Chapter Thirty-Seven
CASSIA
ANDROL AND SEVERAL other men I faintly recognize are waiting for me. The leadership tent is smaller than the one Raum used, and it’s empty except for a small, round table. The wooden surface is already covered in maps and paperwork, probably reports from our scouts.
There aren’t any chairs. That’s typically not something I’d care about, let alone notice, but I exhausted myself trying to teleport to Rexton’s childhood home. It doesn’t help that I’m still not fully healed from taking a spear through the chest.
A chair sounds pretty nice right about now.
At this rate, I fear I’ll be more of a hindrance than an asset in battle.
“Cassia.” Androl waves me inside. “Welcome.”
He’s not using my formal title, but I don’t correct him. Aziel has always actively discouraged people from using his title, instead choosing for them to call him ‘Aziel.’ My mother is the same, and she goes as far as to have people call her ‘Charlie’ instead of her given name, Charlotte.
I won’t be the one to break the tradition.
There are four men inside the leadership tent, Androl included. They’re looking at me with varying degrees of interest, probably wondering what I’m doing here. My hair is soaked from Rexton trying to drown me. I should’ve changed into dry clothes before coming here, but I didn’t think to do so.
Androl introduces the four soldiers, ensuring I know their names and titles. I appreciate it, and I do my best to imprint the names into memory. These men are all high-ranking officers, and they hold significant sway over the general public. Their approval is meaningful.
I’ve always struggled to win over Wrath’s soldiers, mainly because Aziel refused to let me anywhere near them. He’s kept me hidden from anything remotely resembling war, and this is my time to make a good impression. I don’t know when I’ll be given another opportunity.
“It’s nice to meet all of you,” I say. I gesture to the maps and paperwork scattered on the table between us. “What do we know?”
Rexton stands beside me, not saying a word. I was mildly nervous he’d try to lead this meeting, that he’d take it upon himself to speak for me as others have done in my past. He does nothing of the sort, though. I appreciate it.
When I lead Wrath, I’ll be in charge of the military, but I won’t be expected to know the minutia of operations. That’s what the generals are for. Aziel handpicked them well before I was born, and he trusts them to defend Wrath.
I trust them, too, but it’s still good to get firsthand experience. It will only make me a better queen.
“Prince Nolic is close,” Androl says. “He’s traveling with a unit of only a hundred or so soldiers, but we have reports that a larger army is following closely behind.”
“How large?”
“We estimate about fifty thousand.”
Fifty thousand soldiers? Rexton believes Mammon grew an army of about one hundred thousand, and marching half of them through Greed is absurd. Wrath is placed in an advantageous geographic position. We border Lust and the lava fields, two locations we don’t have to worry about heavily guarding.
Greed doesn’t have the same advantage. They’re centrally located, surrounded by their enemies. Pulling an army of fifty thousand men is no small feat, and it’ll leave them open to attack. They don’t have the privilege of leaving their borders unguarded, even temporarily.
I shake my head. “There’s no way.”
Androl grunts. “It’s been confirmed by several scouts. We’ve seen the army ourselves. It’s large, and Prince Nolic is marching them directly to our border.”
The man beside Androl runs a hand through his hair. “We assume Prince Nolic is trying to intimidate us.”
It’s incredibly transparent. The prince is traveling with only one hundred soldiers, enough to put us on edge but not enough to start an outright war.
I’ll agree to meet Prince Nolic at the border because that’s the diplomatic thing to do, and he will openly accuse us of killing his mother. It’s a fair accusation, one I won’t deny. Murdering Mammon was an act of war, and Prince Nolic will lay out some bullshit terms for forgiveness.
He’ll most definitely want Rexton, which is out of the question. He’ll also want money, potentially some valuable land, and maybe even a marriage agreement.
He will get none of those things. I don’t care much for forgiveness. This all began with Mammon murdering my baby brother.
I’m willing to bet Prince Nolic hopes the fifty thousand men traveling toward our borders will intimidate us into agreeing to his terms. It won’t.
