Chapter 46
LYRAE
“The bastard’s almost here. He’ll want your sister; he’ll want the artifacts. If he gets them back, this is all over and then…”
The rest of Ryland’s warning was stolen away by the wind, and I ground my teeth together as hundreds of soldiers poured onto the frozen surface, that hideous cracking never letting up. I kept waiting for the entire army to just disappear, but so far, the ice was holding.
Probably because of the bursts of cold blue scattered across the front lines, ice magic, I assumed, reinforcing the unstable surface as the enormous force began to inch toward us, a dark smudge against the night.
Too bad the Grimbeasts couldn’t have been more selective in their killing.
Too bad the ice wasn’t thinner.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
A shard of panic shoved up, that miserable twist in my gut that always came right before a battle. Worse, now that I had so much to lose. I glanced over to Ryland, sword in hand, staring furiously across the frozen plane, then thought of Varian, somewhere inside, watching over my sister.
My whole family, finally united, with a monster poised on the opposite bank, waiting to tear us apart.
And Rooke…the key to this whole thing, the fulcrum upon which we succeeded or failed, and right now, I felt like fate could tip the scales either way.
“We have to buy Rooke enough time.”
“Trust me, he needs time and a miracle.” Ryland’s eyes met mine, and he opened his mouth, then clamped his lips back together.
“What are you not telling me, Ryland?” He had that guilty look to him, and I punched his shoulder, hard enough to knock him back a step. “What are you hiding?”
“Nothing. Only that Rooke needs a godsdamned miracle right now.”
“Fine,” I snapped. “Keep your secrets, then.”
We all needed a miracle, I thought, the ice making that awful crackling sound beneath my boots as we moved slowly forward, watching the distant line of Lord Gravelock's army close the gap between us. Behind us, pale walls rose high against the still-starry sky, gates were firmly bolted, but those walls wouldn’t keep Gravelock out, not with his silvered magic marking every opening and edge.
"Remember when we used to talk about what came after Blackcastle, after our thieving days were over?" Ryland's voice was soft beside me, his gloved hand finding mine, wrapping around my fingers. "How we’d build a cottage by some little river, far away from the war and the city and the slums?"
I smiled, despite the weight crushing my chest. "With the garden I don’t know how to grow? And the flowers I don’t know the names of? Yes, I remember."
"We’ll get there, Lyrae." He squeezed my fingers. "We’ll have it all, if we're lucky."
“Luck isn’t a word I use often, Ryland.”
I turned to face him, memorizing the fine lines around his eyes, every new scar, the way green flecks glowed like emeralds in his amber eyes, the strands of gold in his hair, and a few strands of silver, too, now. So little time we’d had together, and yet…
“I’m glad Torin called you,” I admitted, the pressure in my chest unbearable, “and I’m glad you came.”
“I’m glad you didn’t kill me and Var, the second you saw us.”
I chuffed out a frozen laugh. “I’m glad I didn’t kill you, too. I had it all planned out, but Zephryn told me to wait. I’m glad I took your murders under advisement.”
He reared back, some of the color draining from his face. “Well, fuck, I guess I’ll be thanking Zephryn when we get back to the Citadelle.”
I chewed my bottom lip, and his gaze honed in on the movement, the storm whipping long, dark hair around his beautiful face.
“I was sent here to retrieve the Triune, Ryland. To kill the Dark Prince, retrieve the Triune and bring them back to the queen. Since I’ve failed on all counts…
even if we survive this, I’m not sure what sort of welcome awaits me back home.
You and Varian…maybe we should go our separate ways, once this is over. ”
My fingers tightened on his. “Providing Gravelock doesn’t slaughter us all, which is looking rather likely.”
He was already shaking his head. “The queen is fair. She’ll understand your reasons.”
Something dark and forbidding kindled in his eyes.
“As far as the three of us going our separate ways, you couldn’t pry me away with a fucking crowbar, so banish that thought, commander, because it’s not happening.
If the queen decides to take issue with how you handled the Triune, Varian and I will stand beside you and accept the same godsdamned punishment. ”
Our next few steps were spent in silence, a glowing ember burning beneath my heart.
“Still,” I slid him a sideways glance. “I am allowing a known enemy—the Dark Prince of the Shadowlands—to take and use the greatest weapon our kind has ever known. If this goes awry…even if it doesn’t, I defied a direct order, an oath I swore.
She will never trust me again. And who is to know if we’re making the right decision, Ry?
I mean, what if Rooke turns out to be just as bad as Gravelock? ”
“You already know he’s not, Lyrae.” He moved closer, our hair tangling together before he pressed his palm over my chest, the pressure warm and solid and steadying.
“You know Rooke is a good male, because you feel that here. I see the truth in your eyes, when you look at him, I see the respect and the…” He pulled his eyes away, staring over my head at the approaching force.
“You are falling in love with him, and I know for a fact, you are an excellent judge of character. You are making the right decision, Lyrae, helping him. All of us are making the right decision here.”
“I’m not falling for Rooke.” I bit my lip again, suddenly unsure about what to say next, my heart racing against his palm, my eyes burning.
“And I don’t know about the good judge of character part, given I’ve fallen back in with you two miscreants.” I should keep moving, but all I wanted was to drink in Ryland’s closeness, his delicious scent, this old-new familiarity simmering between us.
“But I do feel like we’re making the right decision. I mean, he’s an arrogant, pompous ass…”
“But you like that type,” Ryland’s grin turned crooked as he looked down at me, snowflakes sticking to his eyelashes. “Don’t start lying to me now, and tell me you don’t.”
“Fine, I’ll admit the truth. I do like the dark, boorish, asshole-ish type.”
“Okay,” he breathed out the word like it was a promise. “Then once this is over, we’ll figure everything out. Now all we have to do is stay alive for the next hour.”
“Two hours,” I corrected him.
“My money’s on Rooke staying ahead of schedule. And all of this—" He gestured to the island, to the castle walls, "—holding together through whatever ritual he’s carrying out inside.”
As if on cue, a deep boom rumbled from inside, like a heavy door slamming shut.
I kissed him once, fierce and quick, then pulled away before my resolve wavered. "We can’t let them reach the island or this is over. Let’s hope the ice is thinner than it looks, and the Grimbeasts ate all of their strongest magic-wielders. Or at least maimed them.”
Together, we started across the frozen expanse, the ice groaning beneath our feet, singing its dangerous song and that fast, my breath caught. My vision blurred—sudden and unwanted—and I was flailing in foaming, black water, ice chunks scraping my face, my backpack dragging me down into darkness—
"Hey, look at me." Ryland's strong, muscled arm wrapped around my waist, steadying and safe. "I've got you. I won't let anything happen to you."
I forced myself to breathe, to focus on his warmth, the demand in his eyes…the love. "I know you won’t."
"Besides," he said, his tone lightening as we moved forward, "I’m looking forward to watching you go toe to toe with Gravelock. I have a feeling the pompous bastard has no idea what he’s in for."
Despite everything—the approaching army, the treacherous ice, the very real possibility that neither of us would see another sunrise—I laughed.
“You mean unlike us, who know exactly what’s heading our way?”
“Yup.” His wink was like old times. “Let’s hope the bastard likes surprises.”
He bumped my shoulder, squeezed my hand and we kept walking toward that dark, thundering army.