Chapter 5 #2
This time I let ice claw over my own expression. I dredged up the horrible memories of being a passenger in my own body. I pretended that white magic still filled me, and that I was cold and unfeeling and ruthless in my goal to conquer.
Tyran lowered his hand. Anger flashed in his gaze; then he gestured down the hall. “They’re waiting for us.”
They’re. Athira was one of the new council members. Who were the other lucky demons?
I bet not a single one wanted the position.
Tyran walked behind me, and I clung to iciness.
He believed my actions were a result of his white magic and in keeping with his agenda, but he really didn’t like the lack of control over my choices. I was like another white demon strutting around the fortress, and Tyran wanted to be the smartest demon in the village.
I entered the war room ahead of him and found Athira in my usual seat.
“Move,” I said.
She smirked. “No.”
Well, she knew the deal. I had a guise to maintain.
Walking to join her, I summoned one of her daggers into my palm, and battered away her own slicing swing to bury the dagger in her thigh.
She glared at me. Glared. No scream or tears. What the fuck was this woman made of?
“Move,” I repeated.
Athira ripped the dagger out, then after another glare, she hobbled to a seat on Carmine’s right. The other war councilors—all appearing nervous for some strange reason—switched their seats to accommodate her new position at the table.
I sat opposite Carmine, then assessed the three other demons in the room.
They were all from Carmine’s army. All in commanding positions. All reds. One was under one hundred years. One was Darthy’s father. Another was an older demon. Not as old as Tsee had been—but older than Athira.
“Mate-intended.” The eldest stood to bow. “I am Gu.”
Gu. Demon names that mimicked ridiculous human items still got me from time to time. Especially because this goo was centuries old. I grinned and dipped my head. “Gu.”
Darthy’s father stood. “Queen Syera, I am—”
“She is not queen yet. Address her as mate-intended.” Carmine didn’t look up from the map of the coven.
Insecure, Tyran?
My lips curved, and I answered the floundering demon. “I don’t need to know your name. I’ll call you Darthy’s father.”
He paled. Considering recent events, the reaction was understandable.
The last and youngest stood and squeaked, “I-I am Hiub.”
I laughed. Fuck, this was gonna be good.
“Is something the matter, mate?” Carmine looked down the stone table at me.
“You’d do better with yellows than with this lot.” Crimsons and reds weren’t dumb. In fact, they usually held an inherent understanding of all things fighting and war because they had natural instincts that anticipated what an enemy might do.
I had to hand it to the reds and crimsons in the fortress. They had learned somewhat of how to navigate the politics of this place against all odds, and their scale-color genetics. Probably because this place was filled with other reds and crimsons.
If yellows, whites, and oranges were still in the fortress, they’d run political rings around the rest of us.
They perceived war, too, and so much else.
Intent. Tone. Posture. Motive. Potential action.
Powerful demons were focused on the next few moves.
The more cunning of our race were looking twenty, fifty, and one hundred moves in advance.
If yellows and oranges had been part of the old war council, I never would’ve gotten away with half my lies. That was if they’d felt safe to voice their opinions.
Carmine’s focus bored into my face. “You think so?”
I really did. Which Tyran would also think, so that worked in my favor.
Where we parted ways was that I didn’t believe in his whole “create the perfect demon” agenda.
Two demons could each hold a different set of strengths and skills.
They could work together, bringing their different skill sets, while in control of their own bodies.
Both demons could be respected for their unique abilities.
They didn’t need to be merged.
“Sure do,” I answered.
Carmine—Tyran—watched me a moment longer, then glanced around the table.
“It becomes increasingly clear that the bond between the leaders must be broken. Instead of attempting to conquer an entire race or territory in a battle, we will shift our strategy to eliminating one set of leaders. We are well aware that the other races suffer the most turmoil during a change of leadership. That is how we established the gates in their territories in the first place. In the resulting confusion of a change of leader, we will press our advantage.”
Athira said, “They will react differently now that they’ve uncovered the gates and our presence. Swiftly.”
“Yes,” he replied. “But we can still assume a short period of confusion.”
Athira nodded, and Hiub quickly did the same.
“Which leader should we start with?” Carmine focused attention on me again.
But Gu replied, “The coven leader is the strongest. Magus are also the most adaptable species. If we kill their leaders last, then they’ll notice our strategy and take measures to limit the effect to the coven.”
Not bad, Gu.
Wrong answer though.
Darthy’s father said, “The Vissimo king is an easier target. He isn’t the weakest or strongest, and his people have recently changed leadership. Another change in leadership would come as an extra shock. They’ll be doubly vulnerable.”
Also not a bad answer.
Wrong again.
Hiub’s eyes widened as she realized her time had come. “The Luther. Not the male. The female.”
Hiub was the smartest one here. She hadn’t said Sascha. She’d specified Andie. Andie was the glue of the alliance.
Sascha was glue, too, between the males. Andie was glue between everyone. Taking either of them out would have a large effect, not just amongst their pack and with their mate, but in the larger alliance.
Athira sighed, and I chuckled.