Chapter 50
Collared and leashed to Iaoth’s commands was not where I wanted to be.
Yet I found myself—once again—racing from the far side of Sivy to the nightly council meeting.
The throng that I’d broken up hours earlier still lingered in the heart of the city, glaring from between market stalls as I fetched my horse.
Apparently no one enjoyed the idea of being marched to the front to die—even though they’d heard for years that soldiers in the holy war were generously rewarded in their next lives.
A white-robed priestess gripped the railing around the tree in the center of the square, shouting about the Goddess’s plan for the final push to exterminate evil from Keleti.
The faithful gathered beneath her, peering up like she was the deity made flesh.
I tipped my head to her as I swung into the saddle.
Her attention flicked back to me in subtle acknowledgement.
Iaoth had me escorting and guarding the crown’s mouthpieces to quell the unrest. Centuries of support from the priestesses meant that it didn’t take much to soothe the flock, to convince them that the Goddess was on our side. We simply needed to trust Her timing.
“A Seer with ice-blue eyes now resides in the palace!” she called out. “Our Radiant Mother blesses her creations once again. Through Her divine messages, those called to serve in Her holy war will save us all.”
Goddess damn Iaoth.
My molars ached from how hard I clenched my jaw. That the Korona was waving Sylaira like a shiny weapon above a crowd too ready to cheer infuriated me. My mate was already a beacon at court. It was one thing to protect her from the nobles, but the general populace?
Of course my sister was punishing me in the cruelest, most vile way she knew how.
Not to mention the endless obligations grinding down every day. By the time I fell into bed in the evenings, all I could think about was burying myself between Sylaira’s thighs.
I should have taken my mate and run the moment I’d escaped Iaoth and Stadiel after the ball.
Every instinct I possessed screamed to steal her away, to vanish into the night and damn the consequences.
But there was nowhere safe for us in the Angel Realm.
Not with the two zealots perched on their thrones, their hunger for power higher than peaks in the Skala Mountains themselves.
As selfish as it was, I wanted more for Sylaira than a life spent hiding from hunters.
I wanted her on a stage, bathed in the light she chose, twirling.
So I stayed. Maelsar and I schemed in shadowed corners and hushed tones, piecing together a new path for the Angels.
One that might buy us a new future and give me the right to stand by her in it.
The city blurred by me as I mentally rehearsed what I needed to say to the other Herr and Kisst regarding our army’s future plans and my imminent departure after the trial by light.
I stalked the halls of Thalvireth after handing off my stallion at the stables, steps long and eating up the ground. At this rate, I’d be late, which would only anger the Koron further.
The banishment to the front should have felt like a victory after years of trying to convince my sister and her husband I was of better use there than hunting Elessarum and Seers. But with Sylaira in tow, it was a special kind of purgatory.
Which was why I’d thrown myself so heavily into feeding the war machine. I wasn’t taking my mate there without a healthy barrier between us and the Demons.
Not that I told Sylaira that was what I was doing all day.
I’d already lied to her about something worse; this omission was nothing in comparison.
After I claimed her, she softened toward me.
The storm of her hatred had silenced. And there was no way I’d willingly shatter the tenuous peace between us.
At the thought of my mate, my cock twitched. Fuck, I couldn’t get enough of her—ghostflower in my nose, peaches on my tongue. I was a male possessed by need, no matter how exhaustion tugged at my limbs. No matter how Iaoth screamed at me every time she summoned me.
These days, she spat my name like it was poison—and outright refused to utter Sylaira’s.
According to my mate, despite the constant drugging to wring visions from them, my sister hadn’t made an appearance in the Divine Atrium since the ball.
Fear writhed in my gut. Because if she wasn’t there, she was plotting something. And when she disappeared like that, someone usually turned up dead.
At last, I strode into the maw of political posturing, already waiting for the jaws to snap around me.
Herr Elyriane glared at me from down the massive oak table as I took my place. To sit at the right hand of the Koron was the highest honor, the signal of his most favorite. If only everyone knew what truly happened to their monarchs’ favorite punching bag.
Especially Zarethiel. He had been kicked a few seats down the lefthand side when he’d once sat across from me. Another flex of Stadiel’s power as he attempted to regain control after the shockwave of the trial by light announcement swept through the court.
