Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ophelia
“Our numbers are officially up to a thousand new trainees,” Cypherion reported, standing before the council in his brown leathers, scythe resting against the dark wood table.
“That’s quick growth.” Danya nodded, impressed, her black hair swaying around her chin.
She looked up from the map she was positioning troops on.
Each clan was marked by a different symbol with the Mystique sigil adorning the top of the map, optimistic and proud.
“It’s only been a month since the program began? ”
“Yes.” Cyph’s hands were tight at his sides. “And more are traveling to Damenal every day.” Since he’d begun training Mystiques to prepare for the Undertaking—and eventually the looming war—we’d seen tremendous improvements in the candidates. And Cyph—he was a natural-born leader.
“There’s also smaller groups gathering in the cities,” Larcen added. “I’ve been inquiring after the status of warriors as the communication lines strengthen.”
I released a breath of relief. Everything was falling into place.
In the days since Malakai and I broke up, I’d thrown myself into meetings, research, and training.
Anything to keep my body and mind busy enough that sleep was unavoidable when my head hit the pillow at night—Jezebel’s pillow, actually.
I’d been sleeping in her room for a week now, not quite ready to be alone.
A hollow sadness ached through my heart each time I was, a pulse of a past life, but I’d need to move into my new suite soon.
Large apartments similar to my old one, but without the stains of the past.
Daily war councils didn’t allow me a chance to escape Malakai, but he remained stoic in the back of the room. I didn’t make eye contact with him, focusing on holding myself together instead.
We may not have had a large army, but we had an expanding force. We had growing trade once again and commerce was flourishing. The council had adopted apprentices as I’d requested. All except Danya, who continued to reassure me she had a plan.
“How many of your warriors have completed the Undertaking?” I asked Cyph.
The groups he trained were all seventeen or older, many having been in our predicament of missing their eighteenth birthday.
Everyone younger than that was sent to lower training groups, and those who had ascended were in Danya’s care.
“Only three hundred.”
“Have we lost any to it?” I held my breath—the room held its breath.
“Two,” Cyph mumbled. His shoulders curved inward, hands bracing themselves on the table.
“That’s an impressively low rate, Cypherion,” my father said, gripping Cyph’s shoulder. “You should be proud of them all.”
Though any loss of Mystique blood was a shame, my father was right. Out of hundreds of warriors, only two had not survived the Undertaking. It was a risky endeavor, and everyone in this room knew that. Most of us had lived it, save for Malakai, Barrett, Dax, and the delegates.
“I’m going to lower it,” Cyph swore.
“It’s not your fault.” I stared at him until he looked back.
His lips forced a smile, but worry dulled his blue eyes. “I know.” The words sounded hollow, and he sank into a chair.
I cleared my throat. “Now on to the Engrossians. There’s still no indication of what Kakias has planned. Where her end goal is.”
“Damenal is what makes sense.” Danya’s lips twisted. I feared that was precisely why Kakias chose otherwise.
“If she’s sweeping toward the Mystique Territories, she could ravage the trade routes we’re rebuilding,” Larcen hypothesized, running a hand over his auburn scruff.
“Or she could be aiming to cut off communications between us and other clans?” Jezebel pointed to the map unrolled across the table.
“If she gets to the western border of the mountains and cuts both north and around the southern base, she’ll sever the Mystiques from all other clans, save for the Seawatchers, who can’t offer much aid, anyway. ”
“She knows many Mystiques have returned to Damenal, though,” Alvaron claimed.
“Even better,” Cypherion said. “She’d be dividing us. Not only would we be unable to amass one army, but Damenal would be without a number of key resources. It’s not a bad plan.”
“No, it’s not. But she’d be positioning her armies at the base of the mountains, then.” Danya scanned the map with the precision of a warrior who’d planned countless battles. “It would be easy for us to surround them.”
“Assuming we can gather our forces quickly enough,” Tolek said. He was right—Kakias was acting swiftly because she knew we were still recovering the army that had fallen to her two years ago.
“It still doesn’t explain why,” Cyph mumbled.
Barrett was right; understanding your enemy was as transformative as knowing their strategies.
I exchanged a glance with the Engrossian heir and shook my head. We couldn’t explain that his mother was after me without me explaining my Angelblood theory, and that would lead to Damien’s prophecy and the Angelcurse—and…only I could know.
“What is she after?” Tol mused. “Why ignite a war again?”
