Chapter 51
LYRAE
The next step I took forward felt like stepping into a nightmare. The ice creaked again, a sharp, splintering sound that sent my heart racing. My mind flashed back—drowning in icy waters, the numbing cold stealing the breath from my lungs, pulling me down, down into the darkness.
No.
The past was the past, I wouldn’t let it hurt me.
Ryland’s shoulder brushed mine, then he pressed close enough to block the wind. “Are you good? Var’s not wrong; this isn’t your fight, Lyrae. You didn’t sign up for this.”
“I’m good.” I tightened my grip, gauged the closing distance between us and the army, trying to pick Gravelock out from among his soldiers. If I could end him quick, this would be over before it even started.
“Let’s do this. You and me, just like old….”
“Holy fucking gods, Lyrae. Rooke must have used the Mirror.” Ryland’s whisper filled with awe. “Look behind you.”
I turned my head and my heart stood still.
Amazing. That was the only word I had for the illusion backing us. Just the briefest mention of my Dreadwatch soldiers, and Rooke had done an impressive job at recreating the fighting force I commanded back at the Citadelle.
Almost seven feet tall, dressed in their black leather armor and armed to the teeth, four hundred of the biggest, baddest Fae motherfuckers pulled their weapons from their sheaths in unison.
Gravelock’s forces slowed at that shrill screech of steel.
Most attacking forces did.
Most forces had already turned tail and run.
Of course, if I was backed up by four hundred actual warriors slinging actual Valarian steel, I would be slightly more optimistic about our chances of survival right now.
But for now, the enemy’s approach had stopped, their heads swiveling in confusion as an entire fighting force seemingly materialized out of nowhere.
Good. All we had to do was milk this advantage as long as possible. I had to look again, and was doubly impressed by Rooke’s eye for detail. Or maybe it was the magic itself, crafting the illusion, but whatever this was, a little seed of hope bloomed in my chest.
“Remember to keep your head up. And keep that look on your face.” I blew an angry snort of white steam through my nose. Who the fuck was Ryland Storme to tell me what to do on a fucking battlefield?
“What look is that?”
“The one you have right before you tell me you’re going to carve off my balls. That one.”
“Oh?” I gave him the face, while—coincidentally—thinking about cutting off his balls, because it got me in the mood.
“Yes, exactly,” he actually looked pleased. “That’s the one. Keep that expression on your face, and we just might make it through this.”
“You are such an asshole,” I hissed, sliding him a sideways look. “You know that, right?”
“But I’m your asshole, love, until the end of time,” he winked. “Okay, brace yourself, here they come.”
I finally picked Gravelock out of the throng, half hidden by a living shield of five enormous guards, the bastard barely came up to their shoulders, white hair gleaming against his standard black clothing and overly dramatic flowing cape.
I planted my feet firmly, ignoring the shuddering groan beneath us.
“Gravelock.” My voice was swept away by the howling wind. The storm was at full force now, and with some luck, Gravelock would have a hard time discerning if my army was real or smoke and shadows.
He stepped free of his forces, those very real, very lethal soldiers matching him step for step, deadly magic of all sorts dripping from their hands.
The rest of the army fanned out behind him, five hundred strong, and they must have been continually reinforcing the ice, because there wasn’t a single creak or groan to be heard.
Well, at least I didn’t have to worry about falling through any more.
His gaze skimmed right over me, landing firmly on Ryland—because, sure, look to the male first—a slow, predatory smile creasing his gaunt face.
“It’s been a long time, Storme. To be honest, I figured you’d died in that prison wagon, along with your friend…what was his name? Kronos…something? You’re tougher than you look.”
Beside me, Ryland was a statue, nothing about him moving except for his eyes, pouring out a river of hate.
“I see you’ve finally put the pieces together. Not too bright, but I have to thank you. The girl was the key to making all this happen.” He spread his gloved hands wide, as if he were the conductor of a symphony only he could hear.