Now, Kisst Caerelith, Maelsar’s father, had usurped the Herr.
Our Koron rose, and all murmurs hushed. “Zahal Ishim is waiting at the mouth of the Paks Desert. But he expects the new surge of red-eyed beasts to arrive within a fortnight.”
At the mention of the Demons, righteous indignation rang out among the males.
“Can he hold them off for now?” Herr Elyriane asked, his attention sliding to me. “Or will you need to send Herr R?viel to join him imminently?”
No one knew that it was by his request that I was finally being sent to the front, permanently.
He’d snatched every opportunity to subtly remind me of the power he held over me.
Clearly, he hadn’t forgiven me for striking him at the ball.
Or Commanding him. And he likely wouldn’t, even after our trial.
I had half a mind to do it again then to get him to fuck off.
“He will depart two days after the trial, giving time for additional reinforcements to arrive from the south. Which is why you must all return or write to your estates across the realm and call upon your denizens to continue to volunteer. We don’t want to force anyone to fight, but if we must…
” Stadiel trailed off, the threat hanging with the humidity in the air.
He wouldn’t hesitate to send those seated around this table off too.
Some of their kith already served as officers, but they’d been spared as heads of houses. Until the Koron deemed otherwise.
“Have those stationed near the wall delivered any further news?” Herr Ilythar?, Zuriel’s uncle, asked. I wasn’t sure if it was out of concern for his nephew or he was genuinely curious.
The lone group hiding among the massive peaks of the Skala Mountains had been the ones to spot the influx of Demons to Uzhhorod, the capital of the Demon Realm.
It was so easy for the council to talk about the risk they took flying over the wall for a better glimpse.
Their reality was that every leap might lead them to meeting the Goddess.
Up there, the air was thin, which made flying precarious.
With the sharp rocks and chilled glaciers, death was one forceful gust away.
But they couldn’t merely leap over the wall and walk down the other side and into the valley that nestled Uzhhorod.
The Demons had controlled massive lengths of the divider between realms for decades, and that particular spot was heavily fortified.
With our different coloring, inserting spies was impossible. At least it worked in reverse too. Hence the importance Iaoth and Stadiel placed on our Seers.
“Not yet,” a Kisst, whose territory that spot fell under, offered. “Though I expect a message imminently.” His eldest son and daughter headed the hidden forces beneath the wall, the only group standing between the Demon Realm and a direct path to Sivy.
Someone snorted down the table. “All these messages we have to constantly wait on. We need to act.”
Stadiel leveled a harsh glare in the male’s direction. “Acting without insight is a fool’s errand. Tell me, Rhael, did you suddenly become Elessarum?”
Those surrounding the table fidgeted in their seats.
“I’ll send my fastest ravens,” another Kisst offered, breaking the tension. “Where do we call them?”
“Eloi,” I replied. Selfishly, I wanted additional bodies surrounding the largest city in the north when Sylaira and I arrived.
Technically, it was part of my svaethi, though it bordered on Kisst Caerelith’s lanthi.
There was a military academy north of there, one of several spread throughout the Angel Realm.
Given the Demon army’s position, it was a natural choice.
But wars weren’t won with only logic. Desperation and fear played their parts in strategy too.
And with what I had to lose, I wasn’t taking any chances.
“The Issaraeth will oversee their arrival and ultimate union with the rest of the army,” Stadiel explained.
I was under no guise that he was doing this as a favor to me.
Rather, he wanted me out of his sight as much as Herr Elyriane did.
And this was a convenient cover to the fact that they had to concede some ground to the power-hungry noble.
Still, they were allowing me to bring Sylaira with me when we departed. I’d bargained away more political capital to take Heraphia too. My mate wouldn’t leave without her friend, of that I was certain.
Iaoth had already planned to have Sylaira under constant surveillance, keeping her chain tight when she was out from under her wings.
Adding Heraphia to the mix was no different.
And to ensure Iaoth received word for word what they had Seen, she was sending two mated pairs with us.
One half remaining in Sivy, the other part of our traveling party.
I was under no illusion that Iaoth wasn’t planning on pushing the two females to the limits of their powers while she still had access to them. And after our departure, their keepers were sure to have secret instructions of their own.
