Chapter 9
The air turned briny, seasoned with thick salt. Through the calls of birds overhead, the ocean crashed against the nearby rocky shores.
Thaerii.
The first city outside the clutches of the forest waited for us ahead. And I was grateful to be out from under the cover of trees. With an ocean inlet jutting right up to the city’s edge, there was no passing around it. The thick canopy made flying with our supplies difficult.
The only way was straight through the center.
I glanced over my shoulder at our procession, curving around a bend and out of sight.
Sylaira and Lyriasthe rode some distance behind us, neither paying attention to the upcoming gates, too involved in a conversation I couldn’t hear.
The sting of being unwelcome and uninvited into her life hadn’t lessened.
“Iaoth told me there are more soldiers for us to collect while we’re here too,” I grumbled to Maelsar. “Kisst Nyssavune has gathered quite the force, apparently.”
My friend shook his head, chuckling. “I can’t believe how often she uses those two to speak with you.”
“Can’t you?” I ground out, irritation nipping at my nerves. Althirion and Nymirae were twin thorns in my side. If killing them wouldn’t alert their mates—and by extension, my sister—they’d already be dead. I couldn’t break these shackles to the Korona. Not yet.
“Should we grab any supplies while we’re here?” Maelsar asked me.
I reached into my saddlebag and palmed the coin purse.
Though I hoped the Kisst would have arranged to restock us as well.
After all, we had to feed thousands every day.
“Perhaps some more meat. And if we can buy a few oxen, that will give us some to slaughter for the next week.” Past Thaerii, we’d enter a desolate stretch of road along the coast. While the openness would speed our trek, there’d be nothing between here and Vyss, the city at the edge of the Es? Forest. If we ran out, many would starve before we left the trees behind.
“I’ll ensure the procession keeps moving while you arrange that and find our new recruits,” my second-in-command offered.
Ahead of us, the log gates yawned open, the city’s watch preparing for the massive arrival.
Atop the perimeter wall, leather-clad warriors patrolled, many pausing to survey the size of our forces.
Some looked on with wariness, hands tightening on their weapons.
Others with longing, like they’d leap from the top and embed themselves in our midst.
How many awaited me, I wasn’t sure. But knowing that some had already held protective positions and knew how to fight was a relief. Most of the new soldiers at my back—especially the females—had never held a sword before.
As we rode into the main square, children peeked out from behind curtains, while still more shouted and pointed from their perches on the city’s roofs. Younglings raced forward, lining the thoroughfare.
“Issaraeth!” a male shouted, and I snapped my attention to a portly figure bumbling into my path. Yanking on my horse’s reins, I pulled him to a halt.
“I assume you are Kisst Nyssavune’s house manager?” I asked, keeping my tone cool and neutral.
“Aye, I am.” He swept into a deep bow. “If you’ll come with me, I have everything you need.”
My attention drifted beyond him, to the group of soldiers wearing packs lingering on the fringes of the main square. Crates stacked high beside them, and some of the tension in my chest eased. The Kisst had already arranged for supplies.
Dismounting, I walked my stallion to a hitching post and secured him there. Maelsar’s barked commands filled the air as I followed the house manager. Yet every step I took away from the procession had the bond thrashing in my chest.
Smothering the wince that wanted to rise, I pressed my hand over my well of magic like that would calm it. Everything in me screamed to take one last look at my mate before I disappeared into the city.
But she didn’t want me. She couldn’t even look at me again for Goddess’s sake. Like the sight of me was too painful to bear—like she’d rather have the chain linking our fates choking her instead of allowing it to settle with our proximity.
So I trudged on, my suffering a necessary penance for my countless sins, new and old.
The manager led me into an opulent building, the white marble columns reminding me far too much of Thalvireth Palace. My breath froze in my lungs as the stone pressed into me from all sides.
“Kisst Nyssavune called a thousand more from this city for our holy war,” he explained, reaching for a parchment scrawled with names.
“And we’ve just had a group of merchants from északi pass through with hides to sell.
I took the liberty of buying them exclusively for the army, so you may craft leathers for our new soldiers. ”
My carefully forged mask was the only reason I didn’t react. Something had happened in Sivy to force the Kisst to use his own coin for the war. He’d been a vocal dissident for years. And I was no longer there to Command him.
The bronze burned in my skin at the reminder of my lack of power, but not as fiercely as the question of what the Koron had done in my absence.
“Leather from the Night Fae is a highly prized commodity. The Zahal and I thank you for your generosity,” I said, taking the list from him and tucking it into my cloak.
“What changed the Kisst’s mind?” The question was casual enough that I hoped the house manager wouldn’t see it for what it really was—a fishing expedition about the goings on in Sivy.
“It seems that the emergence of the most powerful Seer in centuries and you being chosen by the Goddess in the trial by light has shifted my Kisst’s perspectives on the war,” he said, the words too polished, too rehearsed.
But they offered me further insight into the lies Iaoth and Stadiel whispered.
Not enough to plot with, but enough to know they leaned more heavily on their propaganda.
Though every Kisst and Herr was in attendance under the Goddess Moon, there had been plenty of protest at the end.
So what had they done to make them forget that my brother-by-law was moments away from removing my head?
“And what’s in the crates?” I asked, not wanting to raise the house manager’s suspicions. If Kisst Nyssavune had now sided with the crown, I needed to be very careful with my words.
