Chapter 16
Maelsar and I perched on the thick bough of a tree, overlooking a group’s nightly training.
I flicked open the note I’d received from the Zahal.
Ishim had been writing regularly, but this raven had cawed for my attention, its feathers rumpled and singed.
Waiting for a quiet moment to review the contents had been torturous.
“What did he say?” Maelsar asked, craning his neck to read over my shoulder.
I smacked him away. “If you’d let me fucking read it I could tell you.”
“So testy,” he groused, slumping against the trunk and crossing his arms. “I guess finally fucking her again didn’t help your mood?”
I ignored Maelsar’s jab. Sylaira might have been sharing a tent with me, but a chasm still yawned between us.
In the dim light, the words were difficult to discern. On instinct, I reached for tendrils of white power to illuminate the paper. Only to find my well empty. Resignation pulled a sigh from me. Why did I continue to snatch at what was no longer there?
Because I’d had it for centuries and took it for granted.
Through clenched teeth, I asked, “Can I borrow some of your magic?”
Sympathy softened Maelsar’s aquamarine eyes. I wanted to punch it out of him. He didn’t say anything—didn’t point out my lack of power—as he flicked bubbles into the air around us, highlighting the message.
Issaraeth,
I hope this note reaches you before Eloi. We are in desperate need of additional supplies. A group of Demons snuck into our camp outside of Lutsk and freed their prisoners. During their assault, they burned nearly a quarter of our infrastructure, including two massive supply tents.
We lost Banand in the process.
I swore under my breath. Banand had been our most valuable prisoner, a boon to our holy war, and the only real reason we’d been able to turn the tide in our favor the previous winter.
He had the power to create plagues, and we’d forced him to craft one that would only affect his kith.
Maelsar and I had led the charge to capture him and a few others—both to discern more information about their army and to ensure we had adequate leverage.
“Fuck,” my second-in-command swore, having crowded me again.
However, through our latest campaign, we learned that the Halálhívó has a mate.
My brows shot up my forehead.
“Does that say mate?” Maelsar questioned, snatching the paper from me and bringing it closer to his face. “Well fuck me. That bastard has a vulnerability now.”
A warning growl vibrated in my throat.
My best friend glanced up. “I didn’t mean to imply that Sylaira makes you weak.”
“Too late, Maelsar,” I grumbled, taking the message back.
Padisa Zaph of House Faelira managed to capture her and force the Halálhívó to parlay. He succeeded in slaughtering a third of the Demon army. Their subsequent attack was a clear retaliation and escalation.
“They captured her, but they didn’t kill her?” I questioned, mouth dipping into a scowl.
“Or him, it appears,” Maelsar commented. “Zaph is a fucking idiot. First he gets us into this war, and then he gets a second shot at killing the Halálhívó and doesn’t take it? I need more information about this encounter.”
“Ishim has claimed the Halálhívó’s death as his, and we know how much of an ass kisser Zaph is. Though he should have killed him while he had the chance. What are the odds we’ll get another?”
But the real question clawed at my mind: why were the Gods on both sides of this conflict bestowing mate bonds on the most powerful in each realm?
With the new recruits, we will have a force equal to theirs once again. We are stronger, and with our Radiant Mother’s blessing, we will win this year. I urge you to speed up your progress and join us as soon as possible.
With your reply, please include anything else your mate has Seen that could be of use to our movements.
This final battle in the mountains is most intriguing.
I have already begun sending soldiers back over the wall, although the progress is slower than anticipated.
I hope to discuss it further with you upon our reunion.
Ishim, most holy Zahal, divine appointee of the Goddess.
I rolled my eyes at his full title. Like Stadiel, he loved to flaunt his power and prestige.
“He’s going to have to die too, isn’t he?” Maelsar murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Given that he’d likely assume the throne in the event of the Koron’s demise, yes,” I whispered, folding the paper and tucking it away again. I hadn’t told Maelsar of my realization yet. We’d both agreed that the monarchs needed to die and had begun making plans prior to the trial by light.
