Chapter 12
Over a thousand men and women stood before us. Still. Silent.
Donned in leather armor, their breast plates were etched with a horse mid-gallop, and flowing capes of pale purple fell from their shoulders.
Unlike Terym’s men, the fabric didn’t flutter in the light breeze.
They were still. Frozen in time. Each held a sword and circular shield, some a spear-tipped flag a deeper purple than their capes, though the sigil matched their armor.
Terym stopped at the edge of the field, protected among his own men. When he released me, my feet carried me forward into the empty land separating blue from purple. I wasn’t alone, acutely aware of the man from the lamp walking beside me.
Guided by a feeling I didn’t quite understand, I edged closer to the silent soldiers. Front and center, two men stood out, different from the others. Their armor was more intricately detailed, capes a deeper purple than even the flags. Ranking officers.
Their features didn’t clear as I drew nearer, faces remaining shrouded in shadow. Indecipherable. They were solid, but also not quite, a little like the man at my side.
When only ten feet separated me from the army, every soldier stood to attention in a synchronized movement. Silhouettes shimmered with the motion, their shadows delayed in following them. Then as one, they each fell to a knee, heads bowed, exactly as the man from the lamp had.
The act of reverence halted me in my tracks. I looked to the man at my side, hoping he could offer some guidance. He inclined his head to the kneeling army in a sign of respect before he, too, fell to his knee.
Murmurs built in the crowd behind me while I remained rooted to the spot.
Roburvirtus, guide me. I offered the quick prayer to the Wielder of Strength before I glanced back at the king. Sandy brows were pulled low, and his arms were folded across his chest. He was not happy.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
My chest constricted again. For the second time in an hour, I had angered the king through no fault of my own.
“Please stop,” I begged the man kneeling before me. He needed to stop, they all did.
He raised his head. Dark hair framed previously silver orbs; his eyes now dulled into light gray.
I glanced back to the scowling king before settling on the man again.
Confusion flashed across his face so quickly I would have missed it if I hadn’t been watching so intently.
He rose to his feet, and at his raised hand, the army followed, back to standing in still and silent attention.
I didn’t relax, not when Terym approached, followed closely by Gensen, whose hand gripped the hilt of his sheathed sword. General Lenek walked with them, cruel eyes fixed on the army and a spring in his step.
Beside me, the man shifted, a small movement placing him slightly in front, putting himself between the approaching men and me. Warmth sparked in my chest at the simple act. No one had shown protectiveness toward me since my father died.
By the time the king reached us, his usual smile was back in place, all signs of his previous displeasure missing. In fact, he appeared almost giddy. He clapped once, and I flinched at the sudden noise. The beautiful man took another minute step forward, though he still stood to my side.
“Excellent. A wonderfully large army,” Terym said, rubbing his hands together. “They’ll follow my orders?” He directed the question to the man from the lamp, who stiffened.
When I looked at him, I once again found myself lost in a sea of gray. Gray that liquefied into molten silver the longer I stared. The intensity in them, the way he seemed to see directly into my soul, had an intense heat building in my body and my heart beating an erratic rhythm.
“The army is hers alone to command.” His words jerked me out of my reverie, the heat flooding my body moments ago cooled, rising to my cheeks.
His very presence had all sense leaving me. I’d done nothing but make a fool out of myself since the moment I touched the lamp. I needed to get a grip. There was too much at stake to get distracted.
Then what he said registered, and I sucked in a sharp breath. Command an army. This army. I didn’t want that, didn’t want any of it. I wanted to take Eleanor and run—now more than ever before. Because I could not do it.
The agreement I made with Terym didn’t include this. I didn’t give a shit if he was king. I wouldn’t travel across the kingdom, follow the army to the border, and order them to fight. To kill.
“No matter. I command her, therefore command the army,” Terym stated, oblivious to the strangling panic gripping my throat. “Come, my dear.”
I followed the three men in a daze, Gensen walking backward, covering the king with his gaze fixed on the army and a white-knuckled grip on his sword.
