Chapter 17
Athick, fast flowing river poured from the nearby mountains and spilled across the marshland.
Thick, soggy ground squelched beneath my feet as I forgaged and searched for a private, quiet spot where I wouldn’t be disturbed.
My hour with Nymirae and Althirion had flown by, and I’d snuck back out with Ysolthe at my side because that seemed to be the only way that the two would ever leave me alone.
She set off to hunt as I settled on the bank. I shoved a mushroom into my mouth and chewed.
What I told my keepers I Saw was never the truth. The crown may want to use me as a weapon for their war, but I would wield that blade as I saw fit. And right now, vengeance still danced in my veins.
So I focused my Sight on what I could do to stop this war.
I tipped my head up to the top of the maple tree behind me. The last rays of the sun flitted through the leaves. A breeze picked up, cooling my hot skin. Autumn was fast approaching, and green would soon give way to brilliant reds and golds.
The sway of the branches overhead lulled me, allowing me to fall into a trance. A slow blink took the leaves out of existence, replacing them with a cloudless blue sky.
My breath hitched, spine snapping straight. Black dotted my vision. Instead of fighting, flinching, fleeing—everything I wanted to do—I surrendered to the Goddess’s pull.
Ruby. Silver. Bronze.
The colors bled together in a grotesque painting across the desert. White sand stained brown from tens of thousands of boots and far too many broken bodies to count.
I spun, taking in my surroundings.
It was no place I’d ever been, for the Angel Realm had no vast expanses of flat, barren land. The most unnerving part was the stillness.
None of the fallen moved. Not even the wind dared grace the scorched earth with its presence. Over a slope, smoke trickled into the sky.
I flew in that direction, brows furrowed. Coughs clawed up my throat as the air thickened, like I was present in the future instead of witnessing it from the past.
Pyres dotted the landscape. I blinked, taking in the sheer number. Wagons lay broken, their wood chopped for the burning bodies instead.
But no one moved among them.
Something black snagged my attention, and I twisted, finding a hound trotting with a sled on its back. Dead piled onto it.
Dead Demons.
A female trailed him, nose scrunched up from the effort of dragging another broken body.
She glanced up at the sky like she was pleading for help from the Fates.
Burgundy eyes collided with mine. But she offered no indication of recognition, her focus passing through me like I was nothing more than a wispy cloud.
The edges grew fuzzy, and I shook my head, trying to See her more clearly. There was something off about this, about her, like instead of the future, I Saw something of the past.
Something important.
But darkness crept in no matter how hard I tried to hold onto the threads of my power.
With a gasp, my head snapped straight again. Flames flickered from torches set into the ground.
Because it was night now, and I had two stalkers staring at me. I wanted to scream, but instead, I pinned my attention on the light, grounding myself through the lashes of fire.
“What did you See?” Althirion pressed. “It is a good thing we found you when you did. You might have been washed down the river otherwise.”
I ignored him in favor of controlling the race of my heart. Somehow, they’d followed me when I’d worked so hard on covering my tracks.
Where had my friends been? Why hadn’t they stopped them at the edge of the camp?
“Sylaira?” Nymirae prompted, reaching for my leg.
I smacked her hand away before she could touch me.
She wasn’t my fucking friend. Even when I’d come back screaming two days ago, I hadn’t let either one close, throwing up a shield of white instead.
Lyriasthe was the only one I’d allow to comfort me.
Like my mother had when I snapped into my power so young.
Nor did I call for my mate, though I felt him there, waiting on the other side of the barrier I wasn’t ready to lower.
“Your presence pulled me out of the vision,” I ground out, glaring at the two of them. “I don’t remember much now.”
A lie, but I wasn’t giving them any more than I already had.
It was weird, though. Like something had already happened, and I merely witnessed the aftermath.
Because every other vision had been of the Demons overrunning us in the depths of winter.
So why would I See the opposite in the midst of summer?
