Chapter 42
Agroup of farmers gathered in front of me, their horses tethered at the hitching post a short distance away. These were supposed to be my people, the ones I looked out for, and yet here I was, about to force them to hand over all of their harvest.
Guilt gnawed in my gut. Yet the army had to be fed, and my sister and Stadiel had left me with few other options.
I opened my mouth to speak, but the sound of a door opening caught my attention. Glancing behind me, I found Sylaira emerging from within the manor, a light blue dress hugging her lithe frame.
I could only blink at her. I hadn’t asked her to stand with me. In fact, I specifically hadn’t told her what I was doing because I didn’t want them to mob her.
And yet, here she was, eyes locked on me and gliding forward with defiant confidence.
She took her place on my right, hands clasped in front of her.
Her expression was easy, almost comforting.
The group stared at her, one male even removing his hat and holding it over his heart.
He whispered a prayer to the sky before placing it on his head again.
I raked a hand through my hair, blowing out a long breath as I gathered myself again. “Thank you all for coming. I know it is not easy for you to leave your land at this time of the year.”
A weathered female nodded, her arms crossed firmly over her chest. “It has been some time since you’ve been here, Herr.”
“I’ve had other…duties that have kept me away.”
“We know,” a male who’d been ancient when I was a youngling said, his voice rough from millennia of shouting at workers in the fields. “You’re lucky we’re all still here after the Demons stormed through a year ago.”
A memory rose unbidden; I was a small child again, standing beside my father as he forced these same people to offer up twice-yearly tithes.
Would they think me any better than him after this?
“I’m sorry that I didn’t return to check on you all after we forced the invaders back into their realm. But I am here now. The reason I’ve gathered you all is because the end of the war is upon us. You won’t have to worry about them pillaging again.”
Their attention flicked to my mate.
“But these last ten years have been long. Our holy warriors are tired. They’ve been in the hostile Paks Desert for months and are in desperate need of supplies. I have been absent when you needed me, so I hope you won’t take offense when I say the army requires your help now more than ever.”
“What is it?” the female questioned. She’d long spoken for the group as a whole, and now was no different.
I kept my tone even as I spoke my request. “We need everything you’ve harvested so far. Plus most of your long-storing food.”
“Of course, we’re willing to sell it to you,” she said.
I glanced overhead before meeting her gaze again. “The crown has no coin for you.”
Silence reigned. Sylaira shifted toward me, her arm brushing mine. I snatched that small comfort to steady my next words. “I hope you will hand it over willingly. Otherwise, I have orders to take it by force.”
A few grunted their disgust. It wasn’t necessarily true, but it would help sway their opinions of their monarchs—I hoped.
“When our bond first solidified,” Sylaira started, shocking me by speaking at all, “your Herr told me that he does not force you to pay tithes. Even hiding from the crown, I knew how heavy a burden they could be to Angels. It was one of the things that swayed me to believe he was a good male.” She held my gaze, and I wanted to reach down and capture her lips with mine.
“I hope that reminder will encourage you to see what an opportunity this is to support the Angel cause.”
“Is it true?” the older male with the straw hat asked from the rear of the group.
“Is what true?” she said, rolling her shoulders back.
“That you Saw us winning.”
“Yes.” The lie rolled off her tongue with such ease.
It was no wonder that I believed it all those months.
Yet this time, with our connection wide open, I sensed the heavy cost to the falsity, the guilt that grabbed her insides.
“The Goddess speaks through me. Every day, she offers me a glimpse of the path she wishes for us to walk. Our army needs to be fed to have the strength for the final battle ahead.”
Murmurs drifted among the group. The female leader turned to another beside her, speaking behind their hands.
“Thank you,” I said to Sylaira as they discussed.
“Next time, find me. I may not want to be their savior, but I can use that sway to our advantage. Goddess knows we need every one we can get.”
The leader faced us again, and I straightened, readying for their rejection.
“We will give you everything we have. There is still plenty to harvest, and we will survive the winter on that.”
The cool mask remained in place even as shock coursed through me. I dipped my head to her. “The crown thanks you for your service.”
“Send your empty wagons to our storesheds and we will fill them,” she promised. “We appreciate your kindness toward us since becoming the head of house, Herr. Once this war is over, we hope to see more of you. Both of you.”
