Chapter 8
Every day, I woke alone.
As I should.
Sylaira didn’t want me. Why would she? I was a powerless monster, sharp teeth whittled down to nothing. At least when I’d been feared for my Command, the beast inside me was justified.
Now?
I was pathetic.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t yank myself out of this whirlwind of agony.
It didn’t help that every time I moved my left arm, pain shot through my skin.
The bronze stitched into me would never allow the flesh to properly heal.
The potions the healer had given me did enough for the wounds on my thigh and right shoulder to close, albeit with new, nasty scars.
Every night, the healer’s hands shook as he examined me, like he feared what I’d do if he moved too quickly. Because of course he had to ensure my newfound collar didn’t get infected.
I’d always been my sister’s hunting hound. A good, obedient pet.
And where had that gotten me?
Staring at the canopy, all alone. Even the stars hid from me, smothered behind clouds fat with rain that refused to fall.
I wanted the downpour to come. For the sky to split open and scream like I could not. At least then, relief would wash over me.
Instead, the air hung, clogged and humid and suffocating.
Duty had been carved into my soul centuries ago. Sylaira had shown me the cage I’d willingly sat in since that fateful day my father had used his magic on me. I’d started to break free…
Familiar footsteps approached, but I didn’t so much as move as Maelsar dropped down beside me.
“She didn’t See today either,” he reported. Because now he could protect my mate better than I could.
Those fucking keepers. My blood boiled when my best friend told me what they did after our first day on the road.
An hour with her power when she was wrung out and ragged and unlikely to See anyway.
Every night since, they’d cornered her the instant she dismounted.
They rode behind us, never letting Sylaira far out of their cage.
The tension ate at her, day by day. Even with the barricade between us, her frustration leaked through the cracks in her armor—and mine. Especially as I didn’t speak. Not to her, not to anyone.
She didn’t want to hear what I had to say anyway.
Because to me, her gift was a way of keeping her alive. Should Demons surge over the Skala Mountains, the Goddess would slam a warning into her. Should some assassin creep through the Es? Forest, her intuition would be sharp enough to slice through their attack before it started.
Nothing mattered more than her safety; without my Command, I couldn’t ensure it.
Maelsar spoke again, dragging me away from thoughts of my mate.
“The new recruits are having trouble assimilating. There are those who were waiting to be called to the holy war all this time. But the others? I didn’t realize how hidden the dissent was, especially in the south.
The Elessarum were always loud about it.
Now the disbelief in the war is spreading like rot through the ranks. ”
I didn’t reply.
“What should we do?” my friend asked.
A single raindrop fell onto my forehead. I ground my molars and swiped the offense from the sky away.
“Vaeron, you have to fucking talk at some point.”
He was wrong—my voice was nothing without my power.
With a huff, he rose like he was going to give up on me at last.
And then he tackled me.
A growl ripped out of my throat as I scrambled for purchase, wedging my forearm in his neck to keep him away from me.
But he swung hard, whipping my head sideways from the force of his punch.
I rolled to the side and spit blood on the ground.
He stole the opportunity to leap on my back and hook his heel into my hip.
Twisting to the side, I attempted to dislodge him.
He only tightened his arms around my torso. Nails digging into his flesh, I jerked his arm overhead and spun into him.
The fucker sported a mischievous smirk.
I wiped it off his face with a strike of my own.
He scrambled back, only long enough to knock me onto my side again. We rolled in a tangle of limbs, wrenching and wrestling to gain power over the other.
“What is wrong with you?” I snapped when I’d pinned him in a position to catch my breath.
“Finally, he speaks!”
“You bastard.” I surged to my feet, shaking out my limbs.
“Don’t tell me you don’t feel marginally better,” he taunted, rolling backward and popping into a crouch like he was preparing for me to launch myself at him again.
I hated that he was right. Chest heaving, heart pounding, life roared through my veins again, violent and furious. “You let me win.”
He pointed to the split in his lip. “Not a chance. I was planning on licking Lyriasthe tonight until the whole camp heard her scream. Now I won’t be able to do it at all.”
I rolled my eyes and held out my hand, hauling him to his feet. “How could you do that if Sylaira is sleeping with her?”
“Because I also planned on Sylaira being back with you,” he grinned like he was pleased with his attempt at trapping me.
“She doesn’t want that,” I groused, yanking the leather strip tying my hair back and smoothing the knot back in place.
Maelsar shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t care what either of you want, so long as I can have Lyriasthe all to myself. You don’t have to share a cot with her. Goddess knows your tent is big enough for five.”
“Let me see if I understand. You thought I was being a broody bastard, refusing to speak to anyone, but because you’re horny and can’t control yourself, you decided to attack me?”
“You’re smarter than you look,” Maelsar commented, jerking his head. “Now come on. Dinner is waiting.”
With a sigh, I followed him back toward the fires and the people looking to me to shepherd them into the final battle.
The pressure of it all weighed down my shoulders no matter how square I tried to keep them. Only a handful knew I’d been sundered from my magic. Which made all the murmurs of Issaraeth flay me raw.
But Maelsar was right. Dissent would not serve our holy war. Dissent would not keep Sylaira safe. Dissent would not make this group loyal to me, and me alone.
I needed to pull my head out of my ass and lead.
The self-flagellation had to stop. Though the self-loathing wouldn’t fade, not anytime soon.
But I could work with that still lingering in my bones.
“Come with me,” I told Maelsar after we grabbed plates of food. Thankfully, he didn’t question me as he followed. I searched for a group of southerners among those crowded around the fires and spotted a mix of males and females, their formation stitched tight.
Brows lifted as the two of us joined them. I knew how terrible I looked—beard unkempt, purple moons beneath my eyes. But my friend had been the jolt of lightning I’d needed to find a way out of this fucking mess.
“Tell me,” I began, my voice still rough from disuse, “where you’re from and what is bothering you tonight.”
No one spoke. I flicked my attention around the group, landing on a female with creamy white hair that reminded me of Lyriasthe. “You first.”
She swallowed hard and cast a nervous glance at her companions. “I lived by the ocean to the east until I was summoned to Stadur. I’m the oldest of three and I miss my sisters terribly.”
“The Goddess will watch over them while you are out here, fighting for Her.” The platitude rolled off my tongue with ease, and yet I knew I didn’t believe it.
Our Radiant Mother had abandoned me at last. But I still had to pretend that I was a pious servant, a warrior dedicated to Her designs. The crown was watching, and for now, I would appear to obey.
All the while undermining the monarchs, peeling off their support like I wanted to peel off their nails. Slowly. Painfully.
Maelsar gave me a subtle nod and called on the next Angel to speak.
Around we went, listening, lying, and laying the groundwork for these recruits to fight.
Yet with each revelation—of family left behind, of brothers and sisters who had already died, of struggles and suffering—my fury with my sister and her husband only grew.
We needed new rulers, ones who cared about the plights of their people. Who didn’t use religion as a weapon for compliance. Who didn’t believe this war was driven by a divine mandate.
Iaoth and Stadiel had to die.
And the only way to ensure that happened was to make moves of my own.
“We need to convince them to fight for us, and us alone,” I told Maelsar under my breath.
“There’s the Vaeron I’ve been missing,” he said, elbowing my ribs.
Acting instead of spiraling steeled my spine and renewed my strength. Even with this bronze threaded into my skin and power locked away, the Issaraeth still held sway over them.
So I spoke to dozens of new recruits, long into the night, until the fires burned low. Because when the time came, I needed them at their best to defend our realm. Because their loyalty to me was a weapon I could still wield to defend my mate.