Текст книги "Horns of Wicked Ebony"

Автор книги: Lacey Lehotzky

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 43 страниц)

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21

Astring of curses fled my lips as I yanked on the knob to yet another supply closet. “Why are there so many fucking doors in this place?” I mumbled to myself as I slammed it shut. With a huff, I continued down the fourth-floor hall in search of the stairwell.

Really should have accepted that tour from Rokath.

My mate was currently occupied, preparing for Xannirin and Kiira’s arrival. I’d wanted to see where the females would be housed and ensure it was clean because I’d been around these males long enough to know what was passable for them. And that they’d not spent nearly enough time around females to be attuned to our needs in the slightest.

Rokath’s directions to their barracks—down two landings of the spiral staircase from his office, first left down the long hall, out onto the inner curtain, second door on the right, down another spiral staircase, and then I’d be there.

Supposedly.

I was still looking for the long fucking hall.

Cursing my mate under my breath, I threw open another door, expecting to find a broom staring me in the face. To my surprise, a vast stretch of space awaited me. “Finally,” I muttered, striding through. Voices drifted down the stone walls, which was another good sign.

The heavy oak swung shut behind me with a loud thump. A moment later, the gong reverberated through the keep. I kept walking, determined to reach the first left before males swarmed from one place to the next.

Yet as I continued on, no hurried footsteps echoed around me. No baritone laughter greeted me.

Am I in the wrong hall?

The first split came upon me, and I quickened my pace, heading to the left. I glanced down the right hand path as I turned, only to slam to a halt.

“Please, make it stop,” a male whimpered, curled in on himself with his hands over his ears. His clothes hung limp over his frame, and his pale skin was soaked in sweat. Back pressed against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, body trembling, he was clearly not okay.

I eased one foot in front of the other as I approached, not wanting to startle him. As I got closer, I lowered myself to the ground so I wasn’t towering over him. “Hello,” I said, keeping my tone level and even.

With a start, he ripped his eyes open, revealing a crimson shade. My heart twisted. He’d been on the front lines, and Fates knew for how long.

“Can you make it stop?” he asked, his voice so broken that tears blurred my vision. His hands still pressed to the sides of his head.

“The gong?” I clarified, blinking rapidly to banish the salt.

He nodded.

The final peal rang out a moment later, leaving a descending vibration in its wake. I waited for it to pass before speaking again. “See? No more. You’re safe to uncover your ears now.”

Slowly, he lowered his hands, eyes darting everywhere. “Where are they?”

“Where are who?” I asked softly.

“The Angels,” he whispered as if they could hear us. His chin wobbled like he was trying desperately to hold himself together.

I swallowed the emotion welling in my throat. “They’re far, far away. They can’t reach us here. That’s why you returned with us, isn’t it? For some rest?”

“Yes.” The word, so quiet and yet so shattered, slashed my heart.

“And where are you supposed to be while you’re resting?” I tested because I had no clue where I was and if I tried to return him to the healing wing I’d most likely get us lost.

He lifted a hand and pointed toward a door a dozen paces away. “Th–there. We’re all supposed to be there. I–I got…lost on my return from the privy.”

“Why don’t I accompany you so you don’t get lost again?” My tone was light and gentle, and I pressed my palms to the ground and rose to my feet.

The male shoved himself upright, still leaning into the wall. “Yes, please, Szélhámos.”

At least he knows who I am.

He lingered for a moment with his back against the stone, attention flicking from me to the door to the hall behind me.

“You remember who my mate is?” I questioned, gauging his every reaction.

“Aye,” he said, though his tone contained a hint of wariness.

“If anyone attacks us here, the Halálhívó will come for me immediately. He can protect you like he protects me,” I told him, hoping that would ease some of his anxiety.

The male nodded and dragged in a deep breath. Then, like it physically pained him, he took a step forward. Another followed. I waited a few beats before trailing him, ensuring I was in his periphery at all times. The last thing I wanted to do was to scare him again.

We approached the door he had indicated. My shoulders relaxed once he gripped the handle and opened it. Inside, a handful of others waited, all in wood chairs arranged in a neat circle. At one end was a male I didn’t recognize, his hair longer than was allowed in the army, wearing wool pants and a crisp tunic.

“Ah, there you are, Mak. I was about to send someone–” he cut himself off when I appeared behind the crimson-eyed male. “Szélhámos.”

