Chapter 39 #2
Dorias lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “You let them loose here, and we all die, Katell. Is that what you want? We both know you can’t control them.”
He was right. Whatever she was summoning was insatiable, a force far beyond her control, and it was draining her. Exhaustion pulled at her mind, but she would burn herself whole before she let Dorias walk away.
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” With the dagger, she gestured to the dozens of terrified Freefolk watching. “A risk they’re willing to take. Even you should remember what it’s like to be a slave. To have no control over your life. Over your death.”
“Fine.” He ground the words out through clenched teeth. “Stand down, and we’ll let the Freefolk go.”
Katell scoffed. “As if I’ll believe you—”
“Soldiers, set them free,” Dorias ordered, the steel in his voice cutting through the chaos.
Tarxi’s eyebrows shot up. “Dalmatius, what in Laran’s name are you doing—”
“The Emperor will understand,” Dorias cut him off. “Laran’s Chosen is worth more than all these slaves combined.”
The soldiers moved among the slaves, chains falling away from the Freefolk’s wrists.
Katell blinked. Was it another trick?
Dorias, already in motion, waved an officer over. “They’ll need supplies—blankets, food, a guide. Get the two Gifted healers. Tend to their injuries before they leave. Make it quick.”
The cohort leader, identifiable by the red armband marking his rank, nodded stiffly, though his gaze remained fixed on the lingering clawed hand.
Tarxi strode forward, incredulous, gesturing to the ominous black smoke. “Have you lost your mind? If you send them all away, there’s no reason for her to cooperate. She could wipe us all out.”
Katell’s chest tightened, each breath a struggle.
If she could have wiped out the entire First Legion—and Tarxi’s smug face along with it—she would’ve done so already.
She wanted them all to suffer for what they’d done to her people.
But the magic she’d summoned was bleeding her strength like water from a cracked jug, each drop bringing her closer to empty.
The clawed hand alone was a strain. Even if she summoned a demon, without the Tears to amplify her magic, it would break free of her control.
She couldn’t let them see weakness, though. Not now. The legates’ fear of the Makhai—and of her—was the only leverage she had to win the Freefolk’s freedom. She would play her part until her people were safe.
She squared her shoulders and ground her teeth against the burn of exhaustion in her limbs.
“You’re right,” Dorias replied, and the glint in his eye made her stomach knot. “Fortunately, I know Katell won’t risk the lives of her loved ones. Especially someone named… Leywani.”
Katell froze. Panic clawed at the edges of her resolve, but she forced her face into stillness. “She’s not here,” she lied, her pulse quickening. “She either never reached the camp… or was sent elsewhere.”
Dorias’ gaze sharpened, then flicked to the crowd behind her. “Arnza?”
Cold dread seeped into Katell’s gut. She twisted just in time to see Arnza lowering Pinaria to the ground. Their eyes met—guilt flickered across his features—then he shoved past the huddled Freefolk without a word.
And there Leywani was, standing against the nearest barrack, her bronze skin gleaming under the harsh sun. Strands of dark hair had slipped loose from her braid, framing a face Katell remembered all too well. She held herself straight, expression wary but unbowed.
Katell’s heart hammered in her chest.
No. She’d already lost Leywani once. This couldn’t be happening again.
“Arnza!” Her voice cracked, a broken plea that echoed through the arena.
His shoulders tightened, but he didn’t turn. Instead, he strode straight to Leywani and jerked his chin at the nearby soldiers.
Two men closed in, seizing Leywani with rough hands and dragging her to Dorias. She thrashed against them until cold steel pressed to her throat. The fight bled from her movements, replaced by a defiant stillness.
Rage blurred Katell’s vision. She moved forward, but Dorias raised a hand, stopping her mid-stride. “Stand down,” he said, his tone edged with quiet menace. “And nothing will happen to her.”
Katell locked in place, every muscle taut, her thoughts a whirling battlefield. Every instinct screamed at her to charge forward and unleash the full fury of the Makhai.
Then her gaze found Leywani. The trust in her friend’s eyes slammed into Katell. One reckless move, and Leywani would pay the price. A price Katell would never forgive herself for.
A sharp, trembling breath shuddered through her as she fought to quiet the chaos within. Bit by bit, she drew her magic back, wrestling down the furious voices clawing at her mind, each one hungry for blood.
