Chapter 39
Thunderclouds gathered outside the windows of the library as I pulled a map of Keleti down from the wall and spread it across a massive reading table. Maelsar tossed marker stones across the parchment, and together, we arranged them based on a letter we’d received not an hour before from Ishim.
“Oshenai is on his way, so we need to make this quick,” I told him.
“Where are Sylaira and Lyriasthe?” he asked, dragging chairs closer.
I tapped into our bond, sensing her approaching. A heartbeat later, the scent of baked apples curled in my nostrils. Maelsar let out a groan when the females entered, plates of Mayyal’s pie in hand.
“Can we bring her with us?” he asked me, snatching one from Lyriasthe.
Sylaira handed me mine, and I pressed a kiss to her cheek. “There’s no way she could make enough for the battalion. We’d have fights among the ranks over dessert.”
Maelsar snorted and shook his head at the image. He couldn’t deny the truth in my words. Instead, he forked a gooey piece. “So are we still planning a three-pronged front?”
The four of us had spoken at length over a late breakfast, revealing all the information we’d been keeping close. With the air between us clear, we had to plan a way forward.
“With how often I’ve Seen it, I think we need to position ourselves there,” my mate added, dropping into a seat and balancing her plate on her lap.
“So, how do we not die?” Lyriasthe huffed, glaring at the Skala Mountains. “Or did we forget that at the end of Sylaira’s prophecy, there has to be some sacrifice while Sivy burns?”
A bolt of purple lightning flashed through the sky, casting the map in sharp relief. The accompanying boom of thunder shook the bookcases.
Sacrifice.
The word had haunted me since Sylaira’s reveal.
What could it possibly mean?
“If we have to sacrifice Iaoth and Stadiel, I wouldn’t be opposed,” Maelsar snorted, licking his silverware clean.
A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. “That would be the ideal solution.”
Yet something told me it would be something far more complicated than that. There would be a true cost, a risk so great that we’d have to weigh its worth.
“Lyriasthe does have a point though.” Maelsar’s fingers tightened over his utensil. “Meeting the Demons in the mountains always leads to them overrunning Sivy. That won’t help us reach peace.”
“She hasn’t offered me another way,” Sylaira pointed out.
“So why don’t we do the exact opposite?” he challenged.
“Because Sylaira was very clear about her vision and Iaoth and Stadiel would grow suspicious if we suddenly changed plans,” I explained, taking a bite of my pie.
Maelsar grumbled something under his breath but didn’t say anything else.
“What if the sacrifice is one of us?” Lyriasthe whispered, her face ashen as she looked to her intended. She hadn’t touched her dessert yet.
He lifted it from her hands and placed it on the table. Then, he threaded his fingers through hers. “I won’t let that happen.”
Yet he couldn’t promise that. Nor could I to Sylaira. Nor could she to me.
“If that is the price for peace, then I will take it upon myself. No one else needs to suffer,” Sylaira said, determination hot in her tone.
The words punched all air from my lungs. Our bond thrashed, like it would rip out of our chests and shield us from the possibility.
“No.” The word snapped out of me, and I dropped my half-eaten dessert on the table. All three whipped their heads in my direction.
I planted my palms on the smooth wood, rage roaring in my veins.
“I am the fucking Issaraeth. If the Goddess wishes to take my family from me, She can fucking try. But I’ll find a portal into Her dimension and slaughter Her myself before that happens.
” My chest heaved from the force of my promise.
But it was true. None of them deserved to die.
Nor did I. We weren’t going to stand by and let some battle between the Gods of the Angels and Demons dictate our fates.
Maelsar offered me a bloodthirsty grin. “You know I’ll be right there with you.”
“Good.” I turned to my mate. “Focus your power on the cost of peace. We need to know any possibility, even if it is changing, so we can prepare.”
She gave a firm nod, then returned to eating. We all needed the additional sustenance. Once we left Eloi, we’d return to rations and gruel. Lyriasthe took a seat beside her, the two falling quiet as they finished their food.
“So we know the Demons have retreated to fetch their most powerful.” I circled the table, moving more marker stones to the opposite coast. “Based on what you told me, I think there was a battle at Fured, their military academy.”
“That would make sense,” Maelsar added, rubbing his jaw. “But why?”
“Ishim must have sent a contingent there for a reason. But he didn’t mention that he had in yesterday’s letter.” I snatched the note, scanning it again to ensure I hadn’t missed something.
