Chapter 52
Maelsar and I stood shoulder to shoulder as we watched the latest battalion descend from the sky in a flurry of feathers. They speared toward us, the formation tight with a singular figure flying far ahead. Polished armor hugged his frame, flicks of white leaking out even as he sailed toward us.
A chill swept through me as my eyes locked on a male with wavy alabaster hair peeking out from beneath a plumed helmet.
Zahal Ishim.
“Fuck,” Maelsar swore under his breath. “Lyr, you need to leave.”
“Why?” she asked, flicking her braid over her shoulder.
“Because Ishim can’t see you at my side,” he rasped, torture pinching his brows.
She raked her teeth over her bottom lip, then shoved her stack of drawings into his chest. “Fine. I’ll go find Isra while Sylaira is resting.” She spun on her heel and stalked away, disappearing into the throng gathered to greet the new arrivals.
“Once this is all over and I’m on the throne, this will all have been worth it,” I assured Maelsar as he watched his intended go.
He blew out a long breath and faced forward again. “It better.”
The Angel slowed his descent, feet stretching toward the ground. Rocks skittered as he landed, like even they didn’t want to be beneath his heel. His wings snapped shut behind him, and he slowed to a halt an arm’s length in front of us.
Far too close for my comfort. My fingers twitched toward the dagger on my thigh. In the light of day, the twin colors of my eyes were impossible to hide. As was the darkening shade of my hair. I was ill-prepared to greet the Zahal.
Ishim pulled the helm off and tucked it under his arm. Icy blue irises glittered with the type of fanaticism that now set my teeth on edge.
How had I ever fallen for its allure before?
His heavy regard swept over me, lingering on my face. The slight curve of his lips told me that he knew. I only hoped he wouldn’t speak it aloud in front of the soldiers landing at his back.
“Issaraeth, we meet again.”
My heart thundered against my sternum as I tried to gather myself. “Ishim, I wasn’t expecting you for a few more days.”
His expression darkened at my informal address. “There are plenty of Myrza to ensure the rest of the army makes the journey. I needed to speak to you.”
Dread coiled in my gut. “Regarding?”
“Your mate. I want a full account of the prophecy, from her lips.” As we’d expected, Sylaira was too tempting for him to ignore.
His attention flicked to Maelsar. “I sent your brother off to slaughter those beasts in Fured. He’ll be celebrated upon his return.”
Maelsar bent at the waist, his hooked thumbs rising to his forehead. “Of course, Zahal. House Caerelith is honored to be considered for such an important mission.”
“Have you heard from Myrza Saethir?” I asked, switching to a more formal address now that I’d recovered from my shock.
“Not yet but I expect word of their victory imminently.” He strode forward without any further explanation. “Now, take me to your mate. I’d also like some food and wine.”
“Most holy Zahal, I’m afraid she’s resting at the moment,” I explained, keeping my expression neutral.
Ishim walked past me like he didn’t care. “Wake her.”
His heartbeat thrummed in my ears. I smacked the blood magic away and chased after him, leaving Maelsar to deal with the soldiers.
“She had a vision not long before your arrival. They tend to tire her.”
Ishim grinned, flashing his white teeth, highlighted by the fresh tan on his skin. “Ah, how blessed you are to have such a mate. Pray tell, how did you find her?” He gripped my shoulder, squeezing it harder than necessary. It was only by sheer force of will that I didn’t rip his hand off of me.
“I hunted her.” I shrugged him off, gesturing for him to walk ahead of me toward the command building. Because as my superior officer, he was supposed to lead.
Each step behind him, I glared daggers into his back.
Angels paused in their duties as we passed, shouting out for their Zahal. Ishim waved to them, soaking in the attention his position offered. “You there,” he pointed to a Bassi Maelsar and I had spent hours trying to sway to our side.
She straightened, tucking her hands behind her lower back. “Yes, sir?”
“Tell your Padisa their presence is required tonight. As is yours. We will have a feast, all the officers in residence,” he pronounced, like he had any idea of our store numbers.
The Bassi saluted him as he continued on.
“Now, where were we? Ah, yes, you were telling me more about how you found your mate.”
My nostrils flared as I lengthened my strides to catch up with him. “I captured her along with the heir to House Ilythar? and his wife.”
We stopped outside the entry to the four-story building. I shifted into the shade, hoping that would hide my lavender iris.
