Chapter 44
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Death comes for the snake and its books. Hurry.
Ezrich and Evony’s reunion should have brought tears to my eyes. But that delicate, soft part of me crouched beneath a wall of steel-lined shields. There was no choice. To fight for what mattered, to bear the scars of the decisions I made, those I’d yet to make, there was no room for it.
I left the brother and sister embracing in the courtyard, with Tiberius standing guard over Evony only a few strides away, before storming into the makeshift war room at the prison.
Lieutenant Einar threw me a disgusted glare as I swung the doors open, interrupting the six men who sat around the table, deep in discussion.
Ronan’s eyes shot to mine. His light brows pinched in reproach. “How can we help you, Lyvia?”
I slid my gaze back to Einar, ignoring Astraeus entirely, who sat in the corner, one ankle crossed over the other. I could feel his insufferable smirk from across the room as he took in my disheveled look.
I’d spent one more night on the cliffs with Evony, attempting to communicate with Gork, who seemed to be the leader of the little army of beasts. From what I could glean, the Stone Witch was gone, and with my assurance Evony would remain safe, Gork would allow the Rising forces to pass through.
My eyes locked on Einar. “Who was the commanding officer of the first scouting party sent to Skyscape Pass?”
He glanced at Ronan before turning back to me. “Their captain was with them, he reported to Tertius.”
“Where would I find Tertius?”
Einar stood, frowning at me. “And why would you need that information?”
I cocked my head. “Your men are dead, and your captain is to blame, as he allowed them to steal from and attempt to take advantage of a young girl. A sixteen-year-old girl. I’d have a word with his superior.”
Einar’s throat bobbed as Ronan swore, letting out an aggravated sigh.
“I don’t trust her speaking to any of my men without supervision. She’s dangerous.” Einar jabbed a thick finger at me from across the room as a smile played on my lips.
Yes, I was dangerous. Dangerous when I was angry. And my blood raged.
Ronan sighed. “For fuck’s sake.” He scanned the map in front of him, eyeing all the little pieces representing Rising and Sultiran forces, scattered across the battlements like pieces of a mehena board.
My eyes drifted to the fifty pawns in the southern part of the Crimson Sea.
“I’ll accompany her,” Astraeus crooned from the corner.
My jaw ached as my molars scraped against each other.
“I’ll find Vulcan or Nis,” I said to Ronan.
“Vulcan and Nerissa are in the village training a fearsome group of ladies,” Astraeus purred from behind as he sauntered over.
Ronan’s brows pinched, as if in apology. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
I left without a word. Astraeus kept pace with me at an annoying level of ease until I threw open the doors to the mess room, where a group of commanding officers sat at small tables.
Astraeus crossed his arms, leaning against the wall as I strode to the center of the room, letting my eyes simmer and darkness flood my veins.
“Tertius?” I called to the group.
While nobody said a word, several eyes shot to a portly man to my left. I sent a ribbon of darkness spearing through the room, a thick, black snake with golden eyes forming as it coiled around him, squeezing tightly.
“Your men are dead,” I seethed as silence cleaved the room. “The captain leading your men sent to Skyscape Pass decided their fate when he allowed ill-begotten behavior to take place.”
I envisioned those terrifying moments in the festival tents at the Sun Dance celebration all those years ago as I let the snake tighten, my power a steady stream. The commanding officer’s face reddened. A gasp sounded from behind, followed by a quiet snicker as Carina and Kresida arrived.
“Let me make this very clear,” I said, turning to the rest of the commanding officers in the mess room.
“Theft. Pillaging. Rape…” I let the last word dangle in the air, my eyes glowing a fierce shade of orange.
“Will not be tolerated. You burn… You pillage… You hurt a single civilian in this war, in our march to Aedrialis, and I will turn you all to ash.”
A sigh escaped my lips as I inhaled the leather, cedar, and grassy scent of hay.
The stables were quiet when I stepped inside to inspect the herd of agrippa war horses.
Eighty or so grazed on dying grass in the neighboring fields, makeshift pastures lined with branch fences.
Another fifty were stalled. The unruly ones, I noted, as I strode down the aisle, most of them stomping, flattening their ears or snapping their teeth through the bars.
A handful of stallions, but mostly mares.
Fierce and fearsome. I stopped at a particularly angry one, who charged the door as I stood near its bars.
Part agrippa, part mountain horse, I realized, scanning her grey coat and the dappled spots on her flank.
The whites of her eyes flashed through her dark gray forelock as she stared me down, the intent in her gaze more promise than threat.
I allowed the burning orange to flash in my own…
I dare you.
She charged once more, fearless and wild.
A long whip sat next to her stall, and the burning in my eyes flashed. I picked it up, eyes sliding to the mare. Her rage simmered. I sent a kernel of Obscura into my hand and let the darkness devour the whip, falling into a little pile of ash on the stone floor.
I reached for the rope halter and lead before sliding the stall door open.
The mare’s eyes widened, and she tensed, ready to charge.
I willed my heart to calm, the long-forgotten thrill of training a fire-spirited agrippa returning to my veins.
I held my ground as I slowly lifted my free hand to her, closing a fist. She blinked, remaining where she was, tense and angry.
I waited.