The words clawed their way up my throat, nearly bursting from my lips. Spirits, I was close to my breaking point beneath these secrets. Me. She’s after me.
“Allies,” I blurted instead. “It doesn’t matter where she is. We’ll need allies if she cuts off our troops.” Shame squirmed within me, but I avoided Barrett’s questioning eyes. “The chancellors have yet to respond to my letters.”
“It’s been over a week since you wrote,” Jezebel interjected, lips curling in a threat to storm the territories herself and demand answers.
“I know, but it’s a delicate decision, declaring war or not.” Perhaps I should have visited each clan rather than written to them. But that would have taken weeks—months, probably, considering how many territories I would have to travel to. That was time we didn’t have.
Absently, I ran my fingers over the pin at my chest. The one my grandmother had given me for my twentieth birthday. To guide me, she had said. I had taken to wearing it daily, resting on that reassurance.
“Can the delegates tell us anything?” Vale, Erista, and Esmond sat at one end of the table. “Do you have any idea what your chancellors may be thinking?”
“I haven’t spoken to Titus,” Vale offered of the Starsearcher chancellor. “But I’ll write to him today.”
“Thank you.” I nodded. “And may I ask how your own readings are?”
Vale straightened, her expression giving nothing away. “They’re decent. Titus had the best tutors in our clan on staff.”
“Would you be open to conducting one around the coming war? Perhaps seeking Kakias’s next steps from the stars?” I’d been mulling over the idea for some time. Vale hid secrets—they were clear in her eyes, riddled by the past. Her connection to the celestial movements was a tool we needed.
“That could be incredibly helpful in knowing where to station our forces,” Danya interjected.
“And general strategy overall.” Cypherion’s mind ticked down his list of preparations.
“Particularly with allies.” Jezebel and Erista exchanged a glance.
Barrett toyed with his sigil ring. “If anyone can understand my mother, it will be the stars.”
Vale looked from one to the next, imposition clear on her face. “I can try. I can’t promise results.”
“Thank you.” The satisfied snapping of a trap sounded in my head.
“The Apex Moon has passed. I expect you’ll hear from Meridat soon.” Erista’s confidence was reassuring. A bit of the tension in my chest eased.
“And Brigiet?” I faced the Bodymelder apprentice.
Esmond ran a hand over his hair. “To tell you the truth, Ophelia.” He paused. “I don’t know what to expect from her. Brigiet is a very…private person.”
An understatement.
“Please write to her, as well, and see if there is any movement on her decision.”
“Of course,” he promised. I didn’t know what way Esmond would sway the Bodymelder chancellor. Though he appeared to trust us, we couldn’t be sure how deep that loyalty ran.
“If we might be moving without the minor clans”—Danya shifted their symbols off the map—“we’ll need to fight smart. Brute force and size will go to Kakias.”
“We aren’t sure what her plans are, though,” I added.
“We can assume she’ll attack Damenal.” The Master of Weapons spoke with years of experience.
But I looked to the Engrossian heir. “Can we?”
Barrett leaned forward, twirling one of his black curls around a finger and studying the map of Gallantia spread over the table. “No.” He straightened. “Never assume my mother will do what is obvious.”
“In the last war—”
“In the last war her motives were kept secret.” Barrett drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair. “She didn’t much care how the war was run, so long as she won. She allowed her general control of the armies.”
“She won’t this time?” my father asked.
“He died,” Barrett deadpanned. “Your daughter killed him.”
“Victious,” I breathed, swallowed by the memory of the rogue Engrossians attacking us on the journey to the Undertaking. Of Tolek’s blood staining my cheeks, like sliding a knife between my ribs.
As if sensing my discomfort, Tol stepped to my shoulder. Closing his notebook and setting it on the table, he brushed his arm against mine—a simple assurance that he was here.
“Who will lead her armies now?” Tol asked.
Barrett shook his head, but it was Dax who answered. “She never appointed anyone.” His pale cheeks flushed. “I was a lieutenant below Victious. After he died, Kakias…she announced wanting to lead herself.”
“Why?” I asked, ignoring how high-ranking the prince’s consort had revealed himself to be. Danya moved pins around the map, her pen scraping satisfyingly through Victious.
Barrett shrugged. “Do not be fooled that she’ll actually fight. She likely doesn’t want to share her strategy with anyone else.” Share what she’s actually after, his pointed stare said. “It would be unwise to underestimate her.”