Chapter 28
VARIDIAN
Obviously, we didn’t kill Kamaal. Neither did we kill the four people in that terrace house on the hills above Earlsorn, especially when it became rapidly clear that we were aligned in wanting rid of the wyverns and dark riders who’d invaded Wyfell, then Daurith, Tourlestyn, and as of this morning, Strava.
Four cities. Four fucking cities, now occupied by araethawn warriors.
The question remained—on my father’s orders, or someone else’s?
I pinched the bridge of my nose, sitting on one of the floor cushions.
I’d had to sit down when Khalid—Ameirah’s cousin, the dull soldier who obsessed over war stories—told us my brother had been spying on the king for over a year. Spying.
When I saw Kamaal again, I would throttle him. I thought he’d watch over Ameirah, keep her safe, and now I couldn’t help but think he’d drawn her into a political scheme whose end goal was, apparently, to remove our father from the throne. And replace him with Kamaal.
And not just any spy.
“A spymaster,” Zaarib said for the second time, disbelief rife in his voice. “A spymaster.”
“That’s what I said,” Khalid said with narrow-eyed judgement. “Are you lacking brain cells?"
Zaarib bared his teeth; Khalid bared his back.
“Stop swinging your dicks around,” barked Rana, the oldest member of their group—Kamaal’s legion.
The Legion of Silverstorm. An airborne horde of wyvern riders, not simply ground warriors anymore.
He’d done this in secret, without telling me.
Despite me making no secret of the fact I despised our father, Kamaal had kept me in the dark while he trained his ground legion to fly, while they bonded wyverns, while they collected information on the king, the council, and every power player on the continent.
On the continent, because this legion had information on Kalder, too.
Not in the same way the Torn Isle did, through an emissary and peace talks; through subterfuge and deadly missions.
I was definitely going to throttle my brother when I saw him again.
Did you know about this? I demanded of the lightning soul.
Her silence spoke volumes.
And yet you allowed me to send my wife there, under his protection.
Threads of fate, she replied. Things are falling as they are meant to.
I didn’t bother replying to that bullshit. My shock was giving way to anger, and I couldn’t afford to lose control. Something told me I’d need every last lightning bolt for what was to come in Morysen.
“The Torn Isle sent Fyrevein to kill us,” Rana said to Khalid, “because they know we know the bodies dumped on their shores were put there by their own people.”
“They—what?” A headache began to flare at my temples. “That makes no sense.”
She scoffed, giving me the same searing look she gave Khalid.
“They’re as involved in this dark war as any of the king’s council.
It’s the same as the last time darkness tore across this continent—the Zalaam queen promised power in untold levels, and her allies didn’t give a shit who died in pursuit of that power as long as they got their share.
I bet there are corrupt leaders in every city.
They must have assumed they could corrupt you, too, if they sent you after us, if they were willing to risk the chance we’d ally our forces. ”
“Forces,” Shula repeated, jumping on that word. “How many forces are we talking? Enough to fly into Morysen, break someone out of the dungeons, and get out again?”
I could have hugged her for how focused she was on freeing Ameirah.
Khalid fixed his shrewd eyes on her, then gave me a knowing look. “You would have assassinated the Silver Rider in exchange for Torn Isle’s help in freeing Ameirah.”
“Lucky guess,” Zaarib muttered under his breath, glaring at Ameirah’s cousin. My cousin, too, I realised.
“Answer Shula’s question,” I bit out, and forced myself to add, “Please.”
“You can’t expect us to trust you simply because you agree the king’s a dick and we’re at war,” Khalid laughed, caustic enough to fray my temper.
“Ameirah is imprisoned,” I snarled, ignoring the lightning soul’s advice to take a breath.
“She is locked up in dungeons where blood permanently stains the cells, where unforgivable atrocities occur in secret, where people disappear into mass graves never to be found. Where right this minute, my wife could be screaming and begging for mercy that will never be granted before she is slaughtered and thrown into one of those graves—”
My voice strangled, my chest heaving with hard breaths.
I couldn’t forget the fear in her eyes in that dream, couldn’t forget the way she clung to me, trembling all over as she tried to remember what had happened to her.
I couldn’t forget the pain I’d felt only hours before, strong enough to make me almost slide off Mak’s back as we flew into the Red Star.
Hers. I didn’t know how, didn’t know what magic allowed me to sense her pain, but that agony belonged to my wife. I had no doubt of it. How long would it be before I felt them torture her again?
“We have enough to get into Morysen and out again,” Khalid said, any snarling amusement wiped from his expression. “We’ll fly in with you, and reinforcements will only be an hour behind.”
I stood in a rush, blood pounding in my head, and I knew the clouds were dark over Earlsorn, knew a storm gathered. Power I would no doubt pay for later, with more marks on my body. I didn’t give a shit as long as I got Ameirah back before the king could hurt her.
