Текст книги "Eyes of devious burgundy"

Автор книги: Lacey Lehotzky

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 43 страниц)

Finally, I whispered, “I’ll miss you.” The statement was true; I wouldn’t soon forget the male who made me feel like an equal for the first time in my life.

Shuffling us around, Izgath took my braid in his hand and tugged my head so I looked up at him. His garnet eyes snagged on my lips for a moment, and then mine drifted closed as he leaned down to kiss me.

Embers burned low in my belly, growing hotter as Izgath swiped his tongue across the seam of my lips. I opened for him, collapsing into his arms as we melded together. His pace was unhurried, despite our impending separation. He walked me back to the bed, and I allowed him to break only long enough to recline backward. One boot, then the other, disappeared from my feet, and Izgath tossed them gently to the side, his garnet eyes sweeping over my prone form. His fingers flew over the leather stretched across his chest, and then he rid himself of that fabric too. I made to unbutton my tunic, but he knelt and swiped my hands away.

“Let me,” he purred, and I rested back once again, watching his expert fingers work over them, then expose me. He wasted no time unfastening the bind on my breasts either. His hot breath brought pebbles to my skin as he leaned down and kissed the swell of both of them. I bit my lip to stifle a moan at his touch.

Izgath stripped me slowly, tongue gliding in his wake. A shiver trailed next, and I fisted the blankets beneath me in an effort to remain still and quiet. My eyes tracked every single movement, anticipation curling through me like a wisp of smoke.

As he rose, my attention snagged on the outline of his cock in his pants. He gripped it, and my mouth watered for the sight. Then, he pulled the ties of his pants, loosening them slowly, teasing out the moment.

“I want to see,” I whispered from my position beneath him.

His eyes flooded with heat, and he swept them over my bare body again. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I breathed, parting my legs ever so slightly and drawing his attention there. After we shared the tent, I hadn’t stopped thinking about the way he’d touched me, and I wanted more.

He dropped his pants and stepped out of them, revealing a veiny member whose tip already beaded with moisture. A few pumps of his shaft had him stifling a groan, and the sound alone had heat brushing against the cool air around my core.

Air that didn’t remain cool for long as he lowered himself between my thighs. Rather than doing what Vagach did and pushing into me immediately, Izgath leaned forward and captured my mouth in his again. His magic seeped into me as well, caressing every inch of my skin. I tangled my fingers in his hair and pressed up into him, nipples brushing against his bare chest.

Breaking our kiss, he moved to my neck, planting a row of them along its length, all the way to my collarbone and down to my breasts. My mouth popped open in a silent O as he lavished attention on them. I writhed against him, core beating like the wings of a bird. “More,” I whimpered as quietly as I could.

A hand slipped between us, and then he was cupping me, parting my slick center and slipping a finger inside. A gasp tore through me as he nipped at the same time. “Izgath,” I moaned before biting down on my lip again.

At least in this camp, our sounds were more muffled by the activity around us.

He circled there, heightening my pleasure, and my body coiled around it. “Are you ready for more?” he asked, lifting his mouth from my breast to my ear and sending a shiver down my spine.

“Yes,” I breathed, and he inserted another finger. Something harder, thicker pressed against my thigh, and Izgath ground into it as he rocked his fingers against my inner walls. With subtle, slow movements, he found an easy rhythm that made me melt beneath him. His thumb pressed the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs, and my neck rolled back as pleasure flooded me. Izgath heightened it with another wave of his magic, and soon, I was drowning in sensuous delight.

“Fates,” I breathed once he slipped another finger inside me. He stilled, and I nearly whimpered, every nerve alight and waiting for his next move. My thigh was damp where his cock rubbed against it. Where he cupped me was even damper.

“You feel incredible, Assyria,” he murmured in my ear, planting a kiss at the base of my jaw and beginning to thrust his fingers into me again. But his weren’t the hurried movements of a male trying to get it over with. No, Izgath moved like we were on the shores of a private beach, with millenia to spend wrapped in one another and no care for the outside world. Each press of him into me was exquisite, so unlike anything I’d ever done with Vagach.

