Chapter 55
My hands trembled as I secured the white cloak around my shoulders.
In a few hours, we’d meet the Demons atop the wall, just like in my vision.
The pure color didn’t make me feel fortified—if anything, I felt exposed.
Like it was etched in my countenance that I wasn’t the Seraelth the army, the crown, the entirety of our race wanted me to be.
“Remember our plan,” Vaeron murmured, watching me dress from a chair in the corner.
“We need to draw the Halálhívó’s attention to the two of us, without giving away our mating bond,” I repeated. Because my vision yesterday had put me in the center of the tension thick enough to slice with a sword.
“He’s highly intelligent, and he knows who I am,” Vaeron reiterated. “Should he suspect our connection, he might do to you what we have done to his mate. After all, look what he did to Ishim.”
After his outburst, the tiny pieces the Goddess had offered me connected, and we’d put together that the Halálhívó did know of the Zahal’s affection toward her.
That attack—like many others—had been targeted and purposeful.
Which meant that anyone who had been captured, who had seen us together, could have told the Demons about our bond.
I brushed over the white leathers again, palms sweating. I wanted to dance away the anxiety threaded in my marrow. But there was no time.
Vaeron rose, hands threading around my lower back and bringing my body flush against his. “I will not let that happen, little fugitive. No one will take you from me.”
He curved down and pressed a kiss to my lips. “I need to aid Ishim with some last-minute preparations. Stay here and dance. You aren’t needed for this.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, love filling my heart. Because Vaeron saw me—my needs, my wants, my desires—and put them first. Loved me for them too.
So as he exited the room, hunger in his gaze still skating across my skin, I closed my eyes and rose to the tips of my bare toes.
The cloak fluttered around me as I starleaped across the small space, only large enough for three.
At the end, I spiraled, then dipped into a waterfall.
From there I airstepped, adding twists and small leaps.
My heart rate kicked up, and my thoughts slowed. The pressure to be the Seraelth faded away. Helene’s lapis irises melted. The existential threat to our realm blurred.
There was only the movement and the tune in my mind.
Breathless, I came to a stop, limbs looser and anxiety gone.
I can do this.
I found the pitcher of water and poured myself a glass, draining it entirely.
Then, I shoved my feet into my boots and emerged into the hall, gliding down the stairs and out into the sun.
Isra and another islander were waiting for me, and I was grateful for their protection, especially with how close we were to the wall.
A commotion in the distance caught my attention. Frowning, I followed the source of sound, meeting Lyriasthe on my trek there.
“What’s going on?” I asked her.
“Maelsar told me they were going to get Zaph,” she murmured, her focus straight ahead.
All the air around us dragged forward.
Oh, shit.
We picked up our pace, sliding into view of my mate just as he issued a Command.
“FREEZE.”
A male with turquoise irises ceased all movement, his hand an inch from his weapon. Fury twisted his features. Panic gripped me—because Vaeron wasn’t supposed to have access to his power as far as Ishim knew.
Lyriasthe and I shared a terrified look.
Ishim watched on, his expression determined and not at all suspicious, as Maelsar cuffed Zaph in bronze.
“You have caused us enough trouble,” the Zahal spat. “If it weren’t for you, we would have had more time to prepare for this war. Instead, we’ve been on the back foot for a decade. You should have killed the Halálhívó and his mate while you had the chance. What were you thinking?”
With Zaph still under the thrall of my mate’s magic, he couldn’t reply. Yet I knew from Vaeron and Maelsar, the Zahal would have been even more furious had the male killed the Demons’ leader, as Ishim had claimed the death as his.
“The Halálhívó will be pleased to have you in his clutches again.” Ishim stepped forward, hands drifting to Zaph’s forehead. He moved the curtain of hair aside, revealing the H carved there. “You’ve always belonged to him, after all.”
Then, he spun on his heel and barked an order over his shoulder. “Gag him and tie him to a horse. He’s not getting away.”
Vaeron surrendered his hold, and two more darted forward to catch Zaph and drag him to our waiting mounts. He turned, eyes meeting mine.
“It seems when it comes to Iskarya, Ishim is willing to overlook quite a lot. My magic is useful to him in these situations,” he told me, sensing my lingering question.
“We’re leaving soon. Tell Lyriasthe to pack our things while we’re away.
