Chapter 15
“You’re not trying hard enough,” Nymirae parroted through her mating bond. Because once again, I hadn’t Seen—and not for lack of trying.
My exhaustion didn’t help matters. What I wouldn’t give for a proper bath. Or a proper bed. Jumping into a cool stream in the evening wasn’t enough to remove all the accumulated grime when the moment I stepped out, sweat slicked my skin again.
And now, I had to endure another one of Iaoth’s admonishments through my keepers.
Althirin stood beside Nymirae, fury etched into his frown.
I’d spent an hour wringing my threadbare power dry.
No matter the focus I poured into the end of the prophecy, no more came from it.
Nor did anything regarding what the monarchs were doing.
Because if I could stay one step ahead of them, I could bring them down.
“Tell Iaoth that she should send us more food then,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “She expects me to See like those in the palace when I’m living worse than when I was on the run.”
Nymirae’s expression went glassy as she relayed my message. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Clearly, she didn’t understand the sarcasm dripping from my every word.
I spun on my heel. No reply from the Korona was worth waiting for. I’d hear it regardless of whether I wanted to or not.
I fucking hated her. Even more than her brother.
Even if every look we shared ached.
Even if the bond twisted so tight in my chest I couldn’t breathe.
It was as if we’d never gone through the claiming at all.
I wandered through wagons and tents toward the ocean, where I’d spotted some fallen threes bearing mushrooms before we’d stopped for the day. At least if I ate those, I wouldn’t be taking away from the recruits. I could do something for them.
Foraging was better than sitting still with twin sets of eyes boring into me at all moments. There was no relaxing, no relief in my stalkers’ presence.
A velvety voice slithered through the haze of my thoughts. I paused, cocking my head to gauge the direction of the sound. Turning left, I worked past a group of recruits scrubbing dishes in a big, soapy barrel.
Sitting on a felled log, the Issaraeth spoke to three males, two of whom could scarcely be over one hundred and sixty—the Angel age of maturity.
Hugging a striped canvas tent, I strained my ears to catch what he was saying.
“Suffering is how the Goddess teaches us the true meaning of happiness,” he explained. “Without one, we would not know the depths of the other.” He spoke like he knew from experience.
But didn’t I understand that juxtaposition too? After all, I’d witnessed the death of dozens at the hands of my mate. My parents had been killed because of our beliefs.
Yet I’d also known the joy of finally executing a complex series of starleaps and spirals. Of becoming certified as first class in Vaela?. Of what it meant to be loved by my mate.
“Why this war, though?” one of the younglings pressed. “I still don’t understand why we must suffer to win. If She wanted that, wouldn’t She just wield her power to make it happen?”
The Issaraeth tossed his dagger back and forth, the indigo gem in the hilt catching the firelight. “What victory is there in being handed something you did not earn?”
The recruit pressed his lips together, then dropped his head. “Our loved ones would still be alive.”
An ache twisted in my heart at the quiet way he said those words.
How many families had been torn apart because the monarchs wished to exterminate the Demons?
His father had probably died fighting before he’d even reached his one hundred and fiftieth birthday.
And now here he was, facing down the same fate.
Their distrust and disdain ran deep—deep enough to exploit.
“The Goddess has blessed each of Her holy warriors with an abundant next life,” the Issaraeth said as if to reassure them.
One of the others scoffed. “No one knows that for certain.”
“That is why you must have faith,” my mate chided.
“Faith,” the third spat the word like it was poison. “That’s all we’ve heard growing up. And now we’re forced to be here.”
Forced?
My brows furrowed.
“I understand that the conscription might have felt that way, but I can assure you–”
“Are we allowed to leave now?” the first one pressed.
The tiniest sip of frustration trickled through my connection to the Issaraeth.
“Well, no–”
“Then there is my earlier point,” the second cut him off. “How can a deity be benevolent, be the creator of Her people, only to destroy them?”
“There is no choice in this life. Only obedience,” the third added, knocking his boot into the edge of a log in the fire and sending sparks scattering.
The scar over my mate’s brow sank. Because those words had stabbed him in a deep wound. The three missed the barest twitch of his lips, the way his fingers tightened over the hilt of the dagger. But I didn’t.
“Is that not what the Aethere Scroll says?” the Issaraeth asked. “Those who obey shall know great power.”
