Chapter 54
Baelii roiled with activity as we continued to settle into our position. Heartbeats thundered all around me; the cacophony had grown the closer to battle we went, a background noise I struggled to silence.
A shout snapped my attention up, Ishim’s blathering forgotten. I strode outside the white and blue supply tent to see what had stirred up the soldiers.
Two males leaned on each other, limping into the camp. One was missing half his arm, the stump leaking through the fabric wrapping it. The second’s face was unrecognizable, bruised and bloodied. But the Bassi symbol stitched into his leathers was pristine.
“What the fuck happened?” I growled, stalking forward and clearing the ring that had formed around them with my voice alone. But as I passed, I watched reality slam into the new recruits. Ashen faces. Shaking hands. Shoulders curling in.
This was what happened at the front of a war.
A female wisely shouted for a healer, her voice quivering as much as she was.
“Issaraeth,” the one with the missing limb greeted me, attempting to raise his hands to cover his heart, only to let his arms drop limply. A pained groan trembled in his throat, and he swayed on his feet like he was moments away from fainting.
I had no idea where these two had come from, but it was clear they’d been in a skirmish with the Demons. Likely the same ones who had been picking off our scouting groups one by one.
“By the Goddess,” Ishim swore, skidding to a halt at my side.
“Most holy Zahal,” the Bassi coughed, falling to his knees.
“Can we get them some fucking help?” I yelled, glaring at the soldiers standing around gawking. “Or do I need to Command you all out of your stupor?”
The threat scattered them into action, and groups raced forward, carrying the wounded toward where the healers had set up their treatment stations.
Thalyon was there, and he left his current patient to assess the two the moment we stepped inside.
“Do whatever it takes to keep them alive.” Because we needed to hear what they had to say. The Demons were playing an entirely different game than they had before, and Sylaira couldn’t keep up through her visions alone.
“Yes, sir,” Thalyon said, setting to work on the dismembered Angel while another healer wove healing lattices over the face of the other.
Ishim yanked on a stool and settled, watching them work, a muscle jumping in his jaw.
“Care to share your thoughts?” I asked.
“I know him,” he gritted out, indicating the one whose face was twisted in anguish but otherwise unharmed.
“So where were they?” I pressed.
Ishim only stared straight ahead, a sickly pallor to his skin, as the healers worked their magic. Suspicion settled in my gut. I glanced at the soldier, his expression now smooth from the dose of poppy. I wracked my brain for where I had seen him before.
And then it struck me.
Iskarya—the Padisa who had brought the first group over the wall. And who Ishim had reluctantly let go on a patrol two nights ago to ensure the Demons weren’t sneaking over the wall to flank us as we reached the outpost city.
Of course, he was fucking his officers—he always had, abusing his position of power. Even when he’d been betrothed to another.
“Let’s resume our discussion. There’s nothing we can do here,” I told Ishim, testing if my theory held truth.
“I’ll wait.”
“Surely someone will fetch us when they wake.” I crossed my arms, waiting for him to refuse me again.
The Zahal was undeterred. So I left, going to find Maelsar.
If Ishim didn’t want to discuss supplies and strategy, we could work on the next phase of our plan.
At least with our leader so concerned for the lives of two grunts, he wouldn’t be lurking and listening to our treasonous plotting.
So far, he hadn’t said anything else about my eyes, hair, or sister, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t waiting for a moment to catch me off guard with it.
Which made it difficult to relax.
A storm rolled in, pattering the windows of the command building with heavy raindrops. Maelsar and I glanced outside together.
“Well, that’s not a good sign,” he muttered.
Purple lightning forked through the air, followed by a crash of thunder. “I don’t know…the last two times that happened, everything changed.”
Maelsar lifted a gray brow. “Do you think–”
But a male burst through the entrance, chest heaving. “He’s awake. Come quickly.”
Our discussion forgotten, we raced back to the wounded soldiers with him, water soaking our armor as the downpour continued.
The bruises that had decorated the Bassi’s face had faded, the bones reset to their proper positions. His companion still rested under the influence of potions, his wound far more grievous.
“Speak,” Ishim barked, his voice rising to a high pitch that betrayed his impatience. He shifted from foot to foot, like the bolts crackling above would spear down and strike him if he stood still.
“It was the Demons,” the soldier croaked, his white hair tumbling over his forehead as he dropped his chin to his chest. “We couldn’t hold them off.”
“So Iskarya sent you here for reinforcements? Why didn’t you say something?” Ishim demanded.
The male lifted his gaze, a plea in his expression. “We were the only survivors.”
The Zahal took a staggering step like he’d been struck. “What?”
“That’s not the worst of it.”
Thunder rumbled overhead, making the earth shake beneath our boots.
“How could anything possibly be worse?” Ishim hissed once the noise subsided.
“Myrza Saethir led the attack into the camp and took Padisa Iskarya with him. He was with the Halálhívó! Willingly!” He wrung his hands, distress eating away at every inch of his composure.
“But I don’t understand why. Why would anyone side with those beasts?
Certainly a member of a noble house would have better sense. ”
Maelsar gripped my arm, and I tilted my face toward his, finding worry dancing in his aquamarine eyes. We already knew Saethir would be at the meeting on the wall, that his actions there were questionable. But this?
My best friend swallowed hard, then forced a neutral expression. Whatever he felt, he buried deep to be dissected later. Because we finally had the details of how the meeting Sylaira had Seen would come to pass.
Ishim swore, kicking the stool he’d been perched on and sending it crashing into the side of the tent. None of the healers dared say anything as their Zahal raged.
I slunk back, dipping my mouth toward Maelsar’s ear. “This is our opportunity to push for the encounter with the Demons.”