“Do you think he’s willing to fight?” I ask.
I should already know the answer to this. I volunteered to join Raum’s war camp, but I didn’t anticipate being excluded from leadership meetings. I’ve been given the same amount of information as the foot soldiers, which is next to nothing.
I’m out of the loop, and I fight not to let my embarrassment show.
“Yes,” Androl is quick to say. “Mammon was reserved, but Prince Nolic has never shied away from violence. He’s more than willing to fight.”
He won’t have the opportunity if I have any say in it.
There are rules against harming a demon of royal blood during diplomatic visits, but Prince Nolic is fair game the moment he crosses into Wrath.
He’s not here on a friendly visit, and if he thinks traveling with only a hundred men will grant him lenience, he’s sorely mistaken.
I’m willing to speak with him, but I have no qualms about killing him should things not go the way I want. Mammon had several children, and perhaps we’ll have better luck with the next one.
I eye the map on the table, noting the marked locations. We’re tracking Prince Nolic’s movements and the larger army following behind. They’re close, maybe only a half-day behind Prince Nolic.
I still can’t believe he’s bringing fifty thousand soldiers to Wrath’s borders. First Unit has only a thousand, and Aziel and General Raum are hoping not to call in the other units. We’re prepared for war—always are—but it’s never the ideal solution.
Assuming Mammon has trained her soldiers, First Unit won’t be able to hold back fifty thousand. The small group Prince Nolic is traveling with will be easy to pick apart, but I’ll have to send word to Raum should conversations with Prince Nolic go poorly.
I pinch my bottom lip, thinking. “I don’t trust Prince Nolic.”
The men around the table make quiet noises of agreement.
The next several hours are spent determining where the First Unit troops will be stationed when Prince Nolic reaches Wrath’s borders. Making these decisions is terrifying, but only a few of my ideas receive pushback. I try to be open to the critique, but it’s hard.
I prefer being right, but I’m willing to admit I’m not the expert.
By the time we have a plan laid out and the officers are leaving to brief their squads, it’s well into the evening. The bugs are out, filling the forest with quiet chirping. About two-thirds of First Unit is sleeping. The other third is keeping watch.
I’m exhausted. These past few days have been more than I ever imagined. I always thought war would be fun, that it would be a never-ending adrenaline rush. It’s turning out to be long and tiring.
“I’m on shift tonight,” Androl says. “We’ll switch in five hours.”
I nod, and he steps out of the leadership tent, leaving Rexton and me alone.
Rexton shoots me a smile. “You did well.”
I shrug, my cheeks warming. Rexton places a hand on the small of my back. It’s a subtle gesture, but it’s meaningful. I could brush him away, making it clear that this thing between us is to remain private. I could reject his touch, and I know he won’t attempt again.
He’s asking permission.
I grant it, and I allow him to keep his hand on my back as we walk out of the privacy of the leadership tent.
He clears his throat. “We should eat, and you need to sleep. Prince Nolic is close, and you’ve drained yourself these past few days.” I’m not going to argue about that. “I’ll bring dinner to our tent.”
We break apart, and I hold my chin high as I return to our tent. Only once I’m safely inside do I let myself slouch and my eyes droop shut. Our tub has been drained, but only one cot remains. Androl must have forgotten to have a second one brought in.
That’s a problem for future Cassia. This has been a long, exhausting day, and I don’t wish to deal with it right now.
I’m half-asleep by the time Rexton returns to our tent, and I shove him away when he nudges my shoulder.
“Eat,” he orders. “Then you can go back to sleep.”
I can tell the food isn’t delicious. It smells bland, and I’m not waking up for bland food.
Rexton sighs. “Cassia. Get up.”
“Suck my taint.” I roll over, giving him my back. “I’m sleeping.”
My uncouth statement is met with silence, which I’m taking to mean I’ve won. People get uncomfortable when you tell them to suck your taint, and I’m not above using that to my advantage.