Heat crept to my cheeks as all the males turned to look at me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt this…” I trailed off, unsure what to call the gathering.

“We’re talking about…about what happened to us,” Mak told me quietly. I looked up at him, noting then just how young he was. Barely of age at most, with the build of a male who hadn’t quite come into his form. Yet that innocence that so often accompanied coming of age had been stripped away entirely.

My attention drifted to the others, vision blurred from unshed tears. “I’ll be on my way so you can continue.”

The leader rose, gesturing for Mak to return to his chair. The soldier did as he was ordered. But instead of dismissing me, the well-dressed male went behind him and fetched another chair. “Why don’t you join us?”

All I could do was blink at him as he scooted the seats around to place the now-empty one beside his. I took a hesitant step forward, scanning the group. These males weren’t used to females, let alone veilless ones. Or ones that were mated to their exalted leader. Every instinct told me to decline. Yet when I’d spoken of my trauma with Kiira, I’d felt infinitely lighter afterward. And with the weight of everything I’d experienced in the past few months, I certainly could use an unburdening. “Only if I won’t be an intrusion.”

“On the contrary. I believe the presence of someone so revered would help these soldiers feel heard,” the cherry-eyed male said. A few of the others nodded their assent, though some regarded me with a hint of reservation.

My feet moved before I registered what they were doing. I planted myself in the chair, meeting the gaze of each soldier before me. “Thank you for allowing me to sit with you.”

“Why don’t we each introduce ourselves to the Szélhámos. I’ll go first. I’m Exen, brain healer for Fured.” He dipped his head in the direction of the male beside him.

“I am Thal, Szélhámos. You are welcome in this group, as all are.” This one looked more weathered, like he’d been in the army years instead of months like many of the other males.

“Pleased to meet you, Thal,” I replied. Each soldier gave his name in turn, and I thanked them all for their service and letting me join them.

Exen resumed the discussion once all had finished. “Mak, what delayed your return?”

All attention fell on the crimson-eyed male. Yet it wasn’t the heavy, judgmental type I’d been on the receiving end for far too long. Instead, each regarded him with openness and empathy.

Mak swallowed hard. “When the gong rang…” The male beside him gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. Mak exhaled, then continued. “It reminded me of an illusion an Angel forced on me. Bells pealing everywhere, like we’d won a great victory. When I realized I’d been tricked and shook myself out of it, my best friend was in front of me, a spear through his middle. He–he gave his life for me. Because I wasn’t paying attention to my mind, keeping myself grounded in reality to prevent those insects from using such magic on me.”

Many of the males shifted in their seats or looked down at the floor. My heart ached for Mak, for all of these soldiers. I’d blamed myself for the deaths of everyone I loved too.

A few more added stories of how they’d lost friends or brothers to the Angels. As the hour passed, I learned that most were here because of how they’d died. One tragic story after another squeezed my ribs.

The males comforted each other with small touches, words of encouragement, and shared feelings. Exen expertly handled each passing moment, drawing out words when a soldier struggled to voice his dark memories. Shadows slipped around them while they recounted it, and I watched in rapt fascination as some of their emotion abated.

After the session, I had to ask him how it worked.

Eventually, he turned his attention to me. “Szélhámos, you have been part of this army for months now. Is there anything you’d like to share?”

The faces of everyone I’d lost flashed through my mind. My mother, my father, my sister…but they’d all been during the plague. The common theme among the males had been friends. And two losses in particular still weighed heavily on me.

“My best friend died trying to protect me too,” I whispered, allowing two tears to fall for Olrus. Another fell for Izgath. Despite how far we were from Uzhhorod, the scent of scorched flesh filled my nostrils. He’d remained honorable even as they burned him alive on a pyre for refusing to share my true identity. Yet I couldn’t speak about him, not without revealing secrets Rokath and I would rather not share. I’d atoned for that with my rescue of Zurronar, and was far more at peace with it than I was with Olrus.

Mak met my gaze. “How do you live with it?”

A watery laugh escaped me at the memory of those final moments with our gardener. “Before I left, he told me that I needed to make my life worth living. To forget about him and focus on myself. To have adventures. I don’t think either of us could have imagined where my path would take me.”

I swiped the wetness from my cheeks with the back of my hand as the memory of Kiira’s note slammed into me and stole my breath. “It wasn’t until we were deep in the desert that I heard of his passing. It shattered me.”