“Who would have known you were hiding a Wyrdtracker in your little stable of thieves? A treasure, completely wasted on a nobody piece of shit like you. Of course, I missed her in Blackcastle, but found her again fifty years later. All I had to do was keep my eyes on you and Kronos, I knew she’d turn up, sooner or later. ”
His gaze dipped to Ryland’s arm, the one still marked by a thin, black line.
“Or rather, trade the Oracle a secret for a secret. Either way, she was well worth the wait.”
Rage snagged in my chest, like leaves caught in the river’s current, pressure building up slow, ratcheting around my heart until I wondered if the damn thing might burst.
Ryland’s fingers brushed over mine lightly, and I remembered to take a breath as Gravelock’s gaze drifted to me, then the silent, waiting army behind us, the dragon crest on my soldiers’ breastplates, before recognition slowly dawned on his face.
That’s right, asshat, we’ve met before, remember?
I should have killed you then.
Too bad I can’t see the future like Torin.
“Lyrae Antares. Traitor to the Shadow King, killer of Crux, the king’s protector, executioner of the innocent, assassin to the crown, betrayer of the Solarys people.”
Beside me, Ryland jolted.
I could hardly blame him, that was a long list.
“Killer of anyone who needed killing.” I grinned, spinning my sword, the blade whistling. “Otherwise known as Commander of the Dreadwatch. But call me what you will.”
“Ah, yes, the famed Valarian Dreadwatch.” The Butcher’s eyes sharpened before he mimed a whole-body shudder. “Scary,” he laughed, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. “You forget I hunted those relics for centuries. I know everything about their powers.”
“Well, you sucked,” Ryland snapped. “Since Ariel found them within only a few years.”
I winced, but honestly, I was surprised he’d stayed quiet this long.
Hats off to his self-control, really.
“The Mirror, crafted from a shard of moonlight, capable of summoning illusions beyond compare. Illusions so perfect only a Truthsayer can see through them. But legend also says…whoever possesses the mirror can foresee the outcome of battles, discover hidden secrets, see the future. Sound familiar?”
The Butcher’s smile turned to silk, diamond pointed ears glinting.
“Now don’t you think, since I’ve possessed those relics for decades, I may have used the Mirror to foresee my own fate?
Don’t you think I might have accessed that magic so I would know, for instance, the outcome of this particular… battle?”
I’d had blue-blooded nobles look down at me with less disdain than Gravelock, when he added, “though I’d hardly call what’s about to happen a battle. More like a mercy killing.”
“Yes, you have had those relics for decades, haven’t you? I think you did try to use the Mirror, and the Crown, and the Thorn, but failed.”
My gaze dipped pointedly to his gloved hands.
“I think you failed and now have the scars to show for it. I think the reason you never claimed that power is because you’re afraid.
You’ve already seen your own fate, Butcher, and you didn’t come here today to retrieve the relics, but to prevent your own death. ”
“Kill her first,” he said idly, motioning two of his guards forward, fire wreathing their fingertips. “Then I shall proceed to the castle, where I shall kill any more of you vermin we come across, after which I will bleed Kaden Rooke dry and take the Triune back where it belongs.”
“See…” I told Ryland. “I knew I was right. That’s why he’s been waiting all this time,” I mused aloud, watching his eyes narrow down to slits. “You know you can’t claim the Triune.”
Ryland’s quick intake of breath had me pressing on.
“In fact, you know your chances of dying are greater than any chance of success. So your best option was to keep Kaden weak and the Triune under lock and key, because control was all you could hope for, while your realm died around you. What a pathetic legacy you’ll leave behind. ”
All around us, the winds had calmed down, the churning blizzard turning to lazy, fat flakes.
Luck wasn’t meant to last forever, but godsdamn it, couldn’t ours have lasted just a few minutes longer?
I blew out a breath, battle readiness flooding through my body, muscles tensing, my eyes meeting Ryland’s long enough to send him a clear message.
This bastard is mine.