The smoke dissipated, its violent tendrils retreating until only faint wisps hovered in the air, curling away like embers snuffed out. The oppressive magic lifted from the arena, and the soldiers’ relief rippled through the ranks.
Katell barely noticed. Her focus was fixed on Dorias. “If you harm her,” she said, each word like a dagger, “I will tear you apart. Limb by limb.”
Dorias tilted his head and gave a humourless smile. “So vicious, my love,” he murmured. “But rest assured, I’ll keep my word—so long as you keep your magic under control.”
Katell glared back but held her tongue. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a Gifted healer crouched beside Scylas, working on the gash in his side. As ordered, the other healer moved among the crowd, bandaging cuts and setting broken bones.
Next to the barracks, the Freefolk were being handed reins to horses, saddlebags bulging with supplies slung over their flanks. Most of the freed slaves took the reins without hesitation, eager to leave, but others hesitated, looking to Scylas to lead.
Katell stayed rooted, tracking every movement.
Dorias continued issuing crisp commands to his soldiers, tone edged with authority.
Two guards still held Leywani, their hands firm on her arms. Though the blade was gone from her throat, the threat lingered, and the sight of her so vulnerable made Katell’s stomach churn.
The Freefolk were on the brink of freedom. It should’ve been a moment of triumph, a glimmer of hope amid all the despair, but Katell couldn’t breathe. Her chest tightened, expecting betrayal. Soon, she was sure Dorias would reveal the ruse—a cold laugh, a flash of steel, the strike of a trap.
“It’s time.” Dorias glanced at her, expression unreadable. Then he barked, “Open the gates!”
The shrill sound of the gate swinging wide pierced the air.
The Freefolk, their horses restless and laden with supplies, headed for the gate.
Tarxi kept his distance, lips pressed into a thin line.
His dark eyes burned with anger, but he didn’t say a word.
Nearby, Romilda leaned against the dais, arms crossed and lips curling into a sneer.
Katell’s heart raced as she pressed closer to Leywani, her sword in hand. She couldn’t let her guard down—not yet. Dorias’ presence loomed beside her, calm yet threatening, as if he, too, didn’t trust her to keep her word.
Once the Freefolk neared the gate, they stalled, all eyes turning to Scylas. Their leader, freshly healed but still pale, stood with the reins of a chestnut horse in his hand. His jaw was set, posture rigid, but something guarded flickered in his eyes when he looked at Katell.
She sheathed her sword and strode towards him. “Go,” she urged in their Freefolk tongue. “Please, Scylas. Go.”
He hesitated, glancing at the soldiers hemming them in before meeting her gaze again. “What about you? They’ll kill you. You can’t fight them all—I saw what they were capable of.”
The irony wasn’t lost on her—she knew all too well what the Rasennans were capable of. For too long, she’d tried to justify their need for war to maintain peace, but it had all been a lie.
She stepped closer and cupped his face in her hands, his concern stirring something buried deep inside her. “Don’t worry about me,” she murmured. “I’ll find a way to survive. I always do. You—” She paused, her throat tightening. “You can return to the Freefolk Lands and rebuild.”
He shook his head. “I can’t protect them.”
“Yes, you can,” she insisted, offering him a weak smile. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. When you saw I was Gifted, you didn’t blink an eye. You offered to marry me, to save me—”
“I betrayed you.” The words came out in a raw whisper.
“I loved you, and yet I let my grief blind me. I pushed you away when I should’ve protected you.
” His voice cracked, and his hands came up to cover hers.
“One of the elders survived the fire and told us the truth after you left. Told us what my grandfather had done.” He bowed his head until their foreheads touched. “I’m sorry, Kat. I’m so sorry.”
She met his gaze, her own tears threatening to spill. “I forgave you. The moment you exiled us, I forgave you. But now you have to forgive yourself and do what needs to be done.”
“But—”
“As long as I know you’re safe, I’ll endure whatever they do to me. Please, Scylas. Take them home and live.”
“Kat—”
“Please,” she begged, her composure finally breaking as hot tears streaked down her face. “They already have Ley. I can’t lose you, too.”
Anguish twisted his features. Then, with a shuddering breath, he relented and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead—both a promise and a farewell.
