Chapter 29
Three days of a relentless march had Eloi on the horizon at last. The lake glittered in the early morning sun, curving toward the distant ocean.
House R?viel’s manor rose from across its waters, a silent sentry watching over the svaethi.
Opposite it, on the closer shore, the military academy waited.
The hive of activity was hard to miss, even at this distance.
While the ranks at my back had grown loyal to me in our time on the road, these new recruits were likely more loyal to the crown and the Goddess—if they were happy to be here at all.
Those who were not would be easier to peel away from the indoctrination.
Sylaira stiffened beside me. “There are so many.”
“Put your hood up now and fall back with Lyriasthe. I need to test their convictions before they see you. We will not have a repeat of Vyss.”
I fucking hoped. They had to already know of the slaughter that had left a sea of bodies strewn through the streets.
Would they fear me more because of it?
I couldn’t decide if it would help or hurt my cause.
She nodded, doing as I bid. The two females drifted off to one side, others on horseback curving around them. I pierced Nymirae and Althirion, who haunted their movements, with a glare.
Thank fuck neither had seen what happened with Helene. I was able to pass off the story that I’d killed her in retaliation. Not that Iaoth had been happy when they relayed that to her too—in addition to those who had perished under mysterious circumstances.
But I no longer cared. We were far, far from Sivy. She couldn’t reach us quickly. Nor could Stadiel reach Ishim, who was still holding the front in the Demon Realm, with any great speed. The last of his mated pairs connecting him to the capital had been killed.
People stopped what they were doing and stared as Maelsar and I rode up to the fortress, leaving the rest of our battalion behind.
Anxiety gathered like stormclouds along our bond.
Since Vyss, Sylaira had left more of herself open.
Whether it was my unconditional acceptance of her or that she sought comfort in me, I wasn’t certain.
I welcomed it either way.
Twin doors rumbled open, and from within, a tall, broad male emerged. His dark skin gleamed with a sheen of sweat, and sand-white hair tumbled in thick locks down his back.
We pulled our horses to a stop, and he swept into a bow. “Issaraeth, we have been expecting you.” His voice was deep and rich, rolling over everyone around him. His aquamarine eyes lifted to meet mine. “I am Oshenai, Chieftain of the Hatha Islands.”
My brows nearly shot up my forehead. The archipelago off the northernmost coast normally refused to entertain mainland politics. The previous Angel Koron had stripped the land of all titles and riches for their sustained disobedience.
I dipped my head in turn. “Oshenai, your reputation precedes you.”
And it did. The Hathi were known as fierce warriors with ruthless determination.
Which was why they’d been able to hold off Stadiel and many others who sought to exploit them.
Vantage points on the island closest to the mainland offered them ample opportunity to arm themselves should anyone unwanted approach.
“As it should,” he grinned, and I found myself mirroring his expression.
“Why are you here?” After all this time, I’d forgone the idea of the islanders joining the holy war—let alone their chieftain.
“Ah, that we should discuss later,” he said, glancing around him. At least a dozen others with wild white hair and complexions that spoke of decades on the sea hung on the fringes of our conversation. “Come, you’ve had a long journey. I’ll send my nephews to assist in settling your group in.”
“Ride forward with Lyriasthe, but keep your hood up,” I told Sylaira.
“Coming,” was her clipped reply.
Maelsar and I slid from our horses while Oshenai spoke with two males off to one side.
“Well, he certainly wasn’t who I was expecting to see here,” Maelsar muttered under his breath, head leaned close to my ear.
Neither of us had met the male before. The last time an emissary had been sent from Hatha to Sivy was shortly after Stadiel’s ascension, in fact. “Nor I. But I think the Goddess has offered us an ally.”
“What makes you say that?” Maelsar questioned.
“Because I don’t think he has any loyalty for Iaoth and Stadiel. If we can convince him to ally with us, for his people to back us once we kill them, no one will stand against us.”
“Let’s find out why he’s actually here first,” Maelsar cautioned.
I nodded, a tug on my sternum spinning me around. Sylaira emerged from the crowd, her mare tossing her mane. Ice-blue irises pierced me from under her hood.
With an easy grace, she dismounted, and the females followed us into the inner walls of the academy.
It was odd, being here after so long away. The twists and turns to the stables were as familiar as my own hand. Yet the fortress crawled with those who had never swung a sword before. Young faces peeked around corners, wary and warning.