And who was that female among the countless dead males? Why did the Goddess show me the grief of our supposed enemies, rather than the destruction of us?
“What do you recall?” Althirion asked.
“A battle…” I trailed off, an idea sparking. “Do you know how the war began?”
“Of course,” he replied, brow furrowing. “Do you not?”
“Remind me,” I sighed, rubbing the heels of my palms into my eyes.
“A faction of our holy warriors attacked a wayward group of Demons come to raze our realm. They killed all the beasts, save for one. The Halálhívó.” He shuddered at the mere mention of the Demon army’s leader.
“He wielded his unholy, evil magic and slaughtered the remaining forces, leaving only one Padisa alive to speak of the declaration of war.”
That was the crown’s official version; yet every Elessarum knew that the antagonizing—on both sides—had begun long before that moment.
I mulled over his words until I’d made a malleable lie of my own. “What I Saw was similar. Angel and Demon bodies in the desert. It was a three in clarity.”
Nymirae’s lips thinned. “Only a three?”
I arched a brow in her direction. “Have I not provided you enough already today? These past weeks? After Seeing the end of the war before that?”
“Well, yes–”
“Then I think the Goddess is allowed to show me less certainty. Unless you don’t trust Her judgment?” I said, my voice low and threaded with a taunt.
My keeper dipped her head. “Of course, Sylaira. We fight in Her name. Goddess save you.”
“It’s Herra R?viel,” I said, rising and wiping my sweat-slick palms on my leggings.
“Now, I’ve expended enough energy and I would like to eat.
” I didn’t wait for them to follow me. My long legs ate up the ground back to the camp, where torches already flickered to life with the darkness falling earlier each evening.
I itched to find a quiet place—without the two shadows—and dance. Frustration clawed at my shoulders, while heartache still lingered behind my ribs. The Issaraeth and I had shared a tent since I confronted him about his beliefs, but we hadn’t touched again.
It was so stupid of me to fuck him then. Hate and love. They mixed together like a toxic potion, one I was too addicted to quit, despite the pain that awaited me.
Glancing over my shoulder, I found Althirion and Nymirae scrambling to pack up the little nest they created while I was floating above the future. Both had their backs to me.
Hope starleaped in my chest. It would be a risk to ditch them, since they’d likely inform Iaoth the second they realized I was gone. But the weight of everything was too much to bear.
So I snatched the opportunity to slip away, darting between two vibrant purple heathers.
Squinting, I eased forward on light feet, seeking the scrub that might dare to trip me. No twigs cracked and betrayed my position. Somehow, I managed to find a nook at the base of a rowan tree.
“Where did she go?” Nymirae’s voice cut through the night.
A grin broke out on my face.
“Weren’t you looking at her?” Althirion snapped.
“I was, and she was walking this way!” Nymirae protested.
“Come on, she can’t have gotten far. The Korona is already displeased that she’s sleeping with him again. He makes it impossible to get close enough to her,” Althirion grumbled, his heavy cadence fading as they trekked a path away from me.
If it was pissing Iaoth off for me to be so close to her brother, that was incentive enough for me to continue to share the Issaraeth’s space.
A hum filled the air overhead, and I looked up, finding Ysolthe gliding toward me. She flapped her crystalline wings, landing on a branch a short distance away. In the dark, she glowed a ghostly outline.
“Hey girl,” I cooed, approaching. She clicked her beak, head tilting to the side. An image of tonight’s dinner appeared in my mind, along with what felt like a question.
“Not yet. I want to dance first,” I told her.
Ysolthe ruffled her razor-sharp feathers. Get on with it then.
I reached up and stroked the downy spot behind her antlers. “You keep watch for me. Let me know if someone is coming.”
She blinked as I stepped back and cast ribbons of white above me to light the marshy ground.
Taking a quick perusal, I noted the spots that were too soft and padded with grasses to be safe for my practice.
There was more than enough space, thankfully, and I would be able to make big movements and rid myself of the emotions that lingered in my bones.