Neither of us had thought I should crown myself in the wake of their deaths.
While the recruits trained below, sharpening their hand-to-hand combat skills, there was no telling who might be around, ears wide open. At least in Thalvireth, we’d had privacy to speak of our future plans, hiding in my room or disused closets in distant feathers.
Out here, it was increasingly difficult. Especially because of my infamy and how much time I’d been spending with the males and females pulled from their homes against their will.
I slid from the tree, landing on the ground with ease. At least my strength hadn’t been metered by the bronze.
Not that any of this group knew the Issaraeth could no longer break minds.
Maelsar and I stopped among them, demonstrating technique or pointing out areas of improvement.
“When you throw with your dominant hand, you have to turn your hips over,” I corrected, digging the ball of my foot into the soft earth and exaggerating my pivot for two females. “That is where your power resides.”
“Yes, sir,” they replied, shifting their weight until the movement flowed smoothly.
We hadn’t given them weapons—yet. The unrest among those who had been forcibly conscripted remained, and training them with blades while they still dreamed of desertion was a risk I wouldn’t take.
The dinner bell cut through the huffed breaths and shouted instructions. The pairs paused, thanking one another for the practice.
“Tomorrow we’ll work on defenses,” Maelsar shouted as they gathered their belongings.
The throng thickened as they worked their way from the edge of camp to the inner rings where food awaited them. As they cleared out, a tall male with sky-blue eyes emerged.
Calrien.
Fury stormed in my chest at the sight of him. So far, I’d been able to avoid any contact with the male who had served in my crew, all the while plotting against me.
But now, here he was, a female warrior barely over the age of maturity wrapped under his arm.
“Well, look who hasn’t changed,” Maelsar sneered.
“You’ve been avoiding me. I’m hurt,” he said, pressing his hand to his chest—right over his heart. Like we’d wounded him—though I know it was a subtle strike at the torment he’d helped inflict.
“Leave us,” I barked at the female.
She looked up at Calrien, her heart rate kicking up.
“I am the Issaraeth. You don’t look to him for confirmation. You look to me.” I ground out, stepping forward. I shook off the odd sensation. Because I shouldn’t have been able to feel that. It was merely exhaustion playing tricks on my mind.
A small squeak escaped her as I straightened to my full height. “Yes, sir.” With a quick salute, she scurried off.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Calrien pouted, gesturing to his fleeing companion.
“You mean saving her?” Maelsar scoffed. “She’s lucky we intervened before you sank your talons into her.”
“Are you still upset that I fucked your betrothed behind your back?” Calrien taunted me.
“Dasha was nothing to me. Your betrayal, though?” I took a long step, coming chest to chest with the piece of birdshit. “You were always so jealous of all the attention I got for my magic. When you’re nothing more than an Amplifier. No new word had to be created for what the Goddess gifted you.”
Ruby tinged his cheeks. His nostrils flared as he spit his next pathetic insult. “At least I still have it.”
My hand snapped out and wrapped around his throat. Blood pounded through his veins. “I may no longer be able to Command you, Calrien, but don’t think that’s a mercy. I can still make your life a walking hell. Iaoth isn’t here to save you now.”
I threw him away, forcing him to stumble back into a tree.
He clung to it as if frozen in place, lips curling back from his teeth.
But with a harsh jerk, he managed to shove off of it, hands fisted at his sides like he was going to fight me.
“She’ll know if you try anything, Vaeron.
You’re lucky I haven’t told her how much time you’re spending spreading the new order among the army. We both know you’re not a believer.”
“What’s she going to do? Send you after me?” I let a scathing laugh slip out. “No one in this battalion can best me, even without my magic.”
Calrien lunged forward, arm cocked.
Only to slam into a wall of white.
Maelsar grinned, coming to stand shoulder to shoulder with me. “We’d better not see your face again. Stick to the back of the group and I’ll make sure we don’t prevent your cock from getting wet. We all know that’s what you care about most.”
“But if I hear of you forcing yourself on those recruits, I won’t hesitate to rip it off.” A wicked smirk curved my lips as I imagined doing just that. The blood that would spray. How he would scream.
