Chapter 30
In the space of ten minutes, I received an ever-scaling shit show of news.
Calanthe had knocked her guard unconscious and escaped some time in the early hours of morning.
We’d placed two elite teams in the forest with the intention of crushing Cleodora’s army against the walls, and they found one, killing every last warrior.
Cleodora herself had been spotted. So had Jyrard. Fucking Jyrard.
We stood on the solid stone balcony of the guard-tower on the western side of the wall. Kier and I, Rook, Xiona, three of the council, the watchman, and Cherish, whose hawks were flying above the clouds, scouting the army at our door.
The ranks flowed from end to end of the sloped field, right to the forest’s edge, both goblin warriors and smaller human soldiers decked out in mud-brown leather and steely armour.
I’d expected them to be separate—Greenheart, Bluescale, and the humans Cleodora compelled.
I’d pictured them as three distinct units, but they stood among each other under blue flags and green banners. No human pennants, I saw. Typical.
Every few metres, huge lapis spears thrust towards the grey sky. The hulking shapes of emerald cannons could be spotted resting on brawny shoulders, too. I did not have fond memories of those things.
“The walls will hold,” one of the council guys insisted. I’d forgotten his name—it was months since I met him, in my defence—but he had a beard that reached his belt and small, beady eyes in a sky-blue face, so let’s call him Belt Beard. “I can’t see any weapons that would breach them.”
“They got through Skayan’s walls,” Rook reminded him, brushing his fingers over the vial at his hip.
His brown skin was devoid of colour and life this morning.
Probably had something to do with the sheer thousands of enemies on the other side of a stone wall that had always seemed rather sturdy but now seemed worryingly flimsy.
Stone and magic were all that stood between that army and our deaths.
And somewhere in the middle were the new Bluescale king and the Greenheart queen.
I couldn’t wait for Jyrard to learn their alliance was bullshit, possibly at the end of Cleodora’s sword, maybe buried under a pile of magic rats.
She’d betray him. He was stupid if he thought otherwise.
“There are others in the trees,” Cherish said in a low voice, her gaze fixed somewhere faraway.
I held onto her forearm so she couldn’t accidentally topple over the edge of the balcony.
One time while scouting she walked into a tree, so I wouldn't take any risks.
Plus, Hames had been missing again this morning and she needed my moral support.
“At least fifty, maybe a hundred. I can feel power coming off them.”
“The second wave,” Xiona muttered. “They’ll bring them out when we’re weakened.”
“Or they’re the ones who brought the walls down,” I suggested, and really wished I'd kept my mouth shut. “If they all have magic, that power combined could threaten our shields.”
Xiona swore with impressive colour. “Cherish, can you take them out with your hawks?”
Cherish shook her head, her hair bound into tight braids today, baring every beautiful angle of her face. “If there were only five maybe, but not that many.”
“Then we sneak out there, and attack before they see us coming,” I suggested, eyeing my husband. “How many people do you think that dragons of yours might carry?”
His eyes brightened. “Ten, possibly fifteen.”
“Gather the most powerful people we have.”
“I’m not leaving the walls,” Belt Beard spluttered, his face turning red. “I’m too old for battle.”
“With any luck, we’ll stop this before the walls fall,” I said, giving him a dubious look. “Otherwise, you’d better brush up on your fighting skills, old man.”
“Old man!” he spluttered, outraged.
“You just called yourself old,” I pointed out, shaking my head.
There were certain people on the council of Lazankh who were determined to be offended by everything I did.
Probably because of my blunt teeth, rounded ears, and general lack of claws.
Too bad he was stuck with a human princess, because I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Cleeth,” a slightly younger councilman interrupted when Belt Beard began to argue. For a minute, I thought he was describing a specific type of fart, but apparently that was Belt Beard’s name. Gods. Poor guy. “We don’t have time for your bullshit.”
My eyes widened; I exchanged a delighted glance with Rook, who exchanged a delighted glance with Xiona, making us an amused little threesome.
“Any movement?” Kier asked Cherish, who shook her head. “Then we have some time to finesse the plan. Let’s head back to the castle. Archard, draw up a list of the ten most powerful people left in Lazankh. Eliminate anyone over fifty or afraid of heights.”