“You were right,” I panted after he curled his fingers and worked them over an incredible spot inside me.

“About what?” he paused, eyes dancing, and my brows pinched as the pleasure ceased with it.

“Intimacy can be incredible.” A small, breathy laugh slipped out along with my words.

He stole the grin off our faces when our mouths met again. Tangling my fingers in his hair, I held onto him while he rocked into me, using one hand to swirl over my clit while the other held him upright. I let my hands wander, tracing over the hard muscles flexing with each movement, between us to cup my breasts, down to touch his hardness.

“Reaper,” he cursed when I wrapped my hand around him. He picked up his pace, and I matched the movement of my hand with his fingers, drawing so much pleasure I wondered why Vagach hadn’t at least tried to do this with me before we coupled.

My walls found a beat of their own, and my breath stuttered in my chest. Izgath grinned down at me, then changed the arrangement of his fingers. If I thought he was masterful before, I could barely breathe now for how he worked them inside me. “Come for me, Assyria,” Izgath breathed, digging the heel of his palm into my clit.

I slapped my free hand over my mouth to stifle the cry as my core clamped down on him, sending an explosion of pleasure through my veins. A low, heady groan slipped from him, but he didn’t stop moving, wringing every last drop from me. By the time my lashes stopped fluttering, his jaw was clenched tight, and his movements grew erratic.

With a grunt, he thrust into my hand, spilling his seed all along my thigh. Sweat slicked his torso, two drops racing from his neck and down his abs. He grabbed his discarded tunic and caught them before wiping me clean.

“You are incredible,” he said, awe threading his voice as he looked down at me again. My thighs were slick with my arousal, and bliss made my limbs heavy.

“Thank you,” I whispered to him, and he tossed his shirt aside, lying down beside me instead. He planted a kiss on my chest, then another on my lips.

“I am glad I could show you real pleasure, Assyria. You deserve to know it,” he murmured, looking down at me.

“Will you stay tonight?” I asked him, absently tracing the muscles on his chest.

“If you want me to, I will. Though I will have to dip out for fresh clothes and to rumple my bed.” He lifted a hand and planted kisses along the backs of my knuckles.

“I do,” I told him, and the grin that split his face sent flutters through my belly.

He shuffled us around so that he curled around my petite frame. “Sleep, Assyria,” he murmured in my ear. I closed my eyes, just for a moment, and savored the feel of him. The next thing I knew, it was morning, and Izgath was slipping away to change before anyone discovered him missing.

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21

“Are you certain you can’t stay longer?” Xannirin asked, lounging in my sleeping chamber while I packed the last of my things in the leather travel bag that was falling apart at the seams.

“Only a few Százados remain outstanding, and by the estimates, they should all return today,” I replied, shoving the last of my freshly-made tunics into the bag. A thread popped, and I cursed.

“You know, we have weavers who can make you a bag that doesn’t fall apart,” Xannirin commented, looking pointedly at the cracked, stained fabric in my hands.

“No,” I snapped, buckling the straps around so it didn’t further deteriorate.

Rolling his eyes, he rose, then went to Grem and Zeec, petting them and whispering passive-aggressive comments about me in their ears. “If he’s ever too mean you know where to find me, okay? I’ll always take you in.”

“Again, you can get dogs of your own,” I pointed out, crossing to the mannequin that held my armor and unbuckling one section at a time. Securing them in place on my body felt like coming home, and as I donned the last of my gear, the Rokath that relaxed in the capital with his cousins fell away, replaced once again by the ruthless, cruel Halálhívó.

Though that part of me never really left. It was always there, lurking in the background, waiting to spring forth at the slightest provocation.

A knock sounded on the outer door, drawing the dogs’ attention. Their pointed ears perked straight forward as they released two sharp barks and trotted in that direction. “For Fates’ sake, what now?” I groused, fingers working over the black metal cuffs on my forearms. Xannirin followed me into the sitting chamber, hanging back while I stomped toward the door.