“What if it’s because we haven’t told him to yet?” Sylaira asked around a mouthful of food.
Pride bloomed beneath my ribs. My little fugitive was participating in our planning, even though she knew it would lead to death. How she’d changed from the female I’d first captured.
But Lyriasthe shook her head. “What would be the purpose though?”
“Because their most powerful are at their academy. And if Sylaira’s visions are correct, there are females among their ranks now.” Maelsar tossed a few more marker stones in Fured’s direction.
Thunder rumbled overhead, ominous and omniscient. Sylaira lifted her gaze to the fresco-covered ceiling like she could peer past the clouds and speak directly with our deity.
Dread sank into my gut like a swallowed stone. “But how many? If it’s a few thousand, we can manage. If it’s tens of thousands?” I raked a hand through my now-clean hair, letting out a sigh. “There’s no time to conscript more soldiers.”
“What if the Goddess showed Sylaira that so we could equalize our numbers again? If Ishim sent a few battalions there, they could prevent many Demons from returning to the front,” I offered.
“The Halálhívó was there, right?” Maelsar questioned my mate.
Sylaira lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “The vision from Fured was focused on his mate. It was a brutal fight, though.”
“What about in your prophecy?” I asked her.
She stuck her tongue in her cheek, staring out at the storm like the answer waited beside the churning lake. “I don’t think so. But how would the Demons overrun Sivy without him, if he’s as powerful as you say?”
“I don’t think they could. But Ishim doesn’t know that. He will act on your information simply because he’s a true believer,” I said.
Maelsar snorted. “If he’ll give up his claim to the Halálhívó’s death.”
“He really fucking needs to at this point,” I groused, pinching my brow.
With the opportunity Zaph had, with the potential overrun of their military academy, someone could pin him down and kill him.
Without a leader for their army, the Demons would crumple.
But Ishim held grudges longer than anyone I’d ever met.
To our forces’ detriment.
Maelsar straightened, flicking off items on his fingers.
“First, we need to convince Ishim to send battalions to Fured. Second, we need to clear the Demons away from Hals?r. Third, we have to kill Ishim at some point without alerting Iaoth and Stadiel to his death so we can take command of the army. Did I miss anything?”
Silence stretched between us. All of this was treason. All of this was risky. If any portion of it went awry, we were fucked.
Another fork of lightning split the sky.
“Our kill list is getting pretty long, Vaeron.” Maelsar dropped into one of the seats on the Demon side of the map, accompanied by a rumble of thunder.
“Althirion, Nymirae, Calrien, Iaoth, Stadiel, the High Priestess, Ishim…” I named all the people who needed to die for the regime to change. “We’ve had worse odds.”
“Does Nymirae really have to die?” Lyriasthe challenged, crossing her arms.
Sylaira hummed her agreement. “Her mate is in trouble. She’s only acting this way to protect her. Her hands are tied. You of all people should understand that.”
A growl rose and died in my chest. Because I could. But Nymirae had tormented my mate, and that I would not stand for. She wanted to play the game of power without the consequences. No one had that luxury.
“I’ll take it into consideration,” I eventually said.
Maelsar raised a brow like he didn’t believe me. I shrugged my response.
Rain lashed the windows, and I crossed to them, peering into the mist. Hopefully, the storm would slow the chieftain’s arrival.
“What do we do about Oshenai?” I asked, absently rubbing the wound on my chest. The potions the healer had given me had sealed it completely, leaving only mangled flesh behind.
It had also restored much of my magic well—though filling it completely after such a long depletion would take more nights of long, solid sleeping.
“If we tell him the truth, he could turn straight to Stadiel. But I get the sense that he isn’t as loyal to the crown as he is to our Radiant Mother.” Maelsar braced his forearm on the window, squinting into the distance with me.
“Didn’t you say that the Hatha Islands have always tried to maintain their independence?” Sylaira asked.
I turned to face her again, back braced against the cool glass.
“They have.”
She leaned toward the northernmost part of the map, studying the archipelago. “When you were dying, I told him that Stadiel had been the one to thread you with bronze. He was appalled. I think we should tell him about the Seers too. The whole truth.”
“We need him on our side,” I said. But thunder clapped, swallowing my reply. I returned to the table so I didn’t have to yell as the tempest thrashed. Maelsar joined me, piling the plates away from the map.
“He could aid us in influencing Ishim, with their shared devotion to the Goddess. And in solidifying the new order, his support would be a massive boon,” I said.