If I was the only one who commanded them, did he really think I was stupid enough to order Terym’s death while my sister was under the watch of his men? Sick them on him like you would a dog?
The full weight of everything slammed down on me, smothering me.
This day. The beautiful man residing within the lamp. Commanding an army.
Gods, it was all too much.
A band tightened around my chest as nausea churned in my stomach. My breaths shortened into panicked gasps, and my vision swam. I couldn’t stop it. I was going to pass out in the middle of the camp, in front of everyone.
My next gasping breath was different. Smoother. Tainted by floral and wood. It trickled into my lungs like a cool night’s breeze, offering me just enough that the next breath was deeper. Fuller. And then the next.
A light brush against my elbow pulled me entirely free, and when I looked down, I found the beautiful man’s hand retreating, those strange markings covering every one of his fingers.
He’d freed me from my panic and off the brink of a full attack. Cleared my mind and calmed my breathing without a word, only his scent and a simple touch.
When I turned to him for an explanation, I met a gaze filled with concern—lips tugged down as he studied me closely.
“Thank you,” I whispered. He only held my gaze.
When I looked forward, Gensen’s eyes were narrowed on me, lips turned down in a disapproving frown. I hurried forward to catch up to him, the king already disappearing into his large tent.
In deep discussion with several of the lords and generals, Terym didn’t acknowledge me when I entered. I hovered on the fringes of the group, the man from the lamp still at my side as I waited far too long to be dismissed. I longed to eat and rest.
“Ah, my dear Adelia. You’re still here?” Terym exclaimed. I met his gaze, unsure how to proceed in this new situation I found myself in.
“Nathanial will take you back to your tent. He’ll watch over you for the rest of our time here.” He gestured to the younger soldier at the entrance, who bowed to the king at his order.
I curtsied instead of replying. The words I wanted to speak would only get me into more trouble. The king had lied to me. Manipulated me. Now I would be under “guard.” We both knew it wasn’t for protection—he wanted to keep an eye on me.
I hurried from the tent, the man from the lamp at my side and Nathanial trailing after us. We walked past the newly created army, standing as they had been when we left them what must have been hours ago.
I stopped, turning toward the man who created them. “Do they need tents? Food?”
He tilted his head, studying me closely, like he was trying to work me out. His voice was full of sensuous gravel when he finally spoke. “They are memories of those who once were. They do not think. They do not feel. They just are.”
The tingling shiver elicited by his words wasn’t the good kind.
Well, shit. I had unintentionally raised an army of once-dead soldiers. Soldiers who’d sacrificed themselves to defeat a great evil—if the king’s story was to be believed. The knowledge I disturbed those people made me sick. It wasn’t right.
I had no words for that revelation, so I continued onward, avoiding the sight of the still beings I’d unknowingly raised from the dead.
The beautiful man stuck close to my side, closer than any stranger should. Except he didn’t feel like a stranger, he was more. Important.
Essential.
Just the thought of him not being close made my chest constrict again, but it released with my next breath when his scent filled my lungs.
I mulled over every interaction we’d had since the moment he emerged from the lamp.
The draw to him was ingrained in my skin, with no sense or reason behind it.
A deep-seated need. One I didn’t understand but couldn’t question right now.
My mind was already full of my responsibilities to my sister and the king.
It wouldn’t do me any good to fixate on this newfound connection.
We garnered many stares as we moved through camp. Some of interest, others of fear and suspicion. I was too tired to take offense today. My legs sluggish, and my hands … still clasped the lamp. I hadn’t let it go again, even after the man was released from it.
Once in the privacy of the tent, I moved to the jug of water beside the bed. The lamp was cool in my hands, the surface sticky with my blood. It was still, the low hum silent.
I glanced toward the entrance, cleaning my blood from the smooth metal. The man from the lamp had halted, gazing around the space with an expression bordering on curiosity.
Fuck, I needed to know his name, I couldn’t keep calling him “the man from the lamp” in my head.