I barely managed to smother my own disdainful snort.
I had at least a century on these young males, and I had been raised Elessarum.
The Aethere Scroll came to light in the new religion, a miraculous discovery some five hundred years before.
How was it that it had been hidden in Vysolai Temple for centuries after it was abandoned?
All other religious texts had existed for millennia before that, some dating back before the Fae arrived from other worlds, before the continents had broken apart.
Very few of the original books—in their true form—still existed. When I was young, the commune I’d lived in had possessed a rare copy.
“Our priestess told us we must trust Her plan. That our doubts were the Fates trying to thread falsities in our minds,” the first said, twisting a rope between his fingers.
“She was right. But don’t be frightened of the thoughts. Acknowledge them for what they are and let them go,” the Issaraeth explained.
Does my mate truly believe the platitudes, the thin explanations, of this new order?
Disgust crawled up my throat. I shrank back, only to freeze when his ice-blue eyes snapped to mine.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said to the three, rising and sheathing the dagger. “Tomorrow we can meet again if you still have questions.”
The younglings huddled closer together as he stepped over the log, path leading straight to me. I didn’t—couldn’t—move.
“Sylaira,” he murmured my name. Then he glanced over my head at my two keepers, courtly mask slipping into a scowl. “Do you two really need to be here?”
“Aye, Issaraeth. It is our orders,” Althirion replied.
I glared at the Angel with ocean-blue irises.
They were close enough for me to scent their fear-drenched sweat.
Because the Korona was punitive, and I’d overheard them speaking of what would happen if they couldn’t pry the future out of me soon.
The Issaraeth’s nostrils flared. “Should I expect you to watch the next time I fuck my mate?”
“That’s never going to happen again,” I shot into his mind.
He ignored me, continuing to flash the monstrous side of him I knew all too well.
Heat scorched my two stalkers’ cheeks. “Well, no, that would be inappropriate.”
My mate snatched my wrist and tugged me toward his tent. “Then get lost. And preferably in a place where the jaguars will find you.”
As furious as I was with him, I had to press my lips together to smother a snort.
“Yes, Issaraeth,” Nymirae said, a tremble sweeping through her frame. Though whether it was fear, embarrassment, or fury, I wasn’t sure.
I didn’t bother glancing back at them as we rounded a corner and out of sight. Only when I didn’t feel their keen attention on my spine did I dig my heels in. “I’m definitely not having sex with you tonight.”
The Issaraeth whirled on me, rage flashing across his handsome features. “As you said. But if it is the only way we can speak privately, let them think what they want.”
“What could you possibly want to say to me?” I scoffed, crossing my arms. “I’m sorry for lying to you, Sylaira.” I did my best to mock his velvety, deep voice. “You’re my mate and I never should have told you I was giving you virelthorn when I wasn’t?”
A storm brewed between us. But I didn’t care if I wounded him. I didn’t care to hear his justifications. Especially now that I knew these soldiers weren’t here of their own volition.
“Were they really not given a choice?” I hissed, dodging his hand as he reached for me.
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Some were not.”
“So now you’re going to speak true to me?”
“I promised you I would,” he replied, steel edging his voice.
On top of that tree, after I’d finally danced again.
After he’d told me he loved me. I still hadn’t put the ring he gave me back on.
Every time I opened my trunk, it was there, in a small box.
No matter how often I tossed it into his when he wasn’t looking.
“I swear to you that from this day forth, I will not lie to you again.”
That was what he had said; his carefully chosen words only infuriated me further.
“That was after you’d already deceived me with the fake virelthorn.”
A group of giggling females closed in on us. The Issaraeth gripped my shoulders and dragged me into the shadows, hiding us from their view. “Not here. We’ll talk more in my tent.”
“No,” I said, struggling in his grip. He released me, and I jumped backward. Only for him to catch my waist and throw me over his shoulder like I was a sack of grain. “Put me down!”
“What did you just say to me? No? Then that is also my response to you.”
I smacked his backside, but his grip on my legs was iron. So instead, I tried to wriggle my knee into his chest. But he’d picked me up on his right side, leaving his bronze-threaded scar out of reach.
I’d have dug into it if I could. Made him understand the pain he caused me.
Unceremoniously, he dumped me on the cot in his tent. I scrambled upright before he could pin me again, body too hot and bond twisting tight.