Archard—the one who called out Belt Beard’s bullshit—straightened and threw up a salute of all things. “Yes, your highness.”
He scurried off. Cleeth followed carefully, apparently nimble and strong enough to climb five flights of stairs to the top of the guard-tower but not to fight.
The third councilmember, a midnight-complexioned woman in her forties with sky blue puffs of hair and striking eyes, gave us a look.
I fully understood it the second she sighed, “Men,” and followed them down the stairs.
I made an impressed face when I saw she’d scaled the tower in heels.
Note to self: do not underestimate that woman, too.
“One hour,” Kier reminded us, then shook the hand of the watchman, and led the way back to the ground.
I frowned at the tall, broad man waiting for us below in tight-fitting dark leathers. The biceps strained under his bulging muscle as he crossed his arms over his chest, a new sword dangling from his hip. I blinked, and then blinked again, exaggerating each one.
“What wondrous sight doth mine eyes see,” I called, cupping my hands around my mouth. “You look a lot like a friend of mine, but he’s abandoned us so you can’t be him.”
“Hilarious,” Hames drawled in a flat voice, his brows low over his eyes. I didn’t miss the gleam in his stare, though.
“No, seriously. Has anyone ever told you, you have more than a passing resemblance to Hames Whatever-Your-Surname-Is?”
“Aurelya.”
“Aurelya? Hames Aurelya. Huh.”
His eyes narrowed further. “What?”
“Pretty name for such a big, strong meathead.”
He shoved my shoulder when I was close enough, that glimmer of amusement blooming into a smile that matched his pretty name.
“Where have you been, asshole?” I demanded, aware of Kier, Cherish, Rook, and Xiona joining us. Hames’s gaze went to Cherish, scanning her for distress.
“The forge,” he replied, which was… honestly, not what I expected.
“Far be it from me to judge you for getting into crafting right as the world’s ending but—a forge? What the hell, Hames?”
He dug into an inside pocket in his tight leathers, having to really work his hand in to reach it because his muscles took up all available space.
“We probably have a bigger size of leathers,” Rook offered, thinking along the same lines as me.
“He likes to peacock his muscles,” I stage-whispered.
“Peacock?”
“You know?” I puffed my chest out and strode a few steps away, pretending to flutter my feathers.
“You’re thinking of yourself,” Hames drawled. “And since you’re happy to make fun of me, you mustn’t want the gift I made for you.”
My eyes bulged. “You made me a gift.”
“There’s one for all of us, and for Kier. Sorry,” he added to Xiona and Rook. “I didn’t have time to make any for you.”
“I’m heartbroken,” Rook said with shocking sincerity I knew was complete shit. “What are they?”
“Rings impregnated with my healing magic,” Hames explained. Hopefully no one saw the glance Kier and I shared at the word impregnated.
Hames passed a solid pewter ring first to Cherish, then me, then Kier. Cherish’s had a lovely big sapphire set in a diamond shape. Mine had a speck of a gem. Kier’s was even smaller. “The stones aren’t as important as the band; I hammered the magic into the metal itself.”
Kier let out a low whistle, inspecting his. “This is fine work.”
“Did you just whistle?” I gave him a look. “You’re such a man.”
His answering look reminded me of just how much a man he was. I smacked his arm. Now was not the time to be getting horny, when we might not survive the night. Or the next few hours.
“The rings will heal minor injuries,” Hames explained, shifting his weight, glancing at Cherish and I. Cute. “It won’t fix major wounds, but I figured it would be prudent.”
“Ooh, look at you using big words,” I said, slipping the ring onto my middle finger, the metal cold. I gave my hand a shake to make sure it wouldn’t fall off, then admired my new shiny. Plain, sturdy, but well made. I loved it.
“Prudent is only two syllables.”
“There you go again.”
“Letta,” Cherish chided, not quite able to hide her smile. She threw her arms around Hames’s shoulders and squeezed him in a rapid hug, jumping back before the embrace could linger. It made me a little sad, how they kept denying their feelings. “Thank you.”
Hames dipped his head.
“Well,” I said brightly, and hoped they couldn’t tell it was forced. “Now that we’re practically unkillable—”
“Really not what I said—” Hames muttered.
“Let’s go plan a sneak attack.”