Chapter 52 #2
Without glancing at Ishim, she glided toward me, standing on tiptoes to press a kiss to my cheek.
The Zahal didn’t blink as he swept his gaze from her dark boots, over her white leathers, to the fur peeking out of her collar.
The monster inside me wanted to gnash its teeth in Ishim’s direction for daring to drink in my mate like he owned her.
I captured her waist and tucked her into my side.
“Most holy Zahal,” Sylaira said, her melodic voice rolling over his title. Only I had the luxury of tasting the disdain dripping between the notes.
“Seraelth,” he breathed, setting his plate to the side and stepping closer.
I gritted my teeth and allowed him to extend his hand. She offered hers, and he lifted it to his mouth. He remained like that, chest inflating, for far too long. Discomfort drifted down our bond. My fingers tightened on Sylaira’s hip in possession and protection.
The grin that graced the Zahal’s face was anything but friendly when he finally released her. “You are even more stunning than I pictured. The Goddess’s chosen. Her flesh and blood walking this earth. I’d wondered, late at night, if you were truly real.”
Rage stormed on Sylaira’s side of the bond, but she kept her expression serene.
“I am a lucky male,” I managed to get out rather than punching him in the face.
“Indeed.” He kept his attention on Sylaira, tongue flicking out for a slow lick of his lips. “Now, I am here because I need to hear every detail of your visions of late. I understand you had one this morning?”
“Our Radiant Mother blesses me,” Sylaira said, clasping her hands in front of her. The Zahal didn’t see how her nails bit into her flesh. “The most important one I’ve ever had was my prophecy before we departed Sivy.”
“Tell me, Seraelth, exactly what you Saw,” he purred, picking up his plate again and tearing into slices of cured meat.
“The battle spread out along the spine of Keleti, concentrated in three fronts–”
“And you’ve only Seen three fronts since? Never one or two?” he interrupted.
“Only the three. However–”
The Zahal made a noise of disgust low in his throat. “The number of the Fates. Of course they’d weave such a foolish number only to see those beasts slaughtered because of it.”
She offered him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes at the second interruption. “May I continue?”
“Yes, go,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. I fought the urge to snarl at him.
Sylaira dragged in a breath and continued detailing her prophecy—the fake one she’d delivered to my sister and her husband.
“The waterfalls will run with Demon blood. The fight will cost thousands, but with each kill, we press farther into their realm.” Sylaira detailed her vision in crisp words, confidence in her tone and posture.
Of course, I’d believed her manipulations.
Her performances—both political and dancing—were flawless.
She told a story with the movement of her body and shape of her lips, and everyone believed her.
Ishim finished chewing the last of his roll, thankfully remaining silent through the rest of her explanation. “My forward scouts have reported no surges in Demons at their strategic outposts along the wall. So how do we know that is what will happen?”
“Because our Radiant Mother continues to shine Her light upon it,” Sylaira stated, crossing her arms.
Ishim blew out a long breath. “What happens after we overflow Uzhhorod?”
Sylaira flicked her attention up to me, and I offered her a subtle nod that she should continue. We hadn’t had nearly enough time to prepare our story for the Zahal. Thankfully, Maelsar had had the foresight to suggest starting our plan the previous evening.
“That I did not See. The Goddess has not offered me anything further.”
Ishim studied her for a long moment. I watched him just as intently, trying to gauge how much of her story he believed.
“The Goddess wants a massacre. We are Her holy warriors, and we will show Her our devotion through the bodies we leave in our wake,” I added, forcing vehement belief into my tone.
Ishim was a true fanatic, like his cousin the Koron. “Our Radiant Mother shines Her glory upon us all.” He hooked his thumbs together and fluttered his palms over his heart, whispering a fervent thanks. “Very well, we will continue on this path.”
“There is another vision you should hear,” I told him, reaching across the desk and fetching one of Sylaira’s drawings.
He snatched it out of my hand. “What is this?”
“We need to convince him this is our next stop.”
“Understood.”
“I had a vision of us facing off with the Halálhívó,” Sylaira explained. “Though I didn’t hear what was said, it seemed to be some sort of negotiation. But I didn’t sense that it was for peace.”
“Ah, yes. We have these meetings all the time, the Halálhívó and I. I do so enjoy needling under his skin. The last time we met, I saw his mate too. She is a pretty thing. We would have so much fun with her should we capture her again.” His gaze dragged over Sylaira.
Slow. Deliberate. The monster inside me begged to cut my finger and let it loose.
“In fact, I taunted him with the same and he had to be restrained by his Hadvezér.” Ishim cackled like his insinuation was funny. Like any mated male wouldn’t do the same.
The wood desk cracked, and Ishim’s focus shifted there. A knowing smile rose to his lips as I forced myself to release the table I hadn’t realized I’d been gripping.
Fury surged down our bond, and I snapped into Sylaira’s mind immediately. “Don’t.”
Her nostrils flared as she exhaled a calming breath. “I’m not telling him what I Saw of her now.”
“I wouldn’t.”
The Zahal—finally—returned his attention to the matter at hand. “Has anyone found the location yet?”
“Not yet, but I believe we should ride south at once. Winter is setting in, and snowfall will make traversing the mountains nearly impossible in some places. With wagons and horses and weaponry in tow, we need a smooth trail,” I said.