“Aye,” Maelsar replied, though concern edged his tone. The news of Saethir’s defection had clearly shaken him. But there was no time to unpack it now.
Ishim whirled on us, mania glinting in his icy irises. “We have to get her back. Whatever it takes.”
I straightened into a soldier’s posture and braced for the backlash. “It sounds like she might be lost to us now. They’ve been taking captives for months and haven’t released a single one.”
Red rose to Ishim’s cheeks. “This time they will.”
“How?” I asked, head tilting to the side.
He rolled his lips like he was considering how to respond. Then, with a furious huff, he stalked out of the tent, shoulder ramming into mine. “Come with me.”
Hail pelted us, and Maelsar crafted a canopy with his magic to shield us. Angels scattered—from the threat of the ice stones as much as the Zahal’s fury. Ishim wasn’t known for having a temper, but the unhinged way he moved now had me wary and on edge.
Before she departed, he and Iskarya had lingered close until the last possible moment, their heads bent and words low. Almost like lovers. Why hadn’t it registered then?
The Zahal barked at a passing female to find him some wine. She scurried away to do his bidding, magic swirling around her to block out the weather. But Ishim didn’t seem to care—to notice—the ever-increasing size of the falling ice.
The command center loomed ahead, shrouded in mist. Ishim ducked into it, and my blood ran cold when I found Sylaira there, peering over the map. Alone.
Ishim slammed his fists into the table, making the stones on the map jump. My mate leaped back, her eyes wide.
“Calm yourself, Ishim,” I snapped, stalking to her side. Because the leader of the Angel army was a male possessed, and I wasn’t sure what he would do next.
He hissed out air through clenched teeth, staring at Keleti like his fury alone would help him conquer it.
“You didn’t say they would take her!” he roared, pointing his finger at Sylaira.
I stepped between them, hiding her from his view. “She couldn’t have known.”
With a snarl, Ishim shoved me. It was by sheer force of will that I didn’t move. Instead, I kept my courtly mask in place, offering him a lazy blink. “My mate did not See such an outcome. Try to contain yourself and act in accordance with your rank.”
“Well she fucking should have,” he raged, fingers curling into fists at his sides like he was going to swing for my face next. “It’s bad enough that I have to see Seraphin’s skull every time I meet with the Halálhívó. He’ll find a place to put Iskarya’s on his throne next.”
“We also don’t know that she’s dead. From all accounts, the Demons are capturing Angels in order to coerce them to switch sides,” I added, muscles twitching in anticipation for a strike from the Zahal.
“Bah,” he spat, waving his hand in the air instead of slapping me. “Yet another reason their dark magic should be eradicated. They promise falsities. They are temptation incarnate, the very definition of sin.”
He slipped into a furious tirade about the people sharing our continent, his hatred and prejudice tainting the air. Once, I would have agreed with him, tried to outdo him in my disdain if only to prove that I belonged, that I was powerful and others had reason to fear me.
But I remained silent. As did Maelsar and my mate.
“Are you okay?” I asked Sylaira, tuning him out.
“Yes. I was on my way to tell you I had another vision.”
“We’ll speak on it later.”
The female entered with the wine, interrupting his venomous words. He snatched the skin from her, draining it entirely. Then he exhaled, long and low, facing the map once again.
“We will arrange a meeting,” he spat, hate curling his lips back from his teeth.
“I fail to see how that would solve anything,” I said, hoping that my reluctance would only encourage him to set it up.
“The Halálhívó hates one Angel above all others,” Ishim explained.
A scream of lightning struck amid the hail. Maelsar offered the name once the sound passed. “Zaph of House Faelira.”
Ishim tossed the wineskin away, scattering drops of purple across the parchment. “Exactly. And though he has aided our cause…he’s become tiresome as of late.”
I pressed my lips together to smother a laugh. Tiresome was one word to use, though I had plenty of others I could say about the male who could barely claim noble blood, whose bravado was borderline comical for all his lack.
“I see,” was all I said, hoping Ishim’s anger would carry the rest of the plan forward.
He snatched a piece of parchment and scratched out a furious note. “The hour is too late to ride to the wall today. Can’t risk anyone riding out in this fucking tempest either. Tomorrow, we’ll send a contingent to deliver this.”
I held out my hand to review what he’d written, but he creased it instead and stamped wax with his signet to seal it.
I didn’t like not knowing the words scrawled there, especially in his frenzied state. Our plan had to unfold in the exact steps we’d ordained, much like a complex Vaela? performance, to ensure it landed. Though not everything was going as intended already.
“What if he says no?” I questioned.
Ishim’s gaze darkened. “He won’t.”
“But if he does?” I challenged.
“Then our attack begins the next day. We will get back what is rightfully mine.” His nails dragged across the table, and then he straightened to his full height.
I rolled my shoulders back, undeterred by his posturing. “Very well. Sylaira will sit in meditation today and pray for our Radiant Mother to offer her a glimpse of the future that might shed some insight on our path.”
“Go,” Ishim gritted out, and we wasted no time retreating, even with the threat of ice balls rolling under our feet.
Only when we’d reached the building housing the officers did we allow ourselves to exhale and share a triumphant grin.
“That was easier than I thought,” Maelsar said.
“It makes me feel like we’re walking into a trap, though,” I told him.
He shrugged. “Maybe the Goddess is on our side for once.”
“With what I Saw, I very much doubt that,” Sylaira murmured, halting us in our tracks. Beneath her practiced composure, she was pale. And through our bond, I sensed her unease.
“Let’s get into a private space then and you can tell us what you Saw,” I said, my hand finding her lower back and guiding her up the stairs.
Worry knotted my gut with every step. Not only because of the trepidation rolling off my mate—but also because if Angels were really defecting, we had an entirely different problem on our hands.
One that could either hurt us…
Or help us.