Sending the dogs to their beds and yanking the door open, I found two red-armored Kral’s Guard waiting, a young female pinned between them. “Halálhívó,” the one on the left said, “the priestess insists that she speak with you.”

The female braced her hands on her thighs, half bent over like she was desperately trying to fill her lungs with air. Black robes swept down her small frame, though the white belt around her waist told me that she was only an acolyte. Then, my gaze snagged on the parchment clutched in her hand.

“What is it? Did something happen to the High Priestess?” I asked, and the female’s head shot up. She took a half-step back and proffered me the paper. The Kral’s Guard twitched forward as if they were going to stop her from attacking me. I slashed them both with a derisive look. I needed no one to protect me. They shrank back, swallowing and adjusting their grips on their weapons.

“Apologies, Halálhívó, but the High Priestess has had another vision and sent me straight to you with this. She said it couldn’t wait,” the acolyte panted, planting her hands on her hips as I snatched the parchment.

Xannirin crowded my space a moment later, and the female plunged into a curtsy. “My Kral, may your thread hold strong.”

We ignored her and flipped open the partly crumpled note. Kiira’s handwriting was usually an artistic, flowing script, but this was a chaotic scrawl. Words bled together in haphazard strokes, the ink uneven and smeared as if written in a frenzy. I recognized the odd way she wrote her F, with the strikethrough closer to a forty-five degree angle than straight across, but otherwise, the words were nearly indecipherable.

“Was the High Priestess still mid-vision when she wrote this?” I asked, handing it to Xannirin in hopes he’d have more luck uncovering its meaning than me.

“Yes, sir,” she replied, curtsying again. Her fingers remained in the folds of her skirt as if she didn’t know what to do now that she stood in front of the two most powerful Demons in all of Keleti and between two males sworn to die protecting us if necessary.

“Fuck,” Xannirin swore, flipping the page around as if a different angle would provide him more insight.

“Did she say anything else? Anything at all. The small details are still important,” I pressed, studying her for any sign of deception.

“Well, she was repeating one word. Burgundy. But nothing else,” she stammered, cheeks flaming.

Xannirin’s head snapped up from the paper, and he stared directly at me. He didn’t need to speak for me to know what he was thinking. This must be related to the female with eyes of devious burgundy Kiira had seen during her last visit to Gyor Palace.

“You may return to Varbad now,” I told her, stepping back. The acolyte’s final words were silenced by the slamming of the door. The deep baritones of the Kral’s Guards filtered through a moment later, but I ignored them as I snatched the parchment from Xannirin. Smoothing out the crinkles, I scanned it again, looking at the words with F’s in them again. “Perhaps I should make the trek to Varbad and check on her myself,” Xannirin mused, looking over my shoulder.

“I’ll escort you on my way to the war camp,” I muttered, smashing the paper in my fist. Stomping back to my sleeping chamber, I grabbed my leather bag and stuffed it through a small hole at the top, tucking it beneath some clothes so it wouldn’t tumble if the bag were jostled.

“Thank you, Rokath.” He paused for a moment, and I waited because I knew Xannirin wasn’t quite finished speaking. “I’m worried about Kiira,” he finally admitted. Xannirin paced, tension rolling off him in a way he only ever showed to me. “She’s unraveling before our eyes, and clearly these visions are taking a toll on her. They are more like the prophecies told by the Angel seers. The Fates have only ever given her information sporadically, and to flood her with all of this over the past few weeks?”

Lifting my helmet from its stand, I donned it, the cool ebony resting against my skin and covering the tattoos lining it. “Even if Kiira doesn’t remember what she foretold, we need to search for the burgundy-eyed female. Have Kiira use her network to locate every single one in the realm and have them brought to Uzhhorod. I’ll have my officers interrogate their squads for leads as well. Someone knows this female, and once she’s here, we can figure out exactly why she’s essential.”

Xannirin stopped mid-stride and faced me. He scratched his beard, then nodded. “Good thinking. There can’t be that many. Most of them are concentrated here, given the number of nobles residing in the city.”