The Zahal studied the stone, then turned toward the valley, where tents stretched onto the road leading to Hals?r and beyond. “Why do you have them so far away? Surely more could staff the wall and ensure our safe passage.”
I flexed my fingers, trying to calm myself. I’d forgotten how insufferable Ishim was. Maelsar was lucky all he had to do was arrange the movement of the battalion. “We have more resources here.”
“So you did receive my letters and follow instructions. Though I shouldn’t have doubted your commitment to your duty,” he purred, tucking his hair behind his ears, revealing the rings pierced along the outer shells.
His head tilted ever so slightly to the side, gaze sweeping over me. “Something is different with you.”
Fuck. He was going to say something.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Ishim leaned closer, and I remained preternaturally still, keeping the cool mask of the Issaraeth in place. “Your eye…”
“Well, you know my coloring has always been strange for an Angel,” I said dismissively, gesturing to my hair, and hoping that our time apart would make him think it had always been this dark.
Luminous threads spilled from his palms, and I shuddered as they wrapped around me. The press of his Hive in my mind itched, like a thousand bees had taken residence. My limbs moved without my consent, bringing me back into the light.
Silence reigned between us, even as soldiers bustled about in my periphery. I didn’t dare look at them, and they kept their attention pointedly elsewhere.
“Perhaps your lack of access to your magic has also had an effect?”
His Hive fell away, the relief immediate and disorienting. I resisted the urge to scrub at my temples and ensure he’d removed himself entirely from my head.
So the crown had told him of my punishment. Which meant every Command I’d used since removing the bronze threads could make it back to him now that the groups were reunited. And what would he do when he discovered our treachery?
“Perhaps,” I replied, holding back the violence that I wanted to unleash. To protect myself. To protect my mate.
“It’s a pity you had to anger Stadiel and our Radiant Mother so thoroughly. Though I suppose if your mate Saw us winning without your magic, we wouldn’t need it on the battlefield.”
He leaned back, but I did not relax. That wasn’t the lie Sylaira had offered my sister and her husband—she’d told them she Saw me Command a thousand Demons. I didn’t know whether they didn’t believe her or had conveyed a different message to Ishim.
“I trust Her divine judgment,” I said, the words bitter across my tongue. It hadn’t been Her will—not in the slightest—that had caused my skin to be threaded with bronze.
But I didn’t dare tell that to the Zahal. He believed what his monarchs said—what my mate said. And I had to ensure she could remain the mouthpiece, the puppeteer of the male whose Hive power controlled the minds of the living.
Which meant I needed her here. Now.
“Ishim is here. He knows.”
“What do you mean?”
“He at least suspects something is different with me. Can you come downstairs? With you here, he won’t pay attention to me.”
“Whatever you need.”
Her solemn promise was a balm to my soul. I sensed her rising and dressing, moving closer to me. I pressed open the entry to the command building, not waiting for Ishim to interrogate me further.
To a passing grunt, I said, “Fetch your Zahal a meal.”
He offered us both a salute before hurrying off. I strode into my office, straight to the desk, and tidied up the papers there.
Thank the Goddess we hadn’t written any of our plans down. Yet among them were tells—diverted supplies, musings of locations for the battle, and a list of warriors who needed personal visits from Maelsar or me to reaffirm their loyalty.
“My mate will be here momentarily,” I told him, shoving the information into a drawer before he could peek at it.
A servant brought the Zahal a plate, and Ishim reveled in the bowing and scraping offered to him. He tore into a roll, his gaze settling heavily over me. “You know, your sister has been writing too.”
I froze, body going cold. “And?”
“She mentioned that I should look out for two individuals who were supposed to be reporting back to her,” he said, his tone measured and dripping with suspicion.
“Ah, yes. Althirion and Nymirae were their names,” I replied like they meant nothing. Because if he suspected that I’d killed them…he’d report to Iaoth immediately. There was no trusting him—only manipulation.
“Were?” He paused with the bread halfway to his mouth.
“Unfortunately we lost many during our attempt to take hold of the wall. Their deaths were rather tragic, as we’d grown to expect their constant presence.”
Ishim chewed, his scrutiny hot enough to burn. “I see.” I sensed he was withholding, testing me to see if I would crack under the pressure and reveal that which he already knew.
Sylaira chose that moment to enter and break our standoff. He spun toward the opening door like a predator toward its prey, going utterly still.