Because Calrien was to accompany us too. What trust I had in him had crumbled to ash since our return. There was no doubt in my mind now that he was under my sister’s thumb.
“My son will also accompany them,” Kisst Caerelith added. For which I was incredibly grateful. Maelsar was a much-needed ally amid all the games being played in the Angel Realm.
“The Elessarum traitors can wait until we’ve won this war,” Stadiel growled, bracing his knuckles on the table. “We’re so close to victory. If we can overwhelm them with our own reinforcements, I’ll be seated on the throne in Gyor Palace come winter.”
“What about supplies for these new soldiers?” a southern Kisst dared ask. Those around him subtly shifted away as Stadiel’s attention landed on him like a heavy boulder.
A muscle ticked in my jaw from all the things I wanted to say but couldn’t.
“Have them bring whatever they can carry,” he stated, each word measured. But I knew him well enough to know that he was fuming underneath his cool exterior. “Metal too. Our smiths can forge more weapons from scraps.”
“And food?” the male asked, oblivious to the temperature drop in the room.
“We had a bountiful harvest this summer,” Stadiel snapped. “And in autumn, there will be more crops in the north.”
Liar.
Kisst Caerelith and I shared a look. We knew it wouldn’t be enough to feed all our forces unless we compelled the farmers to surrender the food without pay.
When we reached the grassy plains, I doubted the peasants would have a choice.
“We don’t have any time to waste. Some will have to make long journeys north. Go forth and call upon your people again. By the divine will of our Radiant Mother, who has long favored our holy war, we will win this year,” Stadiel ordered.
As one, the heads of houses rose, hooking our thumbs together and pressing our palms to our hearts. “Goddess save you, Koron,” we said in unison.
With a wave of his hand, he dismissed everyone.
Zarethiel lingered one moment longer, his toothy smile making my fingers itch to wrap around his throat. I tucked my hands behind my back and stared down my nose at him instead.
“How are the preparations for the trial coming?” he asked Stadiel.
“Everything will come together under the Goddess Moon. You only need to concern yourself with being present on the night,” the Koron drawled.
“Ah, but I must ensure the spectacle is appropriate restitution for the wrongs done to my house. After all, Dasha is once again on the marriage market, and I fear without a proper trial, no one will want to take her hand,” he all but purred. “She’s been tainted by Vaeron.”
I refrained from rolling my eyes. “Issaraeth,” I corrected him instead.
He pinned me with a glare, his smile faltering. One rose on my face in its stead, merciless in its intent.
“You know your house will be made whole,” Stadiel snapped. “Now get out. I have other matters to attend to.”
Zarethiel swept into a deep bow, coming up with malice threaded through aquamarine. “Of course, Your Grace. My apologies.”
Stadiel didn’t acknowledge him again as the male swept from the room. But I knew better than to retreat.
The scar on my chest burned like my father was carving the words all over again—a warning to keep my emotions in check, no matter what wrath Stadiel planned to unleash on me.
For it could be any number of things, and I had no way of knowing which.
Once we were alone, he whirled on me. “You’ve wanted to be a permanent member of the army for a long time, Vaeron. Do your duty. Do not disappoint me this time. Remember who is forfeit should you fail.”
I needed no reminder about the stakes of the next few weeks. They were ever-present in my mind, even when I tried to shove them into a vault and lock them away so Sylaira wouldn’t hear.
My nails bit into my palms. I wanted nothing more than to go to her then, to hide away for a few hours and pretend like we were the only two people in all the worlds. “Always, Your Grace,” I managed to say with a smoothness that didn’t betray the seething seeds planted deep in my heart.
A long moment passed while we stared one another down.
Stadiel might have had a century over me, but I was now in my prime too, and my magic carried an understandable measure of fear among his people.
Other than Ishim’s magic, no other Kisst, Herr, or Angel with ice-blue irises alive could wield their power in a way that threatened his position.
No, political instability and groups plotting to kill him with bronze blades were his greatest fear.
Duty above all.
The words pulsed at the lie. And as I exhaled and spun on my heel, I allowed a single treasonous thought to enter my mind: perhaps the realm would be better off with a different monarch.