“Bring all of them in too. It could be one of them,” I commented, shouldering my bag. Xannirin fell in step with me as we returned to the sitting chamber. Grem and Zeec popped up, tails wagging.

Blocking the end of the hall, four Kral’s Guard waited, and I snapped orders at them to send a message to the stables that the Kral and I were to depart imminently. Xannirin slipped into his rooms to change into appropriate attire for riding through the city. His appearance at Varbad Temple would cause quite the stir, and he would need to be dressed in a way that spoke to his power over the Demons. By the time he returned, so too had his guards with news that our mounts waited at the front gates.

Much like my entry into Gyor some weeks prior, the halls teemed with sycophantic nobility, their jeweled heads bowed low as Xannirin and I passed. A murmur of reverent whispers followed us, each word oozing flattery as they angled for his attention. I ignored them all, my focus fixed on escorting Xannirin to Varbad and then returning to the war camp.

This influx of soldiers was everything I needed to regain our foothold in the northern part of the Demon Realm, then to spear into the northern part of the Angel Realm, pushing down into the Eső Forest. More than this female, these conscripts were essential to winning this war. Bodies to fight the Angels, bodies for me to raise and control, bodies to move the supplies from place to place.

In the end, that was all we were to the Fates anyway—bodies to be controlled like puppets in their endless game.

Revealing what they were trying to tell Kiira, though, weighed heavily on me as we burst into the sunshine. Two dozen red-armored soldiers waited on horseback for us with a group on foot around them. At the front, two held Xannirin’s white stallion, while another held my black one.

Once we were secure in our position atop them, I called for the guards to open the gates, and we rode out into the city I hated so much, beginning the long, winding trek to Varbad.

After depositing my horse with one of the mounted units, I strode straight to the heart of the camp where the giant map table, the bone room, and all my officers waited.

“What’s the latest on our numbers at the front?” I snapped, striding to the table and flattening my hands on the wood. The scent of sweat and ink mixed together as I settled myself in place.

My gaze landed heavily on each Parancsok, and I was pleased that none had to straighten. They didn’t get to their ranks through laziness. Each was disciplined, hard working, and a brilliant fighter and leader. Each had to earn their spots, just as I had, and I held them to the same standard as I held myself.

Rapp moved a few stone pieces about the map to update positions based on the latest reports. “Hadvezér Trol has corralled the Angel advance into the pass beyond Ustlyak,” he commented, sliding a large cluster of white between two sets of mountains.

Too fucking close.

At this rate, they’d slaughter everyone who remained behind with Trol within six weeks. After that? They’d spear straight to the capital and everything those fucking nobles had been whispering about would come to pass. We desperately needed to get these males north. With a wave of my hand, I sent Grem and Zeec deeper into the tent, to their usual spots on either side of the throne of bones.

Ustlyak was one of the few oases in the vast wasteland north of here, and if the army could hold its position there until we could ride in with reinforcements, we might be able to push back the advance, especially with the assistance of those familiar with the high, arid mountains surrounding the Paks Desert. Plus, without access to Ustlyak, the Angels would be without water, and they might end up retreating on their own.

Better to catch them with their backs turned anyway.

“And?” I pressed, wanting the exact number of soldiers remaining.

“And we’ve taken a larger hit to our ranks than expected, nearly six thousand more.” Rapp finally met my gaze, a hint of sympathy dancing in his burgundy eyes.

Heat swept up my spine, my teeth grinding together with the force of my restraint. My fingers curled against the hard wood of the table, the urge to flip it and shatter it to pieces warring with the need to fix the problem. This was why I should have been here instead of luxuriating in Gyor Palace. This was what happened when I left others to do what I did best.

I had to protect everyone from these fucking Angels, and I’d permitted myself be lazy instead. It was a heavy burden to bear, yet I couldn’t allow anyone to see how far the weight shoved me down now.

“Though Hadvezér Trol says in his current position he shouldn’t lose too many more. He has spread the squads through the peaks, armed with what remains of their bows and arrows, picking the Angels off where they can. He’s sent his airborne units some distance away in an attempt to box them in and starve them out,” the Rapp finished.