When he pulled away, his eyes glistened with unshed tears, but he said nothing more. She helped him mount his horse, and he trotted towards the gates. Behind him, the column of Freefolk riders followed, their horses’ hooves kicking up clouds of dust.
At the rear of the line, Arnza rode with an unconscious Pinaria draped across his horse’s shoulders.
Dorias came to stand beside her. “Arnza will ride with them back to the Freefolk Lands.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “He and Pinaria will see to their safety on the journey.”
Katell’s jaw tightened, hands clenching into fists at her sides. Pinaria would be horrified when she woke and realised what had happened. Still… if Arnza leaving meant Pinaria remained out of Dorias’ reach, it was a better outcome than she’d dared hope.
Her attention turned to Arnza, his shoulders hunched under the weight of guilt. Despite the sting of his betrayal, she gave him a curt nod. His lips parted, as if to say something, but no words came. Instead, he dipped his head before urging his horse to follow the retreating column.
“Close the gates!” Dorias barked.
Soldiers moved to obey, and the heavy wooden structure groaned in answer.
Katell’s gaze swept over the courtyard teeming with soldiers. Dozens of them, though none had been sent to follow the Freefolk. Yet.
Without hesitation, she reached for the magic she’d restrained moments earlier. A surge of power erupted within her, and black smoke burst from the ground like a living shadow, snaking and coiling towards the gates.
The soldiers jumped back, shouts of alarm rippling through their ranks. The smoke writhed, winding its way up the wooden palisade, sealing the gates shut.
“What are you doing?” Dorias snapped.
Black smoke swirled around Katell in restless tendrils. “Everyone stays here until I say so.”
“Fine,” he growled, his steel gaze noting her sluggish movements and the faint tremor in her stance.
“You want to ensure no one follows them, then you can do so from the watchtower. You have until sundown—if you can even make it that long.” He gestured to the soldiers still holding Leywani. “But your friend stays with me.”
The soldiers hauled Leywani away towards the barracks.
“Kat,” she called over her shoulder in their Freefolk tongue. “I’ll be fine. Make sure they get away. Don’t worry about me.”
Before Katell could answer, Dorias stepped into her path, his gaze steady. “Keep your magic under control, and nothing will happen to her. I promise you.”
He gave a nod—the kind that would once have reassured her, but now made her stomach churn.
Leywani disappeared into the stone building, and as much as it killed her, Katell turned on her heel and ascended the stairs to the parapet.
Her limbs ached, her mind a storm of emotions, but she forced herself onwards.
When she reached the top, the vast expanse of the meadow stretched before her, bathed in the golden light of late afternoon.
Below, the column of Freefolk snaked its way north, growing smaller with every heartbeat.
If Dorias kept his word—a fragile hope—they would cross the Empire’s borders within three days.
From there, the journey back to the Deep River would be gruelling, but Pinaria would shield them—and, with any luck, Arnza, too.
Katell gripped the rough wooden edge of the parapet, her knuckles bone-white. The last rider vanished into the horizon, and all that remained was the crushing weight of her mistakes.
If you don’t help them, if you don’t free them from the horrors they’re enduring, then you’re not the sister I thought you were.
Alena’s words tore through the fragile composure she’d managed to hold.
Her knees buckled, and she sank against the parapet, her body trembling.
The tears she’d fought so fiercely to suppress now streamed down her face.
Her chest ached, the hollow, wrenching pain of betrayal and loss threatening to consume her.
Dorias had stolen everything—her trust, her love, her sense of purpose—but at least she’d done this one thing.
At least, she’d freed them.
She released her magic, fatigue tugging through her whole body, yet she stayed perched atop the palisade, a lone figure standing vigil through the night.
The stars wheeled overhead, and the first pale light of dawn broke on the horizon.
Katell remained rooted in place, hunger clawing at her belly and thirst searing her throat, yet she stubbornly watched over the gate.
When exhaustion claimed her in the early morning, she stumbled, her body crumpling against the parapet.
Strong arms caught her, hoisting her up. “You did well, my love,” Dorias murmured against her ear. “I give you my word—they’re safe. Sleep now.”
Though she wanted to pull away from him, her strength was gone. Darkness closed in, and with it came an uneasy, restless surrender.