“Did you know all my soldiers possess some form of magic? And while I don’t possess a Truthsayer, I do have the next best thing.” Gravelock waved a Fae guard forward, a shimmering ribbon of pale white magic wrapping up his arm. “Show me if this is glamour or real.”
The soldier cast his magic in a perfect sphere, not big enough to take down the Mirror’s entire illusion, but enough to shatter a hole in the uniformed force behind us.
Part of my fake Dreadwatch force disappeared, then reformed into a watery mirage as Gravelock’s smile turned to a leering grin, his soldiers drawing weapons, magic blooming at their fingertips.
“A trick is still only a trick. Now step out of the way, commander, while I go and fetch what you thieves stole.”
I looked to the sky, searching the gray clouds overhead.
More time.
We needed just a little time.
“Who says we stole anything?” I slammed my sword down into the ice between us, planting the point deep with a solid-sounding thunk. “Maybe you aren’t the hero of this story, Gravelock. Maybe you’re the piece of shit poser who doesn’t deserve to draw air.”
“Oh, and I suppose you’ll be the one to deliver it?” He sniped, and I wanted nothing more than to march forward and stab my sword through his throat. But we had to draw this out as long as possible.
And talking was certainly better than bleeding.
I rested my hand on the pommel of my sword. “You sat in enough of the Shadow King’s royal audiences to know just how good I am with this, and trust me, while I’ve killed and regretted it, with you…I could carve you into little chunks and sleep like a fucking baby tonight.”
He opened his mouth, but I went on.
“You know, I am curious about something. Why bother buying a no-name princess from a corrupt ruler to fund a war he could never win? Seems like a losing proposition all the way around, if you ask me.”
“But Anaria Centaria wasn’t a no-name princess, was she?
” Gravelock said, in that slithering voice.
“Not that it matters now, but the Shadow King offered her to me. A gift to cement our partnership. Even back then, he saw the girl as a threat to his power and wanted her out of the way. And if he could make some easy coin in the process…” he shrugged. “All the better.”
“So Anaria’s shit uncle sold her out to fund his war.” I yanked my sword free from the ice. “What a fucking prick. I see the two of you had a lot in common.”
Gravelock opened his mouth to say something pithy when a wave of power shattered the air, the ice rumbling around us, even the snow pausing, as if the world had stopped to listen.
Rooke must be close. Please let him be close.
Behind us, the entire illusion faded away, leaving nothing but Frostveil, looming in the snow. I sighed, both Ryland and I raising our swords.
“Really?” The Butcher’s smile was all the cat who got the cream. “Shouldn’t you quit while you’re ahead?”
“We will defeat your army,” I said evenly, as his soldiers’ closed ranks, armor clattering, the reek of pending magic clogging the air.
“Rooke is going to kill you, after which you’ll go down in history as a total and complete failure, because we’re going to burn Evernight to the ground and erase every last trace of you. ”
I tipped my head to Ry. “Did I miss anything?”
“Oh.” Ryland smacked his head. “We’re turning Gravespire into our summer home, once Queen Anaria annexes the Shadowlands into Valarian. An oasis with lots of trees and rivers and flowers, that sort of thing.”
I dragged my sword through the ice between us, carving a deep gash into the surface
“We’re going to win today, and you are going to lose.” I said, shooting Ryland a smile, a real smile, because fuck, this felt good.
Being on the same side again, fighting against the greedy fuckers who take and take and take and never left enough for the rest of us.
“Why, because you have the Triune?” Gravelock threw his head back, barked out a laugh.
“I’ll remind you, your sister is inside.
Those artifacts are already mine. She hunted them over this entire realm; you don’t think she can find them inside Rooke’s prison?
She’s searching for them as we speak, in fact, she probably already has them. ”
My eyebrows went up and I chuffed out a low laugh. “Well, thanks for telling us your all plans, but my answer was going to be—
“We’re winning this battle today, because unlike you, I know how to fucking collaborate.”