Chapter 61
Lyriasthe and I went rigid at every scream that drifted down the mountain. Snow fell harder and heavier, blanketing the landscape beyond our safe haven.
“Are they okay?” my friend asked for the dozenth time. And for the dozenth time, I dove down my bond, savoring the closeness of my mate. I didn’t dare look through his eyes—I’d Seen enough battles.
But he was alive. He was breathing. And he was confident.
“They are,” I confirmed, returning to her.
Her sky-blue eyes still danced with worry. She shot to her feet, pacing back and forth, bubble lights tracking her every movement.
They left a slim trail in their wake. I blinked, and the distortion disappeared. Until she pivoted, the tendril of white lengthening again.
Not now, please not now.
I prayed the Goddess would heed my plea. I needed to be available for Vaeron. A battle was no place to See the future.
I want it, Radiant Mother. I only need more time.
Torn between two duties—to my Sight and to my mate—I dragged in deep breaths, slowing the undulating white in my chest.
The warning signs receded until I didn’t feel the pressure of a vision at my temples.
A crack rent the air, and I whipped my head toward the entrance to the cave. Lyriasthe froze, staring into the darkness. One of the horses whinnied, and panic clawed up my throat.
I sought out Ysolthe, hoping she was nearby. She flashed back an image of the dark forest and her diving down in my direction.
Guttural voices drifted into the cave. In two strides, Lyriasthe and I collided, her bubble lights vanishing.
“What do we do?” she hissed, her voice scarcely louder than a whisper.
“Hope they don’t come in here,” I murmured, hands shaking.
Vaeron and Maelsar were so far away. And by the pulses of fury down our bond, locked in a serious fight.
“Hello?” said a voice in the common tongue.
Not just any voice—a feminine one.
Lyriasthe squeezed my arm tighter. The air in front of us shimmered as she cast an Illusion.
“The High Priestess said you might be here,” she called out again. Yet her accent was unfamiliar from all of my visions of female Demons before.
Had Kiira Seen us here?
“I’m not going to hurt you.” Her footsteps echoed off the rock.
And as she rounded the corner, a held torch flickered across her face.
Maroon irises searched the darkness. She was short, her long, thick hair secured at the nape of her neck.
While she wore armor, she didn’t carry herself like Isra, whose confidence in her fighting prowess was unshakable.
“You are the Seraelth, no?”
Her focus was on the opposite side of the cave, and she drifted away from where Lyriasthe and I were positioned.
Something in me tugged toward her despite logic telling me that we should not reveal ourselves. My intuition had guided me well so far, and so I trusted it once again.
“I am.” My voice rang out from behind the Illusion.
The female halted, searching for the source of sound. “I am Maariya. The High Priestess is my closest friend. She sent me to find you.”
Air stuttered in my lungs. Our eyes had connected in that first vision I’d had of her…
“I mean you no harm. Neither does she,” Maariya added, coming to a stop and sighing. There was no way she’d truly find us, not with Lyriasthe’s magic shielding us.
“Then what does she want?” I asked.
“Peace.”
Lyriasthe and I shared a look, a silent conversation passing between us with shrugs and shakes of our head.
“Why would she want that?” I pressed, unwilling to give more away than I had to.
“She has Seen the end of the war,” Maariya stated.
But did she See the same end as me?
A hum reverberated in the cave, and Ysolthe swooped into view, talons outstretched. Maariya screamed and dropped her torch.
But my auravane was undeterred, the scrape of her feathers slicing the air.
“Stop!” I shouted, leaping forward to wave her away before she could hurt the Demon.
And in doing so, I stepped out from behind the Illusion. Ysolthe flapped her razor-sharp wings, the gusts dousing the flames and casting us in darkness.
I threw bubble lights in front of me, finding Maariya on the ground, curled in a ball, her arms thrown over her head.
But in saving her, I’d exposed us both. If she wasn’t alone, then I’d handed over our location. Ysolthe backed out of the cave, hovering at its entrance like she would stand between me and whomever else might be out there. Her form glowed with a ghostly aura.
“She won’t hurt you now. She was trying to protect me,” I explained quickly, shoving out my hand to help the Demon up.
She eyed it with an understandable dose of wariness before finally accepting my aid. She startled when Lyriasthe came into view too. “My apologies, I didn’t realize there were two of you.”
“There is more than one of you, no?” I replied.
“It’s only me,” she swore.
Lyriasthe lifted a skeptical brow. Because we’d both heard differently—the cave didn’t distort sound that much.
“Let’s step outside,” I said, not wanting to be in a confined space now that the Illusion shielding us was gone. And then we could scan to see if she spoke true.
She nodded, tugging the collar of her jacket up higher as we exited the cave. The white of the snow highlighted the ground despite the cloud cover. Our horses, tethered to the fallen tree, were now ankle-deep in it.
“Seraelth, our realm has been changing these last months. It is by the grace of our Szélhámos—the mate of the Halálhívó—and High Priestess that I am here speaking to you at all. She believes that the Fates wish for this war to end,” Maariya explained, her tone rich and smooth.
“I believe the same for the Goddess,” I said, scrutinizing every micro movement of hers, seeking signs of deception. Lyriasthe scanned our surroundings for Maariya’s companion.
“The Age of War must come to an end. We need your help to do so. Some Angels have been defecting,” she continued, fingers twisting before she smoothed them over her leathers.
“We are aware,” I added, my tone even and neutral. So much like my mate. I realized then how Vaeron had rubbed off on me—playing these games, posturing to gain information without giving too much away in return.
She shifted her weight from side to side, attention flicking between us like she was debating how we’d react to her next words.
“Speak,” I told her, rolling my shoulders back and lifting my chin.
“The Halálhívó has been offering them sanctuary and promising they won’t be killed after the final battles are fought,” she added, swallowing hard.
“Because some of them are mated to Demons.”