Chapter 58
JO
The final horn signaling retreat sounds right as we make it to Maile’s base camp in the valley west of the city.
It’s nearing dusk. Soldiers who were closer to the back line are already resting with food and water.
Healers have a tent set up for casualties to be brought in, and that’s where Acker goes to deposit the six-foot man draped over his shoulder.
He heaves him onto a cot. When he tells one of the women to strap him down, he sends a look at me, daring me to say otherwise, and I keep my mouth firmly shut.
“Jo!”
I spin in place at the sound of Raina’s voice. I spot her pinned hair a few cots down. The healer is tending to a soldier sitting on the cot before her, face contorted in pain as she places her hands where a sword must have went straight through his shoulder joint, sweat coating her brow.
She yells over the broken sounds of the injured and shouting from the other healers. “Your father was just in here looking for you!”
I nod my understanding and turn for the tent’s opening.
Fredrich and Zion both fall in step beside Acker and I when we emerge into the growing frenzy of the camp.
Soldiers come and go, searching for something or somebody, the chaos of the battle still lingering in their expressions.
There’s no reprieve yet. We removed our siege ladders from the west walls, but the sound of the trolls tearing down the stone and iron barrier echoes down the valley toward us.
It won’t take long for Wren’s army to reorganize and descend on us.
Through the throng of soldiers, my eyes land on General Samasu’s, and within a split second he’s standing before me. “Jovinnia,” he says on an exhale.
And I’m unprepared for his embrace or the might at which he squeezes me.
My relationship with Sam has grown differently since my return to Maile, especially in comparison to mine and my mother’s.
It’s been slower, but steady. While I’ve never doubted his care for me, his affection is typically displayed in the form of his guidance and acts of service.
Protection, even. But if there was ever a seedling of doubt that he didn’t love me as if I was his true daughter, it’s dispelled in this instant.
Then it’s over.
He pulls away, his expression calm as he returns to business. “The munitions are being moved as we speak.”
“Where’s mother?”
“Getting the new front line situated.” His gaze skates over the men at my side, eyes locking on Fredrich, specifically, before moving over to Acker.
He holds out his hand in greeting.
Acker looks at Sam’s outstretched hand, with puzzlement on his face at the Alaha greeting before he accepts the gesture.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says, and I can practically see the wheels turning in his mind as he looks Sam in the eyes.
“Although, I wish it were under better circumstances.”
“In which aspect,” Sam challenges, dropping Acker’s hand. “The battle or the abduction of my daughter?”
I shoot him an exasperated glare, but Acker takes it in good nature. “You know what? You choose.”
The stern set of Sam’s features doesn’t waver. “I’ll decide after we win this battle. Why don’t you go help Evelyn while I have a discussion with my daughter.”
It’s not a question, but an order, rather. And the last time Sam tried to take me from Acker’s presence, Acker didn’t take to it too kindly.
But any momentary worry I had dissipates at the feel of the kiss Acker places at my temple. “Come find me,” he says, dipping a chin in farewell to Sam as he turns toward the city.
Zion is quick to follow, but Fredrich, on the other hand, hesitates. “General, if I could have a moment,” he says with a remarkable amount of courage. “I’d like to make an apology.”
Sam looks at Fredrich with cold indifference. “If my daughter is fine with you under her command, then so be it,” he says. “But you will never serve under me again.”
My jaw goes slack at the harshness of Sam’s words, the finality of that statement after the years Fredrich spent under Sam’s command, the comradery and trust they built. My head swivels to Fredrich, my friend, and watch as he accepts Sam’s decision with a solemn nod.
“Understood,” he says. His eyes flick over mine as he turns to meet Zion and Acker who stopped to wait for him.
When I look at Sam, he gives a single shake of his head. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ll understand one day that forgiveness doesn’t come as easy when someone wrongs your children.”
The ground rumbles underneath our feet, sending a wave of fret over the camp right before what sounds like an explosion like none other reaches us from the east. My gaze whips in the direction of the city, but I’m unable to actually see the devastation from where I am standing in the middle of camp.