His hand went to his crotch with a pained groan. “Fuck both of you,” he snarled, shoving his own light power against Maelsar’s.
My best friend banished it with a flick of his wrist.
“Now go,” I ordered before he could say anything else.
Cursing me under his breath, he stomped past us to the camp.
I blew out a long breath once he was out of sight and raked my hand through my hair.
“Can we make sure he dies too?” Maelsar grinned—a bloodthirsty, feral expression that lightened my mood.
“Absolutely. Let’s go find something to eat before it’s all gone.”
Together we entered the camp, my title ringing out endlessly as we wound our way to the center. I ignored them all, mind drifting to what Ishim had conveyed in his letter.
The Halálhívó has a mate.
When did he discover his bond? And who was this female?
Something nibbled at the back of my mind. The timing of it curled unease in my belly. I’d been blindsided with mine only months ago, around the same time the scouts had seen new conscripts gathering in Uzhhorod.
They hadn’t mentioned the Halálhívó’s presence. But it did make me wonder if she’d been among them—if the Demons had changed their oppressive views on females in their realm.
We needed to get to Eloi, gather the northern forces, and ride to the wall. Fast.
Savory spices curled in my nostrils, drawing me out of my thoughts. We rounded a cart, colliding with Sylaira and Lyriasthe.
On instinct, I snapped my hand out and caught my mate before she could fall. Her lips parted, and my attention snagged on them. How I wanted to feel them pressed against mine again. How I wanted to hear the sounds that would slip past them as she rode me.
Peeling my fingers off Sylaira’s flesh had to be even more difficult than having a needle thread bronze into my skin.
“We were just going to find a place to sit,” Lyriasthe said, forced cheer in her tone. “Why don’t you two join us?”
I held my breath, waiting for Sylaira to publicly reject me again. At this point, it was no secret that animosity lingered between us. And for once, I couldn’t find it in me to care what other people thought.
She’d rained her hatred on me day after day—I’d already suffered through the worst of it. What was a little more water? Because I refused to believe I’d lost her for good. Not when I could picture our future so clearly now.
“We will,” Maelsar said for us, because Sylaira and I were still locked in a silent battle.
She swallowed and edged around me, settling on a three-legged stool. Maelsar and I took the ones opposite the two females who ruled our lives. A moment later, a cook slid bowls of soup toward us.
“Thanks,” I muttered, finding root vegetables floating in the thin broth. The lack of meat over halfway into our journey was concerning.
Need to check on our supplies in the morning.
Because leading a hungry battalion to a hungry army wouldn’t serve my aims.
Something prickled my awareness, and I glanced up, finding Nymirae and Althirion eating two tables away, their focus as much on my mate as their food.
“Those two should be shot. They’ve outlived their usefulness,” I grumbled under my breath to Maelsar. We did need to teach the recruits how to use bows and arrows. They’d be fantastic targets.
He followed my attention past Lyriasthe and Sylaira. “Were they ever actually useful?”
“To us? Never.”
“Should we put them on the list?”
“Absolutely.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Lyriasthe prodded, frowning.
“Those errand birds of Iaoth’s,” I replied, offering them glares before lifting my bowl and draining the remaining broth.
Sylaira huffed a laugh.
“What’s funny, little fugitive?” I cocked my head to the side.
“Nothing,” she sighed. But those ice-blue irises stared back at me, so clear, so cold…except for the agony etched in the flecks of aqua.
“Tell me,” I pressed into her mind, hoping she’d lower her walls and let me in.
To my shock, she did. “That’s what I’ve been calling them this whole time. I would have thought you’d heard it had I not done such a great job of keeping you out.”
My mate possessed such an uncanny ability to say the sharpest things. Words were her weapon of choice. And she wielded them well.
“At least we can agree on something,” I pointed out.
She rolled her eyes and downed her soup. Hope fluttered in my chest. Because my mate was interacting with me. From a distance, behind a wall, but still, it counted for something.
And when we walked back to our tent that night, I even managed to hold her hand.