Fingers curling inward, I stepped back from the table and rolled my shoulders, trying to relieve the tension accumulating there like fallen snow. “Then we must make haste and send units to assist in surrounding the Angels,” I said.

If Trol was stretched so thin already, why the fuck would he attempt to surround them?

“Aye, Halálhívó, I will offer two of my squads to ride out at first light. They were the first to arrive back with conscripts, and have had the most training out of all the new ones,” one of Rapp’s Parancsok offered.

Rapp’s head bobbed as he mulled over the proposal. “That should bolster Hadvezér Trol long enough for the rest of us to catch up.”

“Have you already selected the ones going for enhanced training?” I asked the Parancsok, straining to level my voice. Rapp raised an eyebrow, the studs in them flashing, and I pointedly ignored him.

“I have, Halálhívó. Thirty from one squad, fifty-four from the other. The Százados know to split them off in the morning regardless,” he replied, adjusting the maroon scabbard that held his sword.

“Then send your message now. But they must still attend the viewing ceremony,” I added. Needing to cool my temper, I removed my helmet and set it aside. The light breeze against my bare skin was enough to fan the flames of my frustration. The viewing ceremony would allow me to quickly assess the state of the army while providing much needed intimidation so the new arrivals would cleave to the rules as I set them.

The Parancsok dipped out of the tent to do as he was bid.

“And where do we stand with the numbers in camp?” I growled at the room.

We better be fucking close to leaving.

“All Százados have returned with their recruits and original squads, Halálhívó,” Rapp stated, a hint of smugness in his tone. He’d been holding out this information like the treat it was.

Bastard.

I sliced my attention to the friend who took great pleasure in tormenting me. “Truly?” The Százados had traveled far and wide, and with how terribly the war was going, I expected at least some who had been to the front to desert along the way. That all returned from their journeys was remarkable, especially at the new scale of our army.

“Aye, and our ranks stand at roughly three hundred thousand now, give or take a few, depending on how many remain with Hadvezér Trol.” Rapp’s burgundy eyes glittered with excitement, the metal ring in his lip flashing as he grinned wickedly.

That number was more than enough to drive the Angels back, well into their territory, and possibly even take Sivy. It was more than we had before Banand’s plague swept through the Demon Realm.

Wicked excitement flooded my veins. “Very good. And how many for enhanced training in total?”

Rapp shuffled a few pages until he found what he was looking for. “Between the conscripts and seasoned warriors, about ten thousand.”

The Fates have shone their favor on me once again.

“Excellent.” It was more than I had hoped for, and some of that negativity that had creeped into my thoughts vanished as my full confidence was restored. “You have collected all the papers from your Százados, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” the remaining Parancsok echoed.

“I’d like to review the new powers and ratings. Please send them to my quarters. And reconfirm with your Százados at the viewing ceremony. At this size, someone is easy to miss.” I paused, sweeping my gaze over the map of Keleti, from the Skala Mountains that divided the continent, to the thick forests covering the Angel’s side, and back to the coastal cliffs to the northeast of Uzhhorod. There, outside of a city called Fured, was where I’d done most of my military training, where I’d met Rapp, and where this whole journey had begun. It was only fitting that we sent those selected for enhanced training there to hone their powers.

It was also one of the only places in the north that hadn’t yet been overrun. It seemed as though the Angels drove straight toward Uzhhorod rather than sweeping across the entire expanse, mountains to ocean.

“We’ll send them to Fured, along with our best trainers. Olet, that includes you,” I said, landing my attention on the Parancsok.

He offered me a closed-fist salute. “It is my honor, Halálhívó. We will ensure they can wield their powers with precision and accuracy for extended periods of time.”

“I will return to the front myself, along with the majority of our troops, though if we push the Angel’s advance, I will make a detour to check them over myself,” I told him, mind whirling over the paths laid before me. So many options, so many variables, so many possibilities.

