Chapter 57 #2
He shakes his head. ‘Rose, with numbers like that… It’s not even the Rottings you saw that we have to worry about.
It’s the people trying to fight them. They’ll get scratched, bitten.
Turned. They’ll triple their numbers in a matter of days, if not sooner.
We’d need an army to even try to get through them, and in case you haven’t noticed, the Morathkians aren’t too keen on being led by me anymore. ’
He gestures to the bodies surrounding us, but I don’t bother looking at them, too distracted by another thought that’s forming.
‘If your army won’t fight with us, then we’ll find an army that will.’
I look back down at Isthyr. It continues to glisten, pristine and perfect in its stillness, but how long will it stay like that? Not for long, not if I can’t protect it. The Rottings are moving north. How far will they go? How long until they get here?
‘Aulia!’ I shout out, although silence is all that meets me. ‘Aulia, where are you?’
She is wounded, Fen tells me.
Badly?
Unfortunately, he sniffs, I think she will survive.
I understand his disdain for the Torailian after how she treated him, but we don’t have time for petty squabbles anymore. If we don’t come together, it will all be for nothing anyway.
‘This is it,’ I say softly, looking around at the destruction and horror surrounding me.
‘This is the Last Prophecy. The Great War.’ I turn to Kyor, whose attention is once again fixed on me.
‘They’ll fight with me. The Torailians. They’ll fight with me, and the Issen too.
I’m a princess. I’m Skakka. Torailians and Issen, and whatever Morathkians you can rally against the Rottings. That’ll up our odds, right?’
‘Substantially.’ He nods.
‘Then we need to hurry,’ I say.
It’s only when I climb on Fen’s back and feel him wince that I realise my wolf is in pain.
You’re hurt, I say, and I begin to climb back off.
Stay, he murmurs, and it’s the soft pleading in his voice that makes me pause. He needs me close too. Took a hit from a fire-wielder, he says. Nothing too severe.
My heart throbs. Fen was wounded fighting in a battle for me, and I hate it. You must go to the healers. They have cream that works on humans. It’ll likely work on your skin too.
You’re right, he says. Though perhaps you should come with me? I’m not sure they will typically have a wolf turning up on that doorstep. There is a sly edge to his voice, like he’s trying to trick me into attending the healers so I can also be seen.
He needs no such trickery though. My muscles burn and my head throbs.
Don’t worry, I’m going straight to the healers too.
Fen goes as fast as he can down the ravine and into the city, but it’s slower than I want, and I hate myself for the frustration I feel.
It’s not his fault he’s wounded, but my mind refuses to leave Galreck, refuses to forget those images of the Rottings staggering out from the forest. Kyor and Elska remain close on our heels, neither of them willing to let their mates out of sight right now.
There are thousands of people in the city of Galreck, I try to remind myself, and it’s not like when we fought them in the forest. There will be no Myrkr to siphon their powers, and with everyone’s magics combined, they should be able to hold off the Rottings while the weaker and vulnerable escape north.
But for how long?
Long enough for us to get there? It took us over a quarter of a moon to get from Galreck to Isthyr, but that wasn’t exactly a smooth journey, what with us rescuing Fen, fighting the Torailians, and Stide’s death.
At least I know that two of those issues can’t possibly happen again, and I have no intention of losing anyone else.
All things considered, it should be one heck of a lot faster getting back. I just hope it’s fast enough.
‘Rose!’ Benny, face grey, races towards me from outside the palace. ‘Thank fuck you’re okay!’
‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ I tell him with a groan as I ease myself off Fen. ‘But the city, the city is fine?’
‘Yeah, I mean, there was a big fucking landslide when your boyfriend brought down half the mountain, but we’d already moved people from the pyrrhic side, so yeah, other than that, all good.’
‘Great, because things are about to get even worse. Now, I need you to gather the others – and Magnus – and get to the throne room.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘I just have to take a quick trip to the healers,’ I tell him.
Worry flashes on his face as he scans me up and down, but I shake my head.
‘Don’t worry, I’m fine. Just find everyone, okay?’
‘Yeah, sure. Though if you’re looking for the injured, they were taken to the library. Makeshift ward. More room and all that.’
‘Thank you,’ I say.
As he slips into the palace, Fen and I twist around to head to the library.
I give myself a beat to consider matters as I turn to Kyor. ‘Are there any Morathkians you trust completely?’ I ask him. ‘Like Zelle, people you know would never turn their backs on you. That Mila definitely couldn’t get her claws into?’
He presses his lips together. ‘Yeah. A couple. Like Ryne. They would follow me through fire, and I’d do the same for them. No question.’
‘Good. And they’re on the front line?’
‘Some will be.’
‘Then you need to get word to them. Maybe ask Toren or—’
‘I’ll go.’
The voice trembles so faintly, I’m not even sure I’ve heard it, but as I twist around, I see her standing there. Her eyes are bloodshot, but her shoulders are pushed back and her jaw is set.
‘Brida,’ I whisper, taking a step towards her.
She flinches, recoiling from me. ‘She did this. My mother put all of Isthyr at risk. There’s no point in pretending. The others already told me.’
‘Brida, I’m sorry,’ I start, but she laughs, cold and harsh. She looks as though she’s about to shatter into a thousand pieces.
‘You are not the one who needs to apologise here, Princess. Not for anything. Is she dead? I hope she is. She deserves to be. A traitor to Isthyr.’ She trembles with contained fury, but there’s also fear in her quivering gaze.
Fear that she will be tarnished by her mother’s actions? Not on my watch.
‘I’m sorry, Brida. But yes, she’s dead,’ I say. I don’t add that it was at my hands.
There will be time enough for that confession later, when it can be handled with tact.
She stiffens, but in an instant any emotion is gone, replaced by something far more focused.
‘You need to get a message to your Morathkians at the front line,’ she says, looking solely at Kyor. ‘Let me be the one to take it. Let me do this for you. I’ll get the priestesses to spell my eyes, and without lace upon my face, I can darken my hair and pass as Morathkian.’
Kyor’s gaze shifts to me, doubt clouding his features.
‘We can trust her,’ I tell him. ‘I trust her.’
Brida’s eyes meet mine, and though there’s no light or smile within them, there’s something else. Acceptance. Agreement. Maybe even the first sparks of loyalty.
‘You two sort it out between yourselves. I trust you to do what’s necessary.’
‘And you, Thorn?’ Kyor questions. ‘Where are you going?’
My lungs quiver as uncertainty threatens to take hold, but I push it down. Just like them, I have to do what’s necessary for us to survive. ‘I need to speak to Aulia. I need to learn what this damn prophecy says.’