“Jo, listen,” Sam says, grabbing me by the shoulders until I look at him. “If I know anything about Wren, it’s that he only pursues what he believes is a sure victory. He’s going to move forward hard, and you’re going to want to pull back, but don’t. Not until I give you the signal, okay?”
I nod, letting out a shaky breath. “Can you go check on Beau at the palace?”
He lets me go. “Yes, but you need to go to your men. They’re scared. Give them the strength they need to stare death in the face.”
With that, he disappears.
Another rumble trembles underfoot and men dart past me, weapons in hand as they make toward the frontline.
My hair floats around my face as I look back to the east once again, and I suddenly remember I’m supposed to be cold.
Not that I feel it as the wind scores across the land, the tents around me rattling from the force.
Something I know should hurt but feels featherlight and cool against my balmy cheeks.
Tiny specks of white dance in the wind and I look up, watching as snow begins to fall.
Maybe this is the moment my mother told me would always come, when I would finally adapt to the cold.
I make my way through the camp and to the front line.
Once outside the line of camp, I’m able to set my sights on the back line.
The soldiers see me, shifting to make room, silence spreading through the horde of men.
Torches are held intermittently, lighting the way.
Their faces are set, hands clutching their swords and shields.
Some of them have the stirrings of an eternal stare and I swallow from the realization that the men in front of me may not last long in the battle coming.
I’m reminded of Queen Asa. The battles she led, the men who died under her crown.
She’s depicted as a ruler who wanted total control, to knock the leaders from their neighboring thrones.
The very same men who would later pass their titles to their children.
To Edmond and Osiris, and I wonder if she was fighting the same fight I am right now, trying to defend—not just her own people—but all people.
That maybe the strength of her gift as a Light Wielder only fed the narratives of the men who feared her, including her own lover.
I follow the tether, knowing it will lead me.
And when the final mass of men part, I get a glimpse of Acker rallying the soldiers, Fredrich and Zion are doing the same, shaking the life back into the worn men.
Physically and emotionally, offering words of encouragement.
Straightening their shields, making sure they keep their bodies protected.
Snowflakes land on the men’s hair and shoulders, even coating their eyelashes.
Acker straightens, his gaze meeting mine.
Fear like no other has my breath shuttering.
I don’t want to lose him when I’ve just gotten him back.
I’ve already lost my best friend. Messer was my family before I even knew what it meant to have any.
But there’s still my mother, my father. My friends.
Fredrich and Beau and even Zion. I didn’t get enough time with any of them to lose them now.
Wasn’t my time in Alaha without them penance enough for my wrongdoings?
Having to live without Messer’s cocky grin and jubilant laughter?
And it’s as if Acker can sense my thoughts because he places a hand against his chest, eyes soft as he watches me.
The men around him notice his shift in demeanor, heads swiveling as I step out of the crowd.
And once free of the front line, I have a clear view of the city’s destruction, the mass of army gearing up for another fight.
Wren thinks this is going to be an easy win.
In his eyes, he likely believes he already holds the keys to the territory.
The weight of the stares of the soldiers at my back has me readying my voice. “I’m tired,” I say, the truth evident as I face them. “Today was brutal. As was yesterday, and the day before that. And I know many of you are tired, too.”
My mother appears from the fray, a sword in her hand. I recognize it from her personal cache and she nods at me, an encouraging gesture. I already feel the stirrings of my magic awakening, heat spreading in my veins.
Taking a moment to look as many of them as I can in the eye, I continue, “I want you to know, you’re not fighting for me and you’re not fighting for Maile.
You’re not fighting for any territory for that matter.
You are fighting for yourselves. For your families and your loved ones, so that they don’t have to live under the rule of a man like Wren.
Or Edmond. Or Chryse. Where magic exists without shame or control. Today, we fight for us.”
I hold my sword high above my head, igniting it with my light, and shouts begin to erupt across the valley, a tidal wave of emotion that goes on for what feels like forever. I can feel their energy in my chest; in the air I breathe.