“Ah, yes, those contain pickled fish and other foodstuffs we managed to gather. With this swell in your numbers, I figured you could use it.”
“You were right about that. Are there any oxen or cattle for sale? We have a long time before we reach Vyss, and I’d like to offer our holy warriors fresh meat.”
The male rocked back on his heels, hands clasped behind his lower back. “That I don’t know if I can manage with the limited funds remaining from my Kisst’s generosity.”
“I have golden wings for them,” I explained.
His eyes lit up. “Splendid. I’ll arrange for a runner to go to the fringe farms and round them up. How many would you like?”
“As many as fifty wings can get me,” I replied, the number bitter on my tongue. It wasn’t nearly enough, but I had to conserve coin, should we run out of food before we reached Eloi, where my manor and the military academy awaited us.
“I’ll see that you get a good price for each,” he promised, sweeping into another bow. “If you’ll excuse me.”
I leaned against the cool stone wall while he waddled around a corner. The moment he was out of sight, I tipped my head back and sighed. War was a costly endeavor, and with the crown coffers so drained, the army was going to suffer. The people were going to suffer.
I have to end this, and soon.
Shouts snapped my attention outside, along with a fearful twist in my bond. In two strides, I was in the doorway, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the daylight.
The children and younglings who had watched our progress with curiosity and awe had gathered, screaming and waving. But that wasn’t the sight that frightened me.
No, it was the mothers and wives and acolytes mobbing my mate.
“It’s the Seraelth!”
Realm saver.
The new title punched air from my lungs. Had this been Iaoth’s idea? Or had the people given it to her out of devotion, like they’d given Issaraeth to me out of fear?
“The Goddess’s chosen Seer!”
“She’s going to save us all from the Demons!”
Sylaira scanned the square, past the crowd. Like she was searching for someone to save her. Her mare backstepped as the believers reached for her. Fear engulfed our bond.
Maelsar charged through the mob toward her and Lyriasthe, who shouted at the group to stay back.
I was sprinting before I was conscious of what I was doing. Red tinted the edges of my vision. Blood pounded in my ears, in my veins.
Fucking Iaoth. She was turning Sylaira into a symbol and putting her at risk by doing so. These people were desperate, and Sylaira was a beacon of hope. The priestesses I’d escorted into Sivy had started it, and their words had already spread like wildfire through the forest.
A young female broke through the throng, managing to snatch Sylaira’s cloak.
I dove into my magic well, mouth opening in preparation to Command. But no white detonated from me. No words boomed from my throat. That strange ruby color—so similar to the blood I’d swallowed all those centuries ago—striated my vision instead.
Because I was fucking powerless. Useless. A pathetic excuse for a male and a mate.
Maelsar reached the enthusiastic female and yanked her backward. He shouted something to my mate and Lyriasthe, and the two tugged on their reins and bolted forward. A few of the recruits we’d spent time with chased after them, using their light magic to create a barrier.
And I stopped in the middle of the square, watching them go. Loathing myself the entire time. I was a failure.
Always had been. Always would be.
DUTY ABOVE ALL
The words were such a lie. Except when they came to my mate. The only way I’d gotten through to her before was when I’d protected her from the robbers. And I’d just lost another opportunity to show her how far I would go to ensure her safety.
My fingers drifted toward the scar on my chest, itching to yank out the bronze threaded there. Fuck the pain. Fuck my sister. Fuck the Goddess.
Why had She blessed me with everything an Angel could desire, only to keep it all locked away from me?
What had I ever done to deserve this? Because I accidentally consumed some Demon blood when I was trying to protect myself and my family?
“Issaraeth?” The manager said my title, and I forced myself to look away from the scene and face him again.
“Can you not control your people?” I snapped, still raw from the blades of my thoughts.
He blinked, his mouth parting before he gathered himself. “My apologies. I will send our city watch to calm the masses and ensure the rest of our holy warriors pass through peacefully.”
“Do it,” I gritted out, stomping away. He didn’t deserve my ire, but at the moment, my restraint was threadbare and thinning. I couldn’t snatch self-control when I was wretched and wrecked.
Until I faced the conscripts.
I’d always relied on my Command for power. The fear that came with being the Issaraeth. The respect that came with being head of House R?viel.
Yet Maelsar had just shown me that with the sheer force of will and loyalty of those we’d spent time with, he could clear a path for my mate. Each new soldier who obeyed us without question was a shield between Sylaira and the next battle.
I’d already convinced dozens. I’d spend every waking moment swaying thousands more to my side. Starting with feeding them, clothing them, and guiding them toward a future without fear of the monarchs in it.
So the entire time I spoke with the Thaeriian soldiers, my sole focus was on studying each of them to uncover what might turn them away from Kisst Nyssavune and the crown, and toward me.
By the time a dozen oxen rolled into the square, I was steadier than I had been since we’d left Sivy.
I instructed them to hitch the beasts to the back of the wagons now loaded with new crates.
The gallop back to the front did nothing to slow the racing of my thoughts. The plans tumbled over in my mind. Energy sparked beneath my skin.
And the moment I glimpsed the silvery sheen of my mate’s hair, it stuttered out once again.
Because even though I sensed her, and she sensed me, a tempest still brewed between us. I was drowning in the storm of Sylaira, and I had no way to break the surface and draw a new breath.