that the Shifter almost died. Or it sounded like he almost did. I was not quite sure what he was talking about.
“Asher?” I asked as I faced Henry, not sparing another glance at Farai. Henry’s face looked like an odd mixture of nerves and relief, as if he was unsure which to feel. I narrowed my eyes, despite knowing that there was likely nothing I could do to make my best friend— my brother in a way—fear me. When he cleared his throat, I relaxed slightly.
“She stayed behind with Trint to speak to the people of Gandry. She was in pain but overall okay enough to continue.” My shoulders slouched, relief fizzling out the terror like water thrown on a fire. Still, I would need to go to her as soon as possible, just to make sure she was okay. Asher could take care of herself, but that did not mean I wanted her to have to. She had been alone in that for far too long. “You know, I had thought you were insinuating Asher was not fae when you accidentally let it slip that she possessed magic.”
Memories of Pino repeatedly reiterating the importance of these truths being revealed in a particular order flashed through my mind. This conversation was too risky, even admitting to Henry what I had those months ago was pushing the boundaries. I went to shake my head, to tell him to drop it, but he continued on.
“The noise of the crowd hurt her. I saw the pain in her eyes and watched as she was forced to cover her ears. It was nearly as bad as Farai. Which makes me wonder if she is more like you than I thought before. Her magic, was it infused? Is she like the navalom? I watched her steal the memories from Lara, the way she seemed to rip them out with ferocious accuracy.” Henry’s gaze was distant, as if he were living within his head as he spoke his thoughts aloud.
Asher and Adbeel first, then I can tell him. Then I can tell all of them. These secrets were not forever. I just had to remember that.
“I think it is different.” My casual tone was enough to bring his eyes back into focus, shooting me a glare that was likely twin to my own from moments ago.
“I think you know more than you are leading us to believe. In fact, I think those secrets of yours span much farther than just where Ash’s magic came from. So, what was it that Pino said would happen if you told us the truth?” Henry questioned, crossing his arms and tilting his head. Behind me, Farai sat up in his bed, clearly eager to listen in. As heinous as I was for it, I wished the bastard still could not hear.
“There are only so many futures in which Eoforhild survives.” Ranbir snorted from beside Farai, quickly covering it up with a cough. The sound startled me. He had shown so little vibrance since losing Winona, and I was baffled to hear it come out now when we were talking about something so serious. It made me smirk despite how horribly the conversation was going.
“I just do not see why Pino told you anything at all when he knew it would be dangerous. Why not just say you needed to get Asher? You would have been more than willing to steal her away. There was a time when you were set on convincing Adbeel to allow us to eliminate her.”
I flinched at Henry’s casual tone when talking about the fact I had once wanted Ash dead. I hated myself for it. What if I had succeeded? Suddenly, I felt sick. I needed to go get her, immediately.
“I think it was important for us to love one another. I can feel it in my soul, a tug towards her. I was meant for her, and she was meant for me.” Henry scoffed, rolling his eyes. I forced a smile, knowing I could never explain it. “Either way, Pino is…gone. I cannot ask him to elaborate. I can only go on and hope I am doing what is best.”
“I miss him too,” Henry lamented.
Ranbir abruptly stood, walking out without a word. How did you help someone who had lost everything?
Asher would feel that way one day, likely sooner rather than later. Maybe Henry was right. It probably would have been better if Pino had not told me so much. Maybe Asher would have been better off not loving me at all.
“Yeah, I miss the sound of his creepy voice,” I concurred. Henry laughed softly, as if he too could hear the horrifying way Pino spoke when prophesying.
“I do not think you are supposed to call the dead creepy.” Farai’s voice from behind us was sobering, forcing me to straighten.
“I have to get Asher.” I tried to walk away, needing to secure a map in order to make it to the temple, but Henry’s arms reached out, stopping me.
“I think she will succeed. She always seems to. Now, you need to succeed too. Stay here, go back to that meeting, and figure out a way to kill that traitor. I will get Asher. Just trust me.” The way he said it, the words almost came out as begging. As if he was determined to prove to me that he was on my side. I wished I could say that I knew he was, that I was proud to call him my friend. That I knew he would take care of Asher when I was gone.
But there was no time.
“I do,” I whispered. Then I portaled, praying to Stella that I had a good enough memory to get me to the right place.
When I arrived outside of the temple, I nearly fell to my knees in relief. Gods, I was not sure I would make it. Walking forward, I heard the distant sound of the crowd, so loud that they could be heard even from here. This was going to hurt.
Portaling once more, I let the shadows of the moon suck me in, my feet suddenly on dirt instead of stone. Quickly, I shoved out a bubble of air, letting it create a barrier around me. I was on the edge of a sort of coliseum. Ahead, Trint, who stood alone in the center, looked around in horror.
My eyes searched for Asher, going so far as to check the front of the crowd. The panic seeped back in when I was unable to spot her. Henry should not have left her. Where was she? What happened here?
Before I consciously decided to do so, my feet were carrying me to Trint, my appearance so abrupt that I scared him. He jumped back, his hand flying to his heart. With a wave of my hand, the pocket of air grew, wrapping around him as well. The king blanched, looking around in confusion. He might not be able to see the way the air bent and thickened, but he could feel the pressure change and hear the now-muffled crowd.
“Who are you?” As soon as he asked the question, he seemed to register the murder in my eyes. If he had hurt Asher, he would learn who I was through experience. I was not above murdering a king in front of his people.
“Where is the princess? Where is Asher?” I growled out the words, barely stopping myself from yelling.
He shifted on his feet, eyes wide. “She disappeared after she convinced my people to fight for her cause. It was like nothing I have ever seen before. There was a burst of sparkling clouds around her, like a shimmering smoke. I could tell it was not her doing it because she screamed out in what sounded an awful lot like terror.”
“How long?” My question was lower, almost a whisper. I knew what the answer would be.
“A minute or two. Just before you arrived.” Yes, just before I arrived. Because I had wasted time talking, acting as if I had so much of it left. I was not there for her when she needed me, and now Asher was gone.
My hand gripped my chest, the painful race of my heart making my head swim. I tried to portal, feeling the discomfort of it when I normally did not. Water suddenly surrounded me, the dark abyss pulling me downwards. I let out a panicked shout at the way the icy depths seemed to consume me, stealing my vision and my hearing. Again I portaled, this time landing in a heap on the model of Alemthian in the war room.
Screams rang out, everyone present jumping back from my soaked body. Adbeel’s voice came from my side, etched with worry and confusion. Shivers wracked my body, but all I could do was listen to those screams. The broken sound of them so odd.
When a hand clamped over my mouth, I realized that it was me shrieking in agony. I silenced myself, but my mind raced with thoughts of all the horrors Asher could be facing.
Adbeel grabbed me by my shoulders, using his brute strength to force me into a sitting position as he looked me over. I stared at him—through him—wondering if my death was contingent on Asher surviving. Would I live if she did not?
No world where she did not breathe was worth living in anyways.
“What happened, Bell?” Adbeel’s question came out as a desperate shout while he shook me.
“Asher,” I whispered, my voice meek and shattered. “Asher is gone.”