48. Vengeance
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Vengeance
The shack leading to the Resistance stronghold no longer existed. In its place was a burned pile of ash. Abrax approached, his hooves crunching burned stalks.
“Your Highness,” Morak called, jogging over. His arms were dusted with thick char. He grabbed Abrax’s reins.
Cassiel dismounted and plucked me off the horse, cradling me close. He had not stopped lightly caressing me, but as much as it soothed me, I forced myself awake.
“I am glad you are well,” Morak said to me.
“Me too,” I responded. “Is everyone else okay?”
His lips tensed. With my question, an image of Lucinda being run through surfaced.
“Lucinda. Vaner stabbed her.” My voice faltered.
He nodded sadly. “She told me what had been done to you with her final breath. Vera, Branwen, and Tabby prepared her for travel to the Kingdom. They thought you would want her rites read there.”
“How long has it been since the attack?” I asked.
“Four dawnlight rotations.” He eyed my face. “Does this mean Vaner is dead?” He seemed to hold his breath, waiting for an answer.
“Yes.” I lifted my chin. Satisfaction glinted in his eyes, and he patted the side of Abrax’s neck. “And here? Were there many deaths?”
“Fewer than what it could have been. They were trying to take all the redblood children, so they did not harm them. They were not expecting two other Warlords present. Liadan and Jude dispatched all the officers, and the rest ran like cowards.” His voice was filled with satisfaction.
“There is another issue with The Barren,” I said.
“The final threshold to Oro has closed.” Morak nodded.
“Swarms of Hollow attacks ramped up when the previous thresholds sealed. One of our people that lived in a nearby village came for asylum when the Hollow attacks began.” Morak tipped his head to me.
“I will take the horse. Go and rest.” He eyed my torn dress and blood-stained frock. “You have earned it.”
The heaviness on my eyelids could no longer be ignored. A yawn escaped. Cassiel frowned at me and strode past Morak.
“Wait.” I smacked his shoulder.
“You require rest.”
“Where is Tabby?” I called back.
“She is taking her rest after her turn discarding debris,” Morak called.
I waved my thanks and sank into Cassiel’s arms. The weight was too heavy, so I let my eyes shut. Now that I knew there were not so many friends to mourn, I could shut off for just a bit. I must have dozed, because the next thing I knew, the bed creaked as Cassiel settled me on it.
“Rest, sweet bondmate,” Cassiel whispered against my ear.
I lay against him as if I could melt into him.
“Do not be angry with me.” His words came through my sleep-fogged mind.
I hummed, tucking closer to him, so terribly exhausted. The rest of his words faded.
I slid my hand across the fur, searching for Cassiel. Empty fur greeted my palm.
I jolted upright. Soreness stilled me. I groaned, rolling my shoulders. The place where I usually felt Cassiel was empty. A hollow sensation thrummed through my breastbone. Simply with that I knew he was nowhere near here.
Rolling onto my feet, I found myself nude. I gasped, searching for a gown. The scent of lavan told me Cassiel had bathed me as I slept. Snippets of warm water lapping, and the lulling rubs of his large hands filled my memory.
One of the older dresses lay strewn across the chaise in the corner of the chamber.
I was quick to don it, buttoning it as I shoved my feet into slippers.
Moments away from running from the chamber, I whirled to the settee.
I pulled the cushion back and exposed the satchel I stuffed there.
The weight of the velvet box inside swung the fabric.
Once I grabbed the journal and grimoire, I placed them back inside it.
Now I am ready. I straightened my shoulders and marched out, the bag thumping against my hip.
“Morak! Archer! Tabby!” I shouted, running down the path toward the exit. I almost collided with Branwen who was carrying a tray.
“What is it, Amara?”
“Where has Cassiel gone?” I croaked.
Her eyes skated away. “Erm, I am sure Morak wanted to speak to you about it.”
“He left for the Kingdom, did he not?” That could be the only reason for his absence.
I bolted past Branwen. She cursed, following me.
“He rode away at dusklight!” she called. Archer came into view, eyebrows furrowed. “Thank Saints,” she muttered.
Perfect. Archer would not mince words.
“Where has he gone?” I barreled up to him, needing to crane my neck to meet his gaze.
“To handle the council.”
“And you allowed him?” I gritted my teeth.
“Lord Draven is not one that is allowed or not.” He chuckled. “Liadan went with him.”
I masked my fury and used the anger to barrel forward. I knew where they kept horses.
“Miss Amara,” he snapped from behind me. His wider stride had him in the way. I moved to the side. He was there to block me again.
“Let me through,” I ordered.
“I cannot allow you to leave.”
“You cannot allow it?!”
“What is with the shouting?!” Tabby came running from the end of the hall. Far behind her was Vera. Metal replaced where her leg had been, causing her stride to be hobbled. She gripped the head of her cane.
