Chapter 73
DIEM
Ilooked at Luther. “Did you hear that?”
He gave a shallow nod. His mask had fallen, worry stark across his face. “Where is he?”
My eyes returned to the battlefield. I’d heard Taran’s anguished scream, but between the shield that glittered over the fighting, the constant bursts of magic, and the swarm of bodies, it was hard to spot anyone in the chaos.
More screams rang out, from voices high and low, both unknown and unsettlingly familiar. There were moans of pain, shrieks of terror, prayers for mercy, and heartrending wails, thick with the unmistakable grief of a loved one lost.
I could feel the scars forming on my heart, a thousand tiny little cuts, one for every trauma I witnessed. The survivors’ wounds would heal, but the scars would remain, and there wasn’t a single person here who would walk away without them.
“Help! Someone, help!”
Taran’s voice bellowed again, and Luther’s head snapped west. “I see him.”
“Is he hurt?” I asked. “Is Zal alright?”
Luther squinted. “I can’t tell. There are too many people around him.” I nudged my horse forward, and Luther’s hand shot out to grab my reins. “What are you doing?”
“He needs help. I can get to him.”
“Diem, everyone out there needs help. I know you. You’ll want to save all of them. If you go out there, you’re never coming back.”
“I’ll go,” Remis said.
Both our heads turned. I hadn’t seen Luther’s father all day, but I should have known he wasn’t far. Lurking near power was his specialty.
He dismounted and drew his sword. “I’ll find Taran.”
Something pulsed across the bond, an emotion from Luther I couldn’t quite name. “I’m going with you,” he said.
“No, you’re staying with Diem,” my mother interrupted. “Taran and Zalaric are my sons now. I’ll go with Remis and find them.” She glanced at Cordellia. “Command of the Guardians is yours. You know what to do.”
My mother swung off her horse and walked to Remis, and they exchanged distrustful stares. I couldn’t imagine how many times they’d dreamed of the other’s death. I wondered if that was a graver risk than anything they’d face out there.
“Take some healers,” I insisted. “Help everyone you can.”
My mother waved over a group of Descended healers and assigned a few Guardians to protect them. Luther watched his father, conflicted emotions thrumming off him.
“I’ll shield you for as long as I can,” Luther offered.
“Save your magic, son,” Remis said. “Don’t forget, I’m the one who taught you to wield a sword.” He shot my mother a guarded look. “As long as no one stabs me in the back, I’ll be fine.”
“She won’t,” I said.
She might, I thought.
Luther was quiet as he watched them go. His shield glimmered around them for a moment, then flickered away as the fighting engulfed them.
“Your Majesty,” Alixe said, “we should send the second wave.”
I looked out at Ophiucae’s shield. It was thick and strong, shimmering unbroken in the sunlight. We’d planned to send a wave of Emarion Army soldiers once we’d weakened his shield enough to pierce through, but it looked just as strong as the moment it first appeared.
“It’s too soon,” I said. “Our plan—”
“—has to change,” she interrupted. “We expected him to use his shield to protect his soldiers. Instead, he’s using it to force us into combat.
Our first wave had our strongest Descended, not our best fighters.
We’re wasting magic and taking needless losses.
If we send the second wave now, they can push to the front to fight and let the Descended drain his shield from the back. ”
I hesitated, hands tightening on the reins. Her plan made sense, but I couldn’t shake the feeling we were playing right into Ophiucae’s plan.
“There’s something else,” she added, more quietly. “The heat from the sun . . . it’s melting the wax.”
I looked around at the gathered soldiers. The godstone mixture we’d painted on to shield their minds was beginning to drip in dark rivulets down their cheeks.
“I told the army soldiers from Montios to use their ice to cool it,” Alixe said, “but there aren’t many of them, and their magic’s running out. If we don’t send the second wave while they’re still protected, we might risk sending them straight into Ophiucae’s hands later.”
I closed my eyes and sighed. The godstone was the only thing we had that Ophiucae couldn’t have planned for. I couldn’t risk losing that advantage—even if it put us right where he wanted.
“Give the order,” I murmured.
Alixe pulled away, riding down the lines to inform the battalions of the changes to our plan.
Horns blared and light magic flew in preplanned codes to alert the troops already fighting to pull back, but not retreat.
I had to credit Alixe—she’d thought of it all, making sure that no matter how the battle turned, we’d be ready to face it.
“Second wave,” she yelled, raising her shortsword. “Engage!”
Hundreds of army soldiers marched past in long, rigid lines, their energy hungry and expressions fierce. Even as they entered the fray, they stayed in tight formation like a singular deadly beast. These were career soldiers who’d enlisted to kill, and this was everything they’d ever trained to do.
And gods, were they effective. They breached the front line, and the crackled soil became a crimson carpet in their wake. They advanced with shocking speed, and Ophiucae’s army fell in droves.
And still, somehow, somewhere, I felt him smile.