Текст книги "Horns of Wicked Ebony"

Автор книги: Lacey Lehotzky

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 43 страниц)

22

Ahorn sliced through the quiet, snapping me out of the papers piled on my desk in front of me. My gut twisted, instinct taking over before my mind caught up. I dragged in a deep breath, reminding myself who and where I was before my reaction got away from me. No matter how many years had passed since I graduated from the academy, that sound still brought out a visceral response.

Assyria sat upright from where she’d been reading on one of the couches across the room. Grem huffed in annoyance, shifting his head off her lap. On the floor beside her, Zeec cracked a red eye. “What was that?” she asked, brows dipping together as she looked around.

I eased my chair back, rolling out my neck and shoulders as I stood. “That, little imposter, means that someone of importance is arriving.”

The book closed with a thwack, and she set it aside immediately. “Like the Kral?”

Grem slid off the couch, stretching his long legs and then shaking out his fur. Zeec picked his head up and yawned, flashing his deadly teeth, but made no other move to rise.

“Like the Kral and the High Priestess,” I replied, rounding my desk to the corner where my sword sat. While at the military academy, I’d opted not to dress in my full metal armor on a daily basis, reserving it for moments of training. The plates would wear out faster, especially with the briny air.

Instead, I donned something between a dress uniform and fighting leathers when I wasn’t in the ring. This was no exception, and I was forced to attach my sheath to my hip instead of to my back like I normally preferred.

Assyria jumped to her feet, smoothing out her hair and jerking on the hem of her tunic to straighten it. Then she looked down at her dark leather pants and long-sleeved wool top. “Do I need to change? This is not formal enough to meet with the Kral.”

“If Xannirin has a problem with it, he can lodge a complaint with the edge of my sword,” I growled, raking my gaze over my mate’s body. Her clothes hugged her curves in the best way, highlighting the toned muscle from her years working the fields with her family and the curved waist that made me want to fall to my knees and worship every inch of her. After weeks of battle training, her arms and shoulders carved themselves into lethal weapons too.

It would be a mistake to underestimate her pretty exterior. I’d seen plenty of times the fire that waited to burn underneath.

She popped out a hip and propped a fist there as she locked eyes with me. “Are you ready, though?”

The last time I’d seen my cousins had been at the ball prior to our departure. I’d dragged Kiira into the hall along with my mate to admonish them. Xannirin had told me upon my return that I needed to pull myself together and stop allowing Assyria to affect me so deeply. To say we parted on good terms would have been an overstatement.

At the time, he’d been nearly as unhappy as I had been about my newfound mating bond.

I didn’t expect that to have changed either, despite how I’d come to love Assyria. This reunion would not be without high tensions.

I’d fought those fucking white fanatics for centuries. But when it came to opposing my own blood? That was a battle I was unprepared for.

Why the fuck did I care so much what my cousins thought? Normally I barked orders and received little pushback. Yet with the integration of females into the army, I was wading into political territory where I didn’t wield absolute autonomy.

“Aye,” I grumbled, hating that she could sense my nervousness. I grabbed my horned helmet and settled it over my head. With only the slits in the ebony skull revealing the villain beneath, I felt at ease. Power thrummed in my veins as the mask of the Halálhívó slipped into place. The females needed to see who the fuck I was upon their arrival.

As did Xannirin.

With one last check in the mirror, I whistled at the dogs. Grem trotted to the door, and after a quick shake of his fur, Zeec followed. Assyria grabbed her rose-covered helmet, giving one of the whorls a quick polish with her sleeve, then secured it in place.

Those devious burgundy eyes glinted behind the black metal. “I’m ready.”

“Then let’s go,” I growled, striding for the door. Yanking the handle, I allowed her to pass under my arm and enter the hall first. Noise rose as we descended the stairs, the males eager to glimpse the new arrivals. Near the bottom, we caught up to Rapp, whose pace was still closer to a slug’s despite the copious amounts of pium he imbibed daily.

Clapping him on the shoulder, I hurried him along so we wouldn’t be late to greet Xannirin and Kiira.

“Think I should have put on a different tunic? The bandage is so apparent in this one,” he joked, shrugging my hand off.

I glanced at his attire. Sure enough, his gray shirt hung low down the center, revealing the top of the white dressing covering his still-healing wound. “Why are you still wearing that? I thought the healer said you didn’t need to cover it anymore.”