“Ah, she found out he left,” Tabby said, approaching as she clicked her tongue. She scanned me, taking hold of Archer’s arm and rubbing it.
“I must return to the Kingdom,” I announced, telling her directly.
“And I said no—”
“You can’t stop me.” I tried keeping my temper reined in, but it was difficult.
“Let her through,” Tabby said, her eyes piercing mine. She offered a nod.
“Tabitha,” Archer growled.
She narrowed her eyes. “Yes?” There was a wealth of warning in her voice.
He cleared his throat. “I gave my word,” he said in a much softer tone.
“And it can be broken.” She lifted her chin. “Archer, when you were gone, I almost fell to pieces. I was not allowed to leave, and it almost destroyed me. Doing nothing, waiting along the sidelines is a different sort of agony.” She paused, closing her eyes.
Archer frowned and cupped her face.
“She should choose for herself,” Vera announced. “She has proven herself more than skilled.”
Branwen nodded hard and stepped beside Vera.
“Thank you, girls,” I whispered.
“I see I am outnumbered.”
“Will I be allowed to take a horse?”
Archer rubbed his chin and sighed.
“I will go prepare it for you,” Branwen chirped, pushing the tray into Tabby’s arms. She took off in a rush, her gown fluttering around her legs.
“I will ensure the blame doesn’t fall on you.” I allowed a small smile. “Besides, Cassiel knows me well enough.”
Archer inclined his head, offering me the point. “Be sure to be safe. We always saddle the horses with a satchel of food for circumstances like this.”
“Thank you,” I said, rushing away. It took me time to climb the steps, my hip pinching each time I put my weight on that side.
I pushed the little overhead door up and came out to a group of people still gathering debris. Dawnlight blinded me briefly, the intensity of going from dull light requiring a beat.
“Where do you think you are going?” Damien drawled. I startled, whirling to Damien wiping his hands on a stained cloth.
“To fetch a stubborn Warlord.”
He chuckled. “Brave woman.” Respect and admiration shone in his eyes. I cleared my throat and squeezed my skirt. I was not used to such a look.
“Amara!” Branwen called.
Branwen approached with a man leading a saddled horse by the reins. I moved toward the mare.
“Ho there!” Damien exclaimed. “You plan to travel alone?” He sounded too astounded for it to be a compliment. I patted the horse’s neck, running my hand over her sleek coat.
“Help her up, lad,” the older man prodded Damien.
“I will not put hands on her. Imagine that bondmate of hers.” Damien whistled, holding his palms up. “You are welcome to.”
“I can do it myself,” I huffed, mounting with ease.
“For fuck’s sake, give me one moment.” Damien disappeared.
“Wait!” Tabby cried as she ran to us. The horse neighed, and I patted its neck, tugging at the reins to calm her. “You cannot go alone.”
The sound of thundering hoofs turned us all to a nearing Archer.
“No.” I frowned at Tabby. “You should not be separated again.”
“Amara,” she said, instantly serious. “You have helped free us all. You are owed loyalty as well.”
I could not form words. Another pair of hoofbeats approached.
“What are you doing here?” Archer said, staring over at Damien on a steed.
“Better both of us are there to protect her.” Damien sighed, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth to spur the horse ahead of me.
Emotion collected in my throat.
Branwen touched my leg. “Please be careful.”
I set my hand on hers and gripped. She retreated. Before I turned into a blubbering fool, I kicked my heel into the side of the horse and she took off at a gallop.
“He is going to slaughter all of us,” Damien murmured conversationally, trotting up beside me.
“Then he should not have taught me how to ride.”
I pressed my horse harder.
Riding stretched on for dawnlight rotations. Long, grueling dawnlight rotations that exhausted me, yet I persisted.
The smell of searing meat came first. Embers of a fire set the straw of a roof aflame. Half the home collapsed into itself. Dead bodies half-eaten with maggots writhing inside the flesh lay along the path.
“Look at the estate,” Archer called.
“Fuck.” Damien rode up and stopped beside the Hollow-shredded corpse.
The estate was the worst of it. Ordinarily, they had the least damage since the Elite had access to amulets. Poverty-stricken areas tended to utilize salt barriers surrounding their homes since it was cheaper for larger amounts.
A blaze seared across my throat. I lost hold of the reins, and the mare neighed, dancing in place. I found my face plastered to her mane, my arms spread along either side.
“What is it?” Archer barked, riding closer. I groaned, pressing my palm into the sides of the horse’s sweaty coat. I pushed upright and Damien’s eyes widened.
“The Sigils are gone,” Damien breathed.
I palmed my neck and immediately stopped from the soreness that radiated.
Pyria, the blueblood with the marking ability, had died.
During the banquet she had made it clear she did not know how to remove the mark.
The woman seemed just as trapped by the circumstances.
A small wave of regret drowned under determination.
I turned away from the body-riddled grounds and pressed my heel into the side of the horse I rode to prod it faster.
The Kingdom of Sycarious was near.