We have no time to waste if we are to reach that southern outpost.”
“Be right there,” I promised him.
The soldiers who had gathered for the show dispersed, paying us no heed.
“Vaeron says we need to depart immediately upon our return,” I told Lyriasthe, my voice low.
“Noted. What should I tell Oshenai?” she whispered.
I relayed the question to my mate. “He said that he will speak with him before we go.”
She nodded, giving me a quick hug. “Go in peace.”
“Always in peace,” I returned, pressing my hand palm up over my heart.
And then, I strode toward the waiting horses, toward the moment I’d already Seen.
Toward the storm of my own making.
A Bassi blew a horn three times, each note held a beat too long to my acutely tuned ear.
I glanced at Vaeron, who offered me a reassuring nod as we emerged from the treeline.
Ishim rode at the head, his dappled, decorated horse tossing its head.
All of ours were in a similar state of dress, my sturdy white mare’s mane braided tight like she was about to face a battle.
This one would not include swords, however.
At the lip of the wall, a broad male stood, his face covered by a black skull. Twin ebony horns speared from the sides of the helmet. Burgundy irises burned in the pitch.
Seeing him in my visions had not prepared me for the sinister aura that exuded from him.
“You requested a meeting,” the Halálhívó growled in the common tongue. The hairs on the back of my neck rose from the depth of gravel in his voice.
Vaeron had been the monster in my nightmares; we faced an entirely new one now. I understood the fear the Angel soldiers had of him then.
And I desperately wished Lyriasthe was among us so we could speak of the horror together later.
Ishim slid from his mount, striding closer to the wall. His silver armor gleamed in the light, the feathers atop his helmet dipping back as he glared up at our enemies. With a subtle gesture, he signaled the rest of the party to join him.
“Approach,” the Halálhívó ordered like we were in his army before pivoting and retreating.
“Let us go in peace,” I whispered under my breath, eyes dipping closed for the briefest of moments. Vaeron squeezed my hand one last time, then called on his wings and launched into the air.
On my next breath, I did the same, the whisper of feathers filling the air. In perfect formation, our group landed atop the wall, fanning out in support of our leader.
My eyes darted around, awed at just how much of my vision had been true.
The two bone thrones faced us, the Halálhívó standing in front of his while his mate perched atop the other. Yet as I drank in the sight of her in the flesh for the first time, something felt…off. The energy she projected was far different from the fierce warrior I’d Seen.
“Halálhívó, you have been busy,” Ishim taunted, tearing my attention back to him.
With two snaps of his fingers, he signaled for me to step forward, as we had planned.
The parchment upon which I’d drawn the moment weighed heavily in my pocket.
With trembling hands, I freed it, sliding between Angels until I was at the front of our group.
The heat of Vaeron’s gaze tracked me the entire way.
“You’re going to give us away,” I shot down our bond as I knelt at Ishim’s feet.
My teeth clenched at the subservient position. I savored the fact that he was clueless to our plans. I might have been on my knees for him then—like a good, pious Angel—but it wouldn’t be long until every male and female in our realm would be on their knees for me.
He lifted the parchment from my outstretched hands. I waited a beat before rising and weaving through my kin to a spot a few places away from my mate.
Ishim tugged on the strings of the scroll, unfurling it. I didn’t need to glimpse the parchment to know the scene it contained—it was exactly as it was now. But still, he shifted it, glancing between it and the leader of the Demon army.
He laughed, the sound grating on my nerves. It was entirely obvious how forced it was.
“This is who Stadiel thought should lead the army? No wonder they’ve been losing,” I commented to my mate.
“I’m so glad you’ve arrived at the same conclusion Maelsar and I did centuries ago.”
“Divine. Simply divine,” Ishim purred, rolling the paper shut. He passed it to Vaeron on his right. My mate tucked it away, his focus never leaving the Halálhívó.
“You see, our Seers have predicted this moment exactly. This meeting. The second chair made of the bones of our people. You beasts are so predictable,” he spit, disdain dripping from every word.
At least he hadn’t mentioned me by name.
“So?” the Halálhívó drawled, gripping the twin skulls at the front of his throne to aid him in sinking onto the bones.
A flicker of a memory rose—Ishim’s furious words about how Seraphin had been killed before and woven into the chair.
Nausea churned in my gut as I studied the empty sockets, wondering which one she was.