Chapter 56
Kyor orders Astrid and the other guards forward to bolster my position, offering protection for their princess.
But as much as I appreciate it, there are only a fraction as many of them as there are Morathkians, and I have no intention of letting anyone lay down their life for me unless it’s absolutely necessary.
Unfortunately, I have a horrible feeling it might be.
The Morathkians spread out as they enter, moving to the tree-covered area where the guards stood when we first passed through the pyrrhic nearly a moon ago. Men, women, and wolves … it’s an endless cascade of warriors and knights.
‘Looks like time’s up, Princess,’ Ranveeg hisses, although the comment feels rich coming from her. She’s tried to tourniquet the nick, but it’s already soaked through, and her pale skin is greying as life seeps from her body.
‘Kyor, how many are there?’ I whisper.
‘Two, maybe three hundred? But they’re not stopping yet. More are coming through.’
He’s right. They’re piling onto the ledge, trying to push us back, but that’s not going to happen.
Kyor glances at me between bellowing orders to Astrid and her team. ‘Any chance you can slow them down a little?’
‘I can try something,’ I say uncertainly, only for one of the Issen to speak out.
‘We’ve got this, Princess,’ she remarks. ‘Hold on.’
The woman utters something to the other Issen, and the entire group falls into line, their postures perfect replicas of one another with their hands raised.
‘Are they combining magics?’ I whisper to Kyor, still aware of the encroaching Morathkians.
‘Yeah, seen them do it in battle. It’s fucking—’
Whatever Kyor was going to say, I don’t hear it. Instead, my hands fly to my ears as a bellow tears through the air, so loud it feels like the earth is rupturing.
And that’s exactly what’s happening. The ground in front of the pyrrhic splits as a wall goes up, sealing off the Morathkians on the other side.
‘Okay, that’s a help,’ I mutter, glancing at the Issen.
Their perfect posture is gone now, with several slumped forward, hands on their knees as they attempt to steady themselves, including Astrid, whose breath comes in heavy wheezes.
No wonder I haven’t seen them do it before.
It’s draining. Severely so. Which means whatever’s coming next, they’re not going to be able to use anything big to help us.
As useful as the wall is at keeping out any more Morathkians, it has also trapped the several hundred who already passed through on the ledge with us.
‘So now what?’ I whisper, fighting the urge to glance behind me and see if the Torailians and other Issen are on their way. I don’t want to give away that there are more of us en route.
‘Now, I’m going to try to reason with my men,’ Kyor says, drawing himself up to his full height. But before he strides forward, he leans down to whisper in my ear, ‘Just hold off doing anything crazy, all right, Thorn? We’ve still got a chance to stop it escalating.’
Heeding his words, I step back a fraction and let him take centre stage, walking right up to Ranveeg, who has collapsed to the ground, the pool of blood around her continuing to expand. Rather than looking at the prince, she tilts her head so that her eyes meet mine.
I see the knowledge in those bright white irises, alongside the hate, resentment, and fury.
She’s dying, and she knows it.
‘Fuck you,’ she gasps with her last breath. With a strangled noise, her chest freezes, and I watch as the light within her eyes fades for good.
I do not regret her death, but I do feel sorrow for Brida. I’ve lost my mother. I know how it hurts.
For a beat, I can picture Ruben next to me, flashing a grin and readying a flame, preparing to charge into battle, and that just about kills me. There has been far too much loss.
A crack of thunder sounds, the sky above darkening with a flare of green, and I watch as all eyes turn up to it.
Greyness colours the faces of several of the Morathkians. They know exactly who has caused the change in the weather.
‘My knights, my people, my subjects,’ Kyor speaks clearly, his voice resounding, amplified by the walls of the ravine.
‘You have been called here today for a lie. You have been called to capture Rose Kultavaris as if she is a risk to the Morathkians. She is not a risk. It is the High Priestess you should fear. As your prince, I am telling you – ordering you – to retreat now. Do so and none will have to suffer the consequences of your actions today.’
‘Suffer the consequences of our actions?’ One of the Morathkians laughs, the noise high-pitched and nasal. ‘You are the ones who must suffer the consequences of your actions. Your father will not be happy with you, Prince Kyor.’
My stomach tightens because I know he’s right. If Korvane hated me before, he will surely despise me now. Worse, his son has discovered Isthyr, and the lies he told.