I paused, dragging in a serrated breath while my tattered heart beat against my ribs. The males waited for me to gather myself. Not a hint of condemnation spilled from them at my outward display of emotion. None looked at me like I was lesser than for my tears.

For the first time since I’d stepped into the darkness of leading them alongside Rokath, I felt…respected in my vulnerability.

“I still think of him often, usually late in the night. But I sleep knowing that I am fulfilling his wish for me. That he’d want me to make something of myself. Because then his sacrifice was worth it.”

“That’s why we have to win this war,” another murmured.

I turned my attention to him. “Exactly. And we will win.” My voice grew stronger, steadier. I straightened my spine. “You are all so brave, battling for your realm. Protecting those you love. Sacrifices are an unfortunate part of this war. I am so grateful for you, as our dead friends were grateful for us. Together, we will honor their memory.”

Several added their assent. Exen caught my eye, giving me a slight dip of his chin. The approval swelled in my chest, healing another piece of me. In fact, the entire hour had helped me see my trauma in a new light. The males too looked at me, not as the mate of the Halálhívó, not as the Szélhámos, but as an equal to them.

And that was the greatest gift of all.

“Thank you for allowing me into your session,” I said, voice thick with emotion.

Exen picked up a small clock from the floor beside him. “We’re only a minute from the next gong. If you need to prepare, now is the time.”

A handful of males, including Mak, rose and went to a far corner of the room, where thick cushions lined the walls. From a small table, many grabbed balls of cotton and shoved them into their ears.

The rest grabbed chairs and arranged them in neat stacks, out of the way. Then, they approached their brothers and sat with them all through the tolling. Jaws clenched. Fingers curled. Nostrils flared.

Exen stood beside me, watching the group until the last sound faded. Then, with trained efficiency, they gathered their belongings and headed for the door. Most stopped to salute me, warming me from the inside out.

“How are you feeling, Szélhámos?” Exen asked as the last few made their way to the hall beyond.

“Awed. Heartbroken. So many things.” I let out a small, breathy laugh. “Do you do this often?”

“Several times a day. It is heavy work, and some days are more draining than others. But giving these soldiers the relief they need makes it all worth it,” he replied.

A knock on the oak drew my attention. On the threshold, Rokath stood, his gaze sweeping over me. “Exen,” he greeted the male as he approached.

“Halálhívó.” Exen swept into a deep bow—because to him, Rokath wasn’t his leader, but a member of the nobility.

I shook my head to clear it. Too often I forgot that if the Kral died, Rokath would inherit the throne.

“Did you get lost, little imposter?” Rokath spoke in my mind.

“Actually, I didn’t. I was right where I was supposed to be.” The words flowed out of me with ease. Because I believed them wholeheartedly. I needed to see this. I needed to see what else I was fighting for other than equality for females in the realm.

And these males needed to see me too.

I had no doubt they’d go and spread the word to their units of my compassion and kindness. That I had strength too, even if it wasn’t in the physical sense that they so often defaulted to.

“Coming for a session of your own?” Exen asked my mate.

The corner of Rokath’s mouth twitched up. “Merely to discover where the Szélhámos had gone when I didn’t find her in the female barracks.”

Exen glanced at me. “Please know that you are welcome to join us at any time. Both of you.”

“Thank you, Exen,” I said sincerely, meeting his gaze. “I’d love to learn more about your magic in the future. For now, though, I do need to see to the accommodations.”

“I am available to you anytime,” he replied.

I dipped my head, not because he ranked higher than me, but out of respect. Rokath offered him some parting words before I followed him into the hall. Unlike the last time I’d wandered down it, it bustled with males coming and going.

“I thought you had to prepare for Xannirin and Kiira’s arrival?” I asked down our bond. A flash of something—metal striking metal—entered his mind a moment before he shoved it away and responded.

“I finished early and came to find you. Imagine my surprise that you were on the completely wrong side of the keep.” His voice was smug even in his head.

“If you say I told you so…”

A laugh rumbled down our connection. “You’re already thinking it, and that’s enough.”

Rokath led me through a complex maze to the empty barracks. Massive arched doors awaited us, and with a tug on the massive rings, Rokath threw them open. Instead of a musty, disused smell, citrus and vinegar greeted me. I stepped inside, noting an expansive sitting area toward the front, the cushions crisp and pillows fluffed. Beyond a barrier wall, rows and rows of bunks waited, sheets already tucked tight against the mattresses.