Yet I hadn’t become the greatest leader Ravasz had ever, and would ever, see because of my indecisiveness. It was the way in which I thought about the future, the strategies and calculated risks I employed, that put me firmly in the books of history. In this age of war and prophecy, my name would be at the top of the list of important players in the game.

With only ten thousand departing for Fured, and a good portion of those males already trained in combat, Olet and a handful of Százados would suffice for oversight. “Bolster your Százados with whomever they need to assist in their leadership in your absence,” I told him. He dipped his chin in acknowledgement. I glanced among the Parancsok. “I expect any officer sent for enhanced training to have a suitable replacement, and if you can’t find one within, you may reform and trade with one another. After you are finished, we will record the new rank structure.”

“We’ll meet back here after the viewing ceremony to discuss. That will be a good opportunity to assess your own ranks, as well as the ranks of your fellow Parancsok,” Rapp added, working his teeth over his lip.

“What time is that scheduled?” I asked, glancing at the small square clock that read the date and time. When battles waged for days on end, it was easy to lose track of the passage of it. Therefore, every major tent in the encampment had a clock exactly like this one, whose mechanisms moved the bronze stick in a circle over the day and turned the dial on the day number once it had completed a revolution.

“At seventeen. We still have a few hours if you’d like to read through the power ratings of the conscripts,” Rapp offered, drumming his fingers on the table as he too studied our officers.

None seemed fazed by our commands, and if anything, I sensed an eagerness to return to the front. Hope peeked through their high-powered eyes. Hope that we desperately needed and rightly deserved after the enormous effort of conscripting more soldiers for the Demon army.

A growled warning reminded them of what was an absolute non negotiable among our ranks. “We shall ride together later and instill a healthy sense of respect into the conscripts. We are these males’ leaders now, and they need to learn the rules of military life sooner rather than later, or they will end up dead. By the Angel’s hands or ours. If one person bends the rules, then the rest will follow, and our discipline is what gives us an advantage. Ensure your Százados are passing along that message to their soldiers.”

“Aye, Halálhívó,” they said in unison.

“You are dismissed,” I said, and they offered me a final salute before dispersing.

Rapp remained behind, leaning over the map table again and studying it, tongue fiddling with the ring in his lip. “The papers are over there,” he jerked his head in the direction of a small side table adjacent to a chair in the corner. Indeed, a pile of dirty, half-crumpled sheets rested atop it, and I snatched them, scanning through for any sign of burgundy eye colors. The chances of finding a female among them were zero, but if there were even a few males that had them, perhaps their sisters, mothers, or cousins did too. Kiira could direct her search toward those parts of the Demon Realm rather than spreading her network even thinner. Passing messages from the far south, even via raven, took days. Days, by the looks of the map, we didn’t have to spare.

Rapp’s attention burned into me, and I glanced up, finding a concern pulling down the corners of his mouth. “What’s got your scowl even more foreboding?” he pried, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side.

I returned to scouring the parchments. “Nothing to concern yourself with.”

He snorted, then sauntered to a tray of food growing cold on the opposite end of the tent. “Alright, I’ll let you have one day of being a mysterious, broody bastard.” He grabbed a fat green grape and popped it into his mouth. “But tomorrow, you’re telling me. I’m no use to you as a friend or Hadvezér if I don’t know what I’m working with.”

“Fine,” I grumbled, taking the papers and making my way to the throne of bones. Settling onto it, I began examining each page more carefully, pulling the ones with notes of high power or unique magic. They were the ones most likely to know this essential burgundy-eyed female. Grem and Zeec snoozed at my feet, and eventually, Rapp dragged himself into the smaller space, lounging on one of the plush cushions kept in here for advisors. We worked on our respective tasks in silence, though the anticipation thrumming in my veins made me want to do anything but sit.

Patience.

I needed the reminder as much as I needed to cool my temper. Patience, strategy, and cunning, those were the traits that had gotten me this far. Those were the traits that would carry us to victory. The Fates had provided me many gifts, and this success was merely another in a long line. Time would tell how swiftly they’d offer me their next and final—victory over the Angels.

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