Ten bloody minutes.
My arm began to shake, my shoulder burning until finally, finally the pigheaded mare took a tentative step forward and reached a velvety nose to my outstretched fist, close enough for her whisker to brush my knuckle.
I dropped my arm and waited a moment as she heaved a sigh and began to lick and chew, shaking her head.
I stepped back, slowly sliding the stall door shut as I blew a sigh of my own. I jumped, turning to find Vulcan at the entrance of the stables.
“Aelius save me, Vulcan,” I breathed. “Elves and your fucking stealth. I nearly turned you to a pile of ash.”
Vulcan’s lips twitched. “These agrippa need work,” he murmured as I stepped toward him.
“That’s an understatement,” I scoffed.
“Lieutenant Einar says most of the forces here are either criminals or survivors from tribute towns. They hate Sultiran soldiers and anything that represents them, including the agrippa.”
My jaw tightened as I thought of the whip. “One of the many things that will need to change before we march on Aedrialis,” I murmured.
“Indeed,” Vulcan agreed.
His eyes slid to me, and I waited for him to chastise me for my actions from an hour ago. Word must have gotten out by now.
“I’ll be in the sparring ring when you’re ready,” he said before peeling away.
I leaped backward, slapping Vulcan’s forearm away, my boots sliding on the muddy ground as he threw a second jab, catching me in the ribs. I chucked my knee up as he advanced, knocking it aside with his thigh as he caught me in the ribs once more before throwing me to the ground.
Fast. They were so fucking fast. I would never be able to match their speed. Vulcan pressed an ink-covered forearm against my throat, pushing the air out, before I finally tapped his shoulder twice. The ribbons of scars and splotchy ink that lined his face were healed and opaque.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
His brows pinched for a moment. “For?”
I looked pointedly at the side of his ruined face.
Vulcan rolled his eyes. “You apologize too much. I’ve had worse injuries,” he murmured, standing and offering me a hand.
I reached for it, popping up to my feet and rubbing my ribs. “Astraeus is an asshole. So is Raek,” I said, adjusting my stance to prepare for his next advance.
“Raek was following orders,” Vulcan murmured, as he slid his foot against the mud, getting the best grip he could.
“You’re defending him after what he did on the Hydra?” I asked.
Vulcan leaped to the side. I scooted around him, following the dance steps that had become as natural to me as riding.
“You would have done the same if someone had attacked Bayne the way I went at Astraeus,” he said as I parried his blows, flying around the muddy ring.
I blinked.
“Oh, my gods,” I panted. “You’re right. I didn’t really notice it before, but…the way he looks at him.”
Vulcan nodded. My stomach twisted as a question formed in my mind. Would I have done the same? I hadn’t really examined my own feelings, to come to terms with the thread that had slowly begun to unravel…
“Astraeus doesn’t feel the same,” I said, pulling away from my thoughts and dodging a few more attacks.
Vulcan shook his head and arched back in an unnatural angle as I spun into a kick I was certain would land at his ribs.
I tripped, the momentum of my miss sending me slipping into the mud, before I caught my balance and got my feet under me.
Vulcan opened his mouth as Ronan’s voice boomed from the prison.
“Cantor!” he bellowed, his voice ripe with a level of rage and authority I’d yet to hear from the ex-queensguard.
“Good luck,” Vulcan murmured as he reached for his jacket hung on a nearby post.
I schooled my features before turning to Ronan, whose face was as red as the crimson border of the white cloak he used to don.
“What in Tynan’s Hell is wrong with you?” he seethed as he hopped over the fence and strode over to me.
I pulled my gaze to my bloody and muddy hands as I unwrapped the strips of wet fabric, balling them up and sticking them in my pocket.
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, Merik,” I said in the most innocent voice I could muster.
“Lyvia,” he said, leveling a deadly stare, his sapphire eyes gleaming with wrath. “You threatened fifty of my commanding officers. They are on our side.”
“If they are your commanding officers,” I said, keeping my voice soft and sweet, “then you get them in line, Commander.”
“I was in a strategic briefing! You don’t think I’m going to address shit behavior like that? You didn’t even give me a chance. Leash your anger or get the fuck out of this prison. Stop acting like an animal.”
I resisted the urge to bristle. “Speaking of animals,” I said, glancing at the stables. “We need to talk about their treatment of the agrippa.”
Ronan looked up to the sky as he groaned. “Burning Aelius, Lyvia. For fuck’s sake—”
“They’ve been mistreated, Ronan,” I cut in, unable to keep my temper from slipping. “You want this battalion of criminals and country folk to ride to battle on the most fearsome equines in the Realm of Vael. They need to be trained. All of them.”
Ronan threw his arms to the side in defeat. “Fine, fine. Train the damn horses. Do whatever you need to do to keep that temper in check.”
I blinked at him. “I’m not talking about training the horses,” I snapped.
Ronan rolled his eyes. “Fine. We’ll work on that. We’ll work on the men. I’ve got enough shit to sort through to prepare us to march through Skyscape Pass if we’re going to try to leave in two weeks. Keep your temper and your powers in check, Lyvia. Or you’re staying on the Hydra from now on.”
“Like hell I am!” I fumed as Ronan left without another word.