“You will,” Sylaira promised for us. A promise we likely couldn’t keep—not if we were the new rulers of the realm. But they didn’t know that. No one did outside of our small group.
“Goddess save you,” the farmers murmured, hooking their thumbs together and pressing their palms over their hearts.
“Go in peace,” Sylaira told them.
Only a few offered her wary looks at the traditional Elessarum goodbye.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m the Seraelth. What are Iaoth and Stadiel going to do, kill me? It doesn’t matter if anyone knows I was part of the organization.”
I captured her chin—that defiant chin—and forced her to look into my eyes. “Have I told you today that I love your storm?”
“No.” The smile she offered me could melt even the coldest of glaciers.
The farmers paid us no more heed, unhitching their horses and riding back to their lands. My mate was but a raindrop in their lives compared to the enormous task of feeding the realm.
“Maelsar and I need to go to the academy and arrange to pick up the crops. Can you tell him I need him when you go back inside?”
“Of course,” she said.
I leaned down, slanting my lips over hers. With a low moan, I captured her waist, bringing her body flush to mine. How I wanted to stay here and sink inside her. But I had to ensure that everything was taken care of so we could depart in the morning.
Reluctantly, I released her. “Go before I decide that leaving tomorrow isn’t more important than feeling you come undone.”
She huffed a laugh, backing into the shadows. Even they couldn’t steal the brightness in her eyes.
I signaled for one of the grooms to fetch our horses. He trotted off, leaving me alone in the drive that led to the estate.
A low hum tore my attention skyward. Squinting, I searched for the telltale flash of feathers in the sun. Ilae drifted down in a lazy circle, glittering like a polished diamond.
And around his leg was a scroll.
I raced to a nearby raised garden bed, and he landed there, flapping his massive wings. I reached for his leg, but he clicked his beak at me. “Fine,” I grumbled, giving the downy spot behind his antlers a good stroke before tearing off the parchment.
He protested again, but I’d have plenty of time to give him later, once I knew if our plan had worked.
Issaraeth,
I am pleased that our Radiant Mother continues to bless your mate with directions in Her war. As requested, I have gathered forces to march on Fured. The heir to House Caerelith will lead them, as his psionic power is uniquely positioned to disable such a strong magic-wielding force.
Scouts have been traversing the rough terrain along the highest ridges in search of the three fronts described in the Seraelth’s prophecy.
I let out a groan. Her fucking title had spread to the army already. Which meant that our arrival might be fraught with desperate soldiers terrified of dying and believing—much like the residents of Vyss—one touch from her would save them.
Others have been sneaking over in small groups near the outpost above Eloi so as to avoid detection by the Demons.
I’m still receiving reports of attacks during the process.
Your assistance in clearing a path for those who remain in the Demon Realm would be greatly appreciated.
I don’t suspect that they have realized yet how many of our forces have departed.
There have been no skirmishes in roughly two weeks.
As a reminder, we are running low on supplies. Please bring whatever you can.
Ishim, most holy Zahal, divine appointee of the Goddess
Maelsar sauntered up to us, his gaze landing on the note. He snatched the parchment from me and scanned it. “Fuck me. So Saethir is going to die?”
His brother was several centuries older than us, and we’d rarely interacted with him as younglings. He was always too busy with his duties as the heir to take much interest in his siblings. Besides the fact he was also a pompous prick and we wanted little to do with him anyway.
“I mean I never really liked him, but damn, I didn’t want him to die. And it’s my fault because it was our plan that sent him there.” Maelsar swiped a hand down his face, letting out a sigh.
“You’re going to get the position you always wanted,” I teased, trying to lighten his mood.
Maelsar pinned me with a glare. “Fuck you too, Vaeron. You know this means I can’t marry Lyriasthe now.”
“When I’m on the throne, I’ll make it happen,” I promised him.
“You say that like you believe you’re actually going to be the Koron,” Maelsar muttered.
“And you don’t?”
“It’s not that I don’t…fuck, so many things have to go exactly right. There are too many moving pieces, pawns that could fall off the board and completely throw off our plans. What if Sylaira Sees something new?”
He had a point, but I had to believe that we would figure it out. There was no other option. “This went right.”