No, Korvane will not be happy.
The Morathkian officer continues, pointing at me, hatred twisting his features into something truly ugly. ‘This woman is an abomination. Issen blood is in her veins.’
What the fuck? My knees threaten to buckle.
Until this moment, I believed the only people who knew of my Issen heritage, who weren’t within the boundaries of Issen, were people I could trust. My siblings.
Jonas. Dinah. That was it. Others knowing puts William at a whole new level of risk.
Even Kay, without any markings or Issen magic, isn’t safe now. Not while these soldiers live.
I look to Kyor but his back is to me. And what do I expect him to do? Kill hundreds of his own men to protect my sister?
I can’t ask that of him, but nor can I risk Kay’s life.
‘The prince is right. You have been lied to.’ Uzra steps forward from behind me.
He and more Morathkian knights than I ever realised lived in Isthyr, each with their wolf at their side, have come to defend it.
‘Rose is not your enemy. Learn from one who saw the error in his ways before it was too late. There is nothing here you need. Go back to your lives. To your families. Live to see another day.’
‘It is General Uzra.’ The whispers echo around the ravine.
‘—alive all this time.’
‘—General Uzra? Impossible!’
Kyor was right to bring Uzra to this fight. If nothing else, it is certainly adding confusion and slowing things down.
‘Let me make this clear,’ Kyor continues, every inch the warrior prince, ‘any hint of force towards Rose or me – or any Issen warrior here – will be seen as an act of violence, and I will respond accordingly.’
Thunder rolls above us, and several of the Morathkians exchange uncertain glances.
‘I know you believe I will not hurt my own men.’ Kyor looks between them as he speaks.
‘And until this day, that has been true, but as a prince I stand on the side of what is right and good, and I will stand against anyone who goes against that. Now, you still have a chance to do the right thing. Leave this place. Refuse to do the bidding of a twisted priestess and her puppet king. If not, then the consequences are on your heads, not mine.’
My heart throbs. To denounce his father like this … it’s treason. Ice swirls, drifting up around the men’s ankles like settled smoke as a brief silence settles.
This pause, this is them thinking about it. Considering it. I don’t know what it means for my siblings, but if we can get through this without bloodshed, it has to be the choice I take.
Kyor also appears to sense that his words have reached his men, as the ferocity of his clouds decreases.
One of the Morathkian knights steps forward.
‘I’m willing to live with the consequences,’ he says with a half-laugh, raising his hand and looking directly at me. ‘Kill the abomination!’
My body freezes as I prepare for whatever magic he’s going to assault me with, but instead I hear a whistle slide through the air, and as his palms open to loose his magic, his eyes widen and his gaze slips down to his chest.
A feathered shaft of an arrow protrudes from his chest.
A Torailian arrow.
It could have been the end of it all, but the knight’s wolf lets out a howl and leaps forward. The answering roar of the other Morathkian soldiers is instantaneous, bouncing off the cliffs with a resonance hard enough to shake snow from them.
They surge forward.
I hear Uzra and Kyor’s voices as they call commands to the Issen guards, who have ice spears ready in their hands.
They strike and throw in formation, while those who still possess enough power fling ice shards through the sky, but the Morathkians wield so many different forms of magic that it’s hard to know where to fight first, with wind battering us and fire hurtling through the air.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see other Issen entering the fray – Ylva with her flails swinging straight into the stomach of one of the invading Morathkians – but the Issen coming to help us are surely marching to their deaths.
I can’t let that happen.
The gnashing snarl of wolves comes from every direction. Uzra’s wolf and several other bonded wolves leap into the fray. Beast clashes with beast, teeth tearing into fur-covered throats and swiftly extinguishing the lives of the Morathkian animals – and eventually their bonded along with them.
All are doing their part, and the sky is full of ice, wind, and fire. But I know I can do more. I have to do more.
As I stab another Morathkian knight with my ice sword, I spot the trees we passed under on our arrival. They’re just within my magic’s reach, and though there are only a few, it’s all I need.
With a twist of my wrist, roots erupt from the ground, sending dozens of Morathkians tumbling off their feet.
Duck, Little Raven! Fen’s voice screams into my head as a second later he leaps over me, his jaws sinking into the necks of the warriors one after another.
I feel the anguish that floods him as he kills those around him. These are men he has fought alongside, knights he might have known, and by killing them he has killed their wolves, too.