Their terrified whispers reached my ears as we passed them.
“...killed them all.”
“...don’t want to be on his bad side…”
“What if he notices me? Or the Seraelth Sees my death?”
Dragging in a breath, I tried my best to ignore them. Yet the dissonance weighed on me. The divide between the southern recruits and northern ones would have to be carefully bridged. I’d done it once before; I could do it again.
“Will you stay here or at your manor, Issaraeth?” Oshenai asked me, drawing me out of my plotting and planning.
“My manor. It appears every bed is taken here.”
“And more,” he chuckled, ducking into the officer’s quarters.
Sylaira shivered as the cool stone hid us from the outside world. Autumn was colder in the north, and the lake often chilled temperatures further, especially on a windy day.
The five of us settled into a sitting area, and Oshenai called for hot drinks.
“It seems like you’ve made yourself at home,” I commented, crossing an ankle over my knee and resting my arms across the back of a sofa. My thumb stroked Sylaira’s shoulder, as much assurance for me that she was still there and breathing as it was for her.
He grinned again, choosing a seat across from me. Maelsar and Lyriasthe framed our sides.
“I sense that you have many questions about my presence.”
“We do.”
A servant appeared with five mugs, passing them to each of us. I set mine on the table beside me, my focus still on the chieftain. He waited until they’d gone before speaking again.
“Soldiers came with traders to my island,” he began, taking a long drink. “They explained that there had been a sign from our Radiant Mother that the end of the war drew near.”
Sylaira stiffened. There was no other female who would be by my side, and yet he hadn’t given any indication of fanatic infatuation with her. That didn’t mean he wasn’t moments from prostrating himself before her and begging for her touch.
My hand tightened on her shoulder.
“Our adherence to our religion is far superior to those of you mainlanders. It hasn’t been diluted by power or the relentless temptations you face,” Oshenai chided, though he maintained that peaceful, easygoing presence.
Most Hathi still held some of the old beliefs too—but only the strictest interpretations of them.
“However, that very day, I’d received a message of my own,” he continued.
I cocked my head to the side. “Are you a Seer?”
“No,” he replied quickly. Too quickly. But I didn’t have time to call him on it. “On my island, I am known as the Deepseeker because I can retrieve my spears from great distances. Never have to worry about losing my weapons to the waves.”
So he was a Telekinetic, then.
“But the tides had shifted. For the first time in a decade, they did not rise to cover the rocks on our southern shore. Our warriors were unable to prevent the soldier-carrying ships from rounding into the bay. And I knew She wanted me to hear their message.”
“So you followed them back?” I clarified.
“Aye, and with many of our mightiest fighters. I gave my people one week to decide and gather themselves. Then we set off in our boats. Along the way, we picked up more heading south. By the time we reached here, the Hathi Angels had spoken so highly of me, everyone defaulted to my leadership.”
“I see,” I commented, taking a sip of the drink at last. Warm, seasoned apple washed over my tongue, along with a hint of bitterness. It tasted like home. Like centuries long past.
“I mean no imposition, Issaraeth,” he continued. “Now that you have arrived, I of course will defer to you.”
I studied him, weighing his honesty and sincerity. In the few minutes we’d spoken, I understood why people followed him. He bled calm and exuded warmth.
“I’ll need a detailed account of everyone present at this time and what supplies we have to bring to the front. Zahal Ishim has written multiple times requesting healing potions and food.”
“You mentioned your nephews,” Maelsar added, leaning in. “Do the people respect them as they respect you?”
“Certainly. And I have already taken inventory in preparation for your arrival. Though we still have a few things to itemize. We weren’t expecting you for another day or two, after…” Oshenai trailed off, clearing his throat.
“Vyss?” I asked, quirking a brow.
“Yes,” he admitted, dropping his gaze to his hands. “The news of that particular event was, ah, concerning.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t greet us at knife point then,” I replied, my tone cold.
He picked his head up, glancing at each of us in turn. “My belief in the Goddess is steadfast. If She wants me here, whether to fight or to die under your power, so be it.”
My mind tumbled over everything he’d said, calculating the chances of convincing him to curve toward our cause.
Clearly, his beliefs ruled everything, and in a far purer way than whatever Iaoth and Stadiel preached.
If we could only convince him that regicide was what She intended, all our plans would work out.
My attention flickered to Sylaira.