“Shula, explain our plan. Work through any issues. I need some air.” I didn’t wait for my friend’s confirmation before I strode for the door, gasping down lungfuls of hot air when I reached the small, unevenly paved road outside.
I couldn’t stop feeling that pain, couldn’t stop hearing her voice as she shook in my arms.
I’m afraid, Varidian. I’m so afraid, and I can’t remember why.
My head spun, and the sky turned dark, shadows of clouds passing over me. I needed to get my shit under control, but I couldn’t. Ameirah was imprisoned, the captive of a man who would do anything, torture and kill anyone, in his quest for power. I struggled for breath, my head spinning.
“I didn’t realise,” an unwelcome voice came, the door closing as Khalid joined me. “That you loved her so much.”
“More than anything,” I snarled, and jolted when the man grabbed my wrist. Only the fact that my chest opened to allow a rush of breaths stopped me from stabbing him. I looked at him in surprise. “You’re a healer.”
A sharp nod was his reply.
I didn’t know what power I’d expected from the scowling gentry but not healing.
“Good,” I said, the words hard to get out. “Ameirah will need you.”
“Tempted to say she wouldn’t need me to heal her injuries if you’d done your job and kept her safe, but I don’t like to kick a man while he’s down.”
“Yet you said it anyway.”
He shrugged, arms folded over his chest as he assessed me with a critical stare. “I know Ameirah thinks I’m a pretentious fucker, but I value family. Even more so after—Naila.”
Yes, he was that traitor’s brother. My gaze hardened, and I analysed him in a new light.
He rolled his eyes, mouth flat. “Before you start throwing baseless accusations around, I didn’t know any of the shit she did until later. And everything I’ve done since has been to correct the mess she started.”
I ground my jaw, biting back a hundred different words. Finally, I asked, “Do you know why she did it?”
“I know why she did it, and I can guess at why she was given that task. She wanted power. She always felt inadequate, even though it was total bullshit. Our father is—not an easy man to live with. Never wanted a daughter and took that out on her. Naila never spoke to me about it, but I knew when she joined your legion, it was a middle finger to Father. Or worse, my sister trying to earn his approval. He’s always praised magic and strength, practically drummed it into us.
No doubt, whoever turned Naila convinced her she’d become immensely powerful. ”
“And why she was given the task?” I prompted, digesting the information.
Understanding, but never forgiving. Not when she shattered Shula’s heart, deceived all of us—all in the Legion of Fyrevein and all of Ithanys.
Not when her treason led to so many deaths it was impossible to even estimate a number. Not when we’d had to bury the bodies.
“It was how that bitch queen held so much land in the last war, how she conquered so much power and kept us defeated. She turned us against each other. This war between us and Kalder? It serves them. It has never served us. Tell me—why did the war begin?”
I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t remember why. No one I knew could remember what had begun the feud.
But the Zalaam queen? She was a historical figure, not a current threat. And yet… both the Torn Idle and Chakir Kissami said our enemy were araethawn. Not the peaceful kind who’d become victims to the war in a different way; the ones she corrupted into her Zalaam warriors, her twisted army.
“Exactly,” Khalid said grimly. “We—” He shielded his eyes with a hand as he scanned the skies. No, watched a wyvern shooting straight across Earlsorn, not making an attempt to hide their approach.
I whipped around to warn the others, but Khalid grabbed my elbow.
“It’s Zaina. She’s one of us. But she’s supposed to be in Morysen with Kamaal.”
“Something is wrong,” I growled, pulling my arm free and calling my legion from inside. An itch began between my shoulder blades, and my feet burned with the need to run.
More and more, the lightning soul said in a low voice. The threads converge.
What the fuck does that even mean?
It’s almost time, she replied, and even she had the sense to sound worried. This path will always bring me face-to-face with my greatest enemy, and the time is almost upon us.
Your greatest enemy. The araethawn? I asked, watching the sapphire wyvern sail closer, the rider atop the small creature familiar by face if not by name.
I’d seen her with my brother enough times to know she was one of his closest friends.
Even if I hadn’t known Khalid was part of his unit.
The others too had been kept far from the capital.
The distrust burned, but it was easy to brush it off and focus on Ameirah.
I didn’t notice the lightning soul declined to answer. Not as the sapphire wyvern landed at the end of the narrow street and their rider leapt off, running the moment her boots connected with the ground.
“He’s gone,” she shouted, her expression stark with panic. “Kamaal’s gone. The last time anyone saw him, he left the palace aerie with Ameirah.” She panted, skidding to a stop in front of us, eyes on Khalid as she rasped. “And Kaazhim.”
By how soundly Khalid swore, I knew the esteemed gentry was no ally of ours. I wasn’t surprised; he and my father were as thick as thieves.
The Legion of Silverstorm explained what they knew in hasty answers to blunt questions. And together we made a sprint for where we’d left our mounts—then, we were airborne, flowing into formation towards Morysen.
I prayed we weren’t too late to stop whatever Kaazhim and the king had planned for my wife and brother.