“Aye, well that was until I popped a few stitches yesterday and had to be rebandaged,” he grumbled. Behind us, Assyria laughed.

“Stop trying to draw a fucking bow,” I groused. “You’re only delaying how soon you can actually fight again.”

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t be doing the same damn thing,” Rapp snapped.

I opened my mouth to retort, but Assyria smacked my back. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

Rapp snorted. “Have I ever told you how much I love that she gives you so much shit?”

We made the final descent toward the courtyard, and I growled, “Knock it off both of you and set examples for the soldiers.”

“He just doesn’t want us to have fun at his expense,” Assyria said, shooting Rapp a grin.

I halted our procession and turned to my mate. “I can make it all go away. Quite handily, in fact. You’ll be running laps around the academy until you can’t breathe. Then, your smart mouth will finally remain shut.”

She crossed her arms and cocked her head. “You’d rather silence me that way than other ways?”

I nearly choked as Rapp barked a laugh. “Can you leave me out of your foreplay? Also, we’re going to be late.”

Muttering about Assyria’s attitude under my breath, I marched us forward again. The exterior doors brought with them a blast of salty air with more than a little bite. Winter had descended on the Demon Realm, along with the gales off the coast.

“Makes me almost miss the Paks Desert,” Rapp commented, attempting to hide his shiver as we exited the open air hall into the courtyard. Soldiers knelt in a massive wave, already in sharp formation.

Olet waited at the gates, his maroon armor gleaming and hands secured behind his lower back. He greeted the three of us with a message. “The scouts spotted the banners of House Vrak a few miles out. The Kral and the High Priestess should be here any time.”

“Any notes on their numbers?” I asked.

“Several thousand by the looks of them. Though I can’t say they were pleased when they saw they were all female.” Olet shifted his weight and let out a long sigh. “We have a long road ahead of us, I’m afraid.”

A muscle feathered in my jaw. Those who arrived with us knew of the plans, but we hadn’t made a formal announcement to those already in residence.

Today would be that day.

“I appreciate your support, Olet.”

He dipped his head. “Of course, Halálhívó.”

I took a step back and shouted at the males manning the gates. “Open them!”

Above us, instructions barked between the sentries. With a groan, the siege doors began to move, their massive chains wrapping around each other with loud clinks. Assyria, Rapp, and Olet followed me into their yawn. Behind us, the soldiers rose and marched forward.

It was a maneuver I’d practiced countless times during my years as a youngling here. Whenever my father or the Kral had arrived, we’d done the exact same thing. I shoved away the memories of those bastards and focused on who approached us now—my cousins.

Assyria and I planted ourselves at the head of the road leading away from the academy, the highest ranking officers flanking us. The soldiers fanned out behind us, standing for inspection. Grem and Zeec loped through the grass, scenting the new arrivals. A sharp whistle brought them back to my side.

Hoofbeats drummed against the dirt, sending a billowing dust storm in their wake. The Kral ascended the final hilltop astride a beastly black stallion, slowing his mount to a stop. The clouds parted then like they’d been waiting for him, his gem-encrusted crown glittering in the sunlight. His long hair was tied atop his head, and his beard was neatly trimmed. A sweeping one-shoulder burgundy cape covered his formal attire, buttons gleaming as if the jacket had just been pulled from his wardrobe and not accompanied him on a weeks-long ride through the Demon Realm.

Beside him was Kiira, a silver circlet ringing her head, glittering with enough diamonds to rival Xannirin. Her black dress whipped in the wind, along with the sheer veil that covered her face. With reins gripped in both hands, an array of glimmering bracelets bounced as she descended the hill at a canter.

Ranking members of the Kral’s Guard framed them both, their red armor glinting. I tore my attention away from my cousins as the next wave of travelers crested the hill. Among the supply wagons, hundreds of black-robed females rode on horseback. Still more traversed the path on foot. I had to blink a few times to ensure I wasn’t hallucinating.

They are all priestesses?

More and more spilled into view like an overturned inkwell. I counted them, unable to believe what I was seeing. Assyria’s excitement trickled down our bond, drawing my attention away from them.

“There are so many!” she exclaimed, looking up at me through the slits in her helmet. “I thought only a handful would come.”