My feet carried me forward and past Rokath as I noted the bright shine on the windows near the ceiling, the polish on the tiles in the attached bathing chamber. The pristine mirrors hanging over a row of basins.

Mouth open, I spun on my heel and faced my mate. “Did you do this?”

“Personally? No. This is a job for the new recruits,” he stated. Both those riotous burgundy eyes sparkled with amusement.

A small smile tugged up the corners of my mouth. “Thank you.”

A sound like rolling thunder emanated from his chest as he stepped toward me. Brushing his knuckles across my cheek, he held me captive with his gaze. “I do have another gift for you.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Do you now?”

His other hand emerged, holding a cloth-wrapped package. “When did you–”

“I left it here when I didn’t find you since I knew we’d return,” he interrupted me.

I accepted the object from him, tugging on the corners of the fabric to unveil it. His hand pressed over mine, stilling them. I lifted my gaze to meet his.

“Before you open it, I want you to know something.” His expression was deadly serious, and his gravelly tone sent a shiver down my spine.

“What’s that?” I asked, head cocking to the side.

“This is not a means to control you.”

Curiosity curled through me. I lifted a brow, and he retreated, leaving me to finish opening his gift.

The cloth fell away, and a sharp breath escaped me, echoing off the tile like a solemn vow. Because this wasn’t a mere gift—it was a symbol.

The ebony helmet shone as light kissed its surface. Unlike Rokath’s, raised whorls decorated the otherwise smooth metal. Burgundy roses ringed thick spikes swept off the top and back. The shape curved over my face, dipping to a severe point at the bottom. A slit across the middle left room for my eyes, broken by another that dropped toward my mouth.

It was fierce. Deadly. Beautiful.

“I had this made for you, not to force you to cover your face again, but to show the world who you truly are. Imposter.” Rokath drew my attention to him as he stepped forward, his form foggy.

A sob lodged in my throat. He’d made this for me. Thought about each detail, and for how long? How long had he kept it hidden in the recesses of his mind so I wouldn’t know?

He’d commissioned this, for me, so I could be his true equal. In every way.

Carefully, I turned it and placed it over my head. It settled with surprising ease. Through the narrow eye-slit, I met my mate’s gaze—and the reverence made my breath hitch. “Thank you.” I had no other words to offer him, but the surge of emotion down our bond gave voice to everything I could not.

Rokath’s fingers dipped beneath the sharp point of the helmet and tipped my chin up. “Your devotion has healed me, as mine has healed you. But our love? It does not merely heal. It hunts. When you wear this beside me on the battlefield, the world will tremble at our feet. The Fates themselves cannot defy our will.”

The conviction of his words solidified in my bones. Imbued me with further strength. “We’ll make the Angels kneel for us. Worship the ground upon which we stand.”

A wicked smile curved my mate’s lips. “That’s my devious little imposter.”

He eased the helmet over my head and held it out for me to take. I tucked it under my arm, careful not to let it slip. Together, we emerged from the barracks and into the sunlight. I let it wash over my face and gleam off my beautiful new helmet.

Rokath secured the doors behind him. He really had taken care of everything. We’d had a rocky start upon reuniting with the army. Tension, conflict, strife. His fears of losing me again shoving in the way of our progress. But now? His commitment to this path—to showing the world I was his equal—brought fresh tears to my eyes.

He swiped them away with his thumbs as he looked down at me like I was his reason for breathing. “Now, let’s go train. I need to ensure you’re capable of killing even me by the time we return to the front.”

“Who says I cannot already?” I teased.

He snorted and shook his head. “The first time I gave you a dagger. I even pressed it into my chest for you. You still failed.”

I rolled my eyes. “That was months ago. I’m much better now.”

He leaned down, his hot breath ghosting across my ear. “Then show me.”

With that challenge, he retreated, his gaze never leaving me. Heat flooded my veins, and I raced after him. His long strides ate the distance to the training area, leaving me jogging to keep up. When we reached it, males were already fighting, sweaty, and cursing one another.

Dirt kicked up beneath my boots as I donned my helmet again, the glint of it drawing the attention of soldiers on the periphery. As I passed them, they regarded me warily.

I merely grinned beneath my mask.

Let them think that I was still lesser than them because of what was between my legs. I’d prove soon enough that I was worthy of my place here, leading them.

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