Rexton is defective, though. I should know that by now. He hooks his fingers into the back of my pants, and I release a panicked screech and arch away as he yanks my pants halfway down my ass.
I gasp, grabbing and yanking my pants back up. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Eat your food, or I’m going to follow through.”
What the fuck kind of threat is that? There’s no way he’s being serious. No way in hell. I grind my teeth, debating how much I want to risk it, before sitting up and snatching the plate from Rexton’s hands.
He’s smirking, clearly pleased with himself. I ignore it. He doesn’t deserve to be happy.
“If we’re to be in a relationship,” I say, “you should know I don’t appreciate being woken up.”
“You don’t appreciate much of anything. Eat.”
I shovel the food into my mouth, trying and failing to eat so quickly that my taste buds don’t register the flavor.
It’s not awful, but I have high standards.
I was raised in a household with highly skilled chefs, an unlimited food budget, and adventurous parents.
Every night was a feast, and it’s made me particular.
I won’t apologize for it.
Rexton filled my plate to the brim, and despite my annoyance with being woken, I find myself eating almost all of it. I didn’t realize how hungry I was, and I lie back with a contented sigh once finished.
I needed that.
And now I need sleep.
The quiet, repetitive sound of Rexton pattering around the tent lulls me to sleep, and I’m barely conscious when he eventually slips into the cot beside me.
We may be sharing a mattress, but I’m not sharing my blanket.
When Rexton reaches for it, I pointedly rip it out of his hands.
It’s not large enough for two people, and I’ve claimed it. I’m not sharing.
Rexton huffs, releasing the corner he grabbed. After a minute, I loosen my grip.
The second my fists soften, the blanket is promptly ripped from my hands. I grind my teeth as Rexton forces me to share. I’m beginning to regret ever putting my teeth on his neck.
“Goodnight, Cassia,” Rexton says.
I hum, hesitating, before wiggling until my back is pressed against his side.
It’s the closest I’m willing to get to asking for comfort, but Rexton provides it.
He doesn’t overdo it, either, which I appreciate.
He turns to the side and throws an arm over my waist, but he doesn’t attempt to suffocate me with his body.
He’s smart.
I’m only asleep for what feels like minutes.
Rexton wakes me up. He jolts upright, his upper body angled over mine as somebody bursts inside our tent.
It’s Androl. He’s out of breath, and he shoves his wet hair out of his face as his gaze lands on Rexton and me. “Prince Nolic and his men have reached the pass. They’re only a few miles away from officially crossing into Wrath’s borders.”
I push past Rexton, hurrying to clamor out of bed.
“Already?” I ask. I thought we’d have more notice—that our scouts would spot them when they were still hours away. “How did they get so close without being seen?”
Androl shrugs, already on his way out of his tent. “The fuck if I know.”
He’s gone a second later. I turn toward Rexton, panic rendering me momentarily immobile. I’m not sure I’m ready for this. In fact, I’m one-thousand percent confident I’m not. I’m inexperienced and scared.
“How’s your chest?” Rexton asks. He’s already out of bed and shoving his feet into his boots.
“It’s fine.” It hurts, but it’s manageable. I didn’t get a full night’s rest, but the few hours have been helpful.
“Are you okay to fight?”
Rexton looks up, his voice dying out as he takes notice of my expression. My fear must be showing, and I swallow past the lump in my throat as he rises and closes the distance between us.
My heart pounds as he cups my cheeks, holding my face tightly between his warm palms.
“You know what to do,” he says. “You’ve prepared for this.”
I shake my head. “I have not. I’m going to fuck up.”
“You have, and you’re not. Androl and I will be with you every step of the way.” Rexton releases me and steps back. “I won’t let you embarrass yourself, Cassia. I promise.”
I’m not sure if I believe him, but I don’t have much of a choice. Chaos is erupting outside, and people are waiting on me. Ready or not, I have a duty to fulfill.