“As did I,” I replied, some of the tension in my chest easing. If they’d brought so many, perhaps my cousins were more amenable to the idea than I had anticipated.

That brief hope was slashed when Xannirin yanked on his stallion’s reins and brought him to a halt mere feet from us. His burgundy eyes were harder than the rocks that constructed the academy’s walls. I’d stood here to greet my father more times than I cared to count, and every time, he’d looked at me with the same cold disdain that Xannirin did now.

Kiira’s mouth was pressed into a firm, thin line, her irritation apparent even beneath her veil, though her focus wasn’t on me, but our cousin.

I studied them both as everyone around me knelt for their Kral. Rapp wobbled on his way down, only for Assyria to snatch him and assist in the final descent. Behind me, the soldiers pressed their foreheads into their arms and released a battle cry.

Only once their voices died did I greet my cousins. “My Kral. High Priestess.”

In one smooth motion, Xannirin dismounted. One of his guards caught his reins as he stomped toward me. “Halálhívó.” His tone was ice as he swept his regard over me and then over my kneeling mate.

Kiira, with much more grace, approached a moment later. Her brows shot up her forehead when she beheld Rapp. “What happened here? This wasn’t in your letter!”

He picked up his head, wincing as the movement tugged on his bandage. “It is a recent development.”

“Rise, Hadvezér. There is no need for you to suffer further on my account,” the Kral commanded, and Assyria helped Rapp to his feet again. Olet, however, remained kneeling, along with the rest of the soldiers.

He stepped closer to me as Kiira went to Rapp and my mate, exchanging pleasantries. Through clenched teeth, he hissed, “Do you mean to tell me Hadvezér Trol is the only one at the front again?”

“Aye,” I growled, weaving threat into my tone. I didn’t like the way he was speaking to me as if I didn’t know exactly what I was doing. The army was my fucking domain, like Kiira’s was the spiritual realm and his was the nobility and general populace.

“What the fuck, Rokath? I thought you had everything under control, but clearly you do not.”

How dare he use my real name in the open like this.

“We’ll speak later,” I snapped, leaving no room for argument. “Now is not the time.”

“Yes, we will speak later because I need an explanation for all of this,” he snarled before stepping back. Smoothing away the fury in his expression, he greeted Rapp. My mate, however, he ignored entirely.

My fingers twitched toward my sword. That contempt would not go unanswered, but it would have to wait until later.

Thousands of priestesses clung to the hillsides by the time our formal greetings had finished. All stood tall and proud as they faced off with their male counterparts. Kiira and Xannirin came to stand beside me, at least appearing like we were a united front even if my gut told me we were anything but.

I inhaled deeply, preparing to speak. “Welcome to Fured. The time to serve your realm has come. Here, you will train as warriors of both magic and weaponry to assist in the war effort against the Angels who wish to exterminate our kind.”

The words drifted on the breeze. I turned to face the still-kneeling males. More than a few peeked from their positions at the females who waited beyond.

Xannirin cleared his throat. “You may rise.”

I shot him a glare—not that he could see it through my helmet. Before he could speak again, I addressed my soldiers. “These females have come to join your ranks. You will welcome them. Train them. Assist them. And above all, treat them as your equals. Their magic, combined with yours, will likely be the difference between victory and death. Any grumblings will be dealt with swiftly. Am I understood?”

Some expressions darkened. A handful tilted their heads to comment to their neighbors.

That is unacceptable.

Obsidian spilled from my hands, snaking across the ground to those who dared disrespect the ceremony. Shouts rang out as my magic wrapped around their legs and brought them to their knees.

“Százados, see these males disciplined after we dine,” I snarled. Without releasing my magic, I returned my attention to the females.

But before I could continue my instruction, Xannirin stepped forward. “Your place here isn’t carved into stone. You must earn it like the Halálhívó and I had to. Like these males,” he gestured to the gathered soldiers, “had to.”

A growl lodged in my throat. How dare he undermine me. He opened his mouth to speak again, but I cut him off. “You all have volunteered to serve the Demon cause, and for that, the Kral, the High Priestess, and myself thank you. As does the Szélhámos.”

I swept a hand in my mate’s direction. She took a half-step forward, her shoulders square and head held high. A few of the priestesses at the front grinned at the sight. Others whispered behind