Chapter 62
The Kral’s membranous black wings unfurled from his spine, and he leaped over the edge of the wall, shadows enveloping him and the High Priestess.
He hadn’t seen us.
“Let’s follow him,” I told Maelsar.
We shot forward, keeping enough distance that he wouldn’t notice our presence—yet. Though he seemed to lack awareness of his surroundings. Unsurprising, given he ruled and had countless guards between him and real danger, just like my sister and her husband.
But was it carelessness or confidence?
To my shock, he flew in the direction of our meeting point.
“So he was going to keep his word,” Maelsar said, raising his voice over the wind.
“Looks that way.” Yet suspicion still twisted in my gut. I didn’t trust the male. He reeked of desperation, as my mate had said. And I’d seen exactly what that did to people.
Xannirin landed there first, shadows falling away like he was dropping a cloak. I snapped my wings shut and plummeted to the earth, landing with a thud.
He jolted and spun to face us, lips curling back from his teeth. “There you are.”
“You were the one who kept us waiting,” I pointed out, striding forward.
The High Priestess thrashed, managing to dislodge his grip long enough to race forward. But he was faster and caught her before she’d made it two steps. She kicked her legs, knocking her shoulder into his chest, as he dragged her back.
“Had to find some silver shackles from the prison cells,” he explained, tightening his grip on Kiira. She whimpered, and my fingers flexed at my sides. I knew what it was like to be bound and powerless, at the mercy of a cruel monarch.
The irony of allying with this monster wasn’t lost on me.
“Your attack offered a convenient exit for us, though.” The Kral threaded more of his black threads around her, extra security against another escape attempt.
I didn’t confirm or deny that the assault had been planned by me.
When I said nothing, he spoke again. “When this is all over, she’s mine.”
“As you’ve said,” I replied coolly, studying the male. Gauging whether or not he’d have to die for us to have peace.
“I keep my head and my throne,” he reiterated, gesturing to the crown around his brow.
“Aye,” was my only response. Containing him, once this was all over, would be a necessity. He was too arrogant for the plans I had; I didn’t want to rule opposite him.
His attention flicked between Maelsar and me like he was still considering whether he could trust us. He would have been a fool to—especially after I Commanded him.
But as it turned out, all monarchs were the same: greedy for power and willing to throw their own family to the predators to maintain it.
“Will you tell anyone what you’ve done?” I pressed him. If this ploy failed, we’d be doomed. Heads spiked on the gates of Thalvireth. Bodies picked over by carrion birds.
“You’ve Commanded me not to,” he spat through gritted teeth, eyes flashing darker.
Perhaps he didn’t know the intricacies of my magic, but I couldn’t tell if he was lying either.
“So what will you say when you return to your army?” Maelsar asked, tilting his head to the side as he glared at the Kral.
“Why does it matter to you?” Xannirin shot back.
Maelsar shrugged. “Wanted to know if we’d made a bargain with a fool.”
His nostrils flared at the insult. “Why would I admit that I gave Kiira to you? It serves me far better to say that you ripped her from my arms while I was trying to protect her.”
So he was playing a game with the most powerful in his realm, just as we were with the monarchs in ours. With Kiira in our custody, we’d have leverage over the Kral. We needed it over the Halálhívó too.
“I should go back with her,” he threatened, gaze sharpening.
“You saw the Angels winning before you left, did you not?” I challenged. “If you want to keep your throne, you need the Halálhívó to dominate us.”
Xannirin seemed to weigh his decision in his mind, Kiira trembling in the grip of his shadows. I held my breath, waiting to see if he’d hand the High Priestess over or not.
Darkness swirled to a frenzy around them. I tugged on the well of my power, Command surging to my throat, preparing to stop them should he try to back out of our deal now.
He snaked an arm around her waist, wings flexing behind him. Instead of launching into the sky, he dropped his head to whisper in her ear. But I didn’t surrender my hold.
A tear rolled down the High Priestess’s cheek, dragging charcoal with it and staining her skin. She remained stiff in his embrace—so much like when Sylaira had danced with Herr Elyriane at the ball. This Demon wasn’t my mate, yet I found myself wanting to save her from the clutches of her cousin.
Disgust curled inside me, acidic and bitter. But my mask did not slip.
I was the fucking Issaraeth. She had to fear us—as she so obviously feared her cousin. Even though we wouldn’t harm her.
I couldn’t say the same for the Kral.
He pressed his lips to her neck, and she cringed, her shoulders hiking higher. Then, he balled shadows at her back and shoved her forward. “She’s all yours.”
Maelsar hauled her into his arms, expression grim and lips curved into a sneer, a purposeful act to make the two Demons think the mere thought of us touching her was repulsive.
They didn’t know our beliefs had shifted—that we planned to eradicate the fanaticism among our people.
They don’t know that I carry Demon magic too.
“We’ll see you in Sivy,” I told him as he flexed his wings.
He nodded, legs bending, and then he launched himself into the sky, sailing back toward the battle.
“Let’s get her to the horses and get the fuck out of here before the Hadvezér realizes she’s gone. We’ll have to kill him if he comes after her,” Maelsar said, adjusting his grip.
At the mention of him, the High Priestess began sobbing, terror wracking her frame. The very same that had happened to Lyriasthe when Maelsar hung between life and death.
At least that answered my question as to whether or not she understood Angelic. Which meant we had to be very careful about what we said aloud.
So I couldn’t tell Maelsar that killing the Hadvezér would only serve to show the Halálhívó we couldn’t be trusted. But if he found his lover in our chains now, diplomacy and magic wouldn’t be enough to stop him. “I didn’t see him anywhere. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t around. We need to move.”
We took to the skies, a shriek tearing from Kiira’s throat. She flailed like she’d rather plummet to her death than let us carry her away. Maelsar snaked white around her, binding her to him.
She wasn’t going anywhere—not with how essential she was to ending this war. I checked around us as we sailed toward the forest, ensuring the Kral hadn’t gone to fetch his Hadvezér to ambush us and take her back.
No burgundy irises appeared in the dark.
I banked right, the bond tugging me closer to my mate. Thank the Goddess for this connection, because finding her among the trees and the chaos would have been impossible otherwise.
Ilae’s ghostly form appeared ahead, circling a ring of pines dusted in snow. I pointed, and Maelsar changed course, heading toward my auravane.
Ilae clicked when he saw us, gliding alongside us to the ground. A small clearing awaited, and I spotted the horses tied to a fallen tree.
But there was no sign of Sylaira.
We crept forward, listening for any sounds. Feminine voices drifted into my ears, and I quickened my pace, motioning for Maelsar to remain where he was. When I rounded the corner, I found a small cave.
A bolt of fear flashed through me, and white leaped to my fingertips.
Because my mate stood across from a Demon female.
Somehow, our enemies had slipped past my protection and cornered Sylaira. But their heads bent close, like they were conspirators rather than in opposition.
A dark figure crept across the rock above the maw, cherry-red irises stark against the snow.
And then…
He leaped.