I kicked off my boots, not caring that my feet would be dirty once I was done.
Dragging in a deep breath, I perched on my toes, arms sweeping in slow wingbeats to warm up.
A melody rose from my memories, and I lifted one leg behind me until I held the arc shape.
With the next silent beat, I twisted, the elevated foot digging into the ground for the briefest of moments before I kicked both legs out.
And then, I was off.
One starleap took me back to Ysolthe. A spiral propelled me into the next airstep. I glided across the clearing like it was a stage. Notes rose and fell in my mind as I danced to a tune only I could hear.
The glade fell away as I lost myself to the movements. Sorrow slipped away with each flick of my wrists. Frustration ebbed with each powerful spiral.
The crescendo hit, sending me racing from one edge to another in a series of complex bounds. By the time I hit the opposite side, my knee ached from the exertion.
But I felt like I could breathe for the first time in weeks.
Reverent applause shattered the silence.
I spun, finding the Issaraeth standing there, watching me. The possession in his eyes rolled a cold shiver down my spine, mixing with the hot perspiration.
“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured, shoving off the tree. “The way your body arcs is perfection.”
I remained still, like prey watching her predator approach.
“How long were you there?” I whispered.
“Not long enough,” he crooned, his fingers ghosting across my skin and tucking a silvery strand of hair behind my ear. “Next time, tell me before you dance.”
My breath hitched as he tilted my chin up, sparks shooting across my skin from where he touched me. “I don’t think you deserve to watch an entire set.”
“I definitely do not. But I will all the same. Because when it comes to you, I cannot stay away.”
“Even if I want you to?”
“Especially because you want me to.”
I found myself rising to my tiptoes again, lashes caressing my cheeks. Our mouths met, heat and hate and hunger all braiding together.
I should have pulled away. I should have shoved his hands down when they captured my waist.
But I didn’t. Because no matter how hard I tried to draw lines between us, we always blurred them.
He backed me into a tree, the rough bark scraping my bare skin. In that space, where his large body framed mine, hid me from the world, I felt safe.
And I loathed that he alone offered me that solace.
His hardness dug into my stomach, but he only ravished me with teeth and tongue until I was dizzy and drunk with lust. With one final nip at my lower lip, he released me, black eclipsing ice, eyes half-lidded.
“We should return before we’re missed,” he murmured.
“Nymirae and Althirion were already looking for me,” I sighed, tipping my head back against the tree. As much as my mate had hurt me, I’d much rather escape into the woods with him than be among the ranks, those two haunting my every step.
The Issaraeth was currently the lesser of two evils.
“I know. I saw them racing around camp, frantically peeking into every passing tent. Much to the dismay of some soldiers.” The corner of his mouth twitched up.
I pressed my lips together to smother a laugh at their expense. But then I let it burst free anyway. They deserved my ire and my disdain. If they ran around looking like fools? Even better.
My mate shoved off the trunk, his strong arms flexing. Goddess, his body should be the gravest sin—not power sharing or violence in a holy temple.
Pain twinged our bond, but his face remained impassive as he turned back toward the distant flames.
“Is it bothering you?” I asked, banishing the lights that had guided my dance.
Twin glows drifted overhead as Ilae and Ysolthe followed us.
“No,” he replied, his focus strained straight ahead.
“Now who is the liar?” I teased.
He merely sighed and shook his head. “It is my burden to bear. Don’t worry yourself with it.”
The defeat in his tone made my heart ache. As complex as my feelings toward him were, I wanted his sister and her husband to fall for what they did—to Heraphia, to me, and to him.
To the Issaraeth, his Command was his identity. I’d thought that by our mating bond snapping into place, I’d lose all sense of who I was.
Instead, I’d found my true purpose.
At the cost of him losing the most important piece of him.
So as my keepers found us again, their gazes sharp with suspicion, I added a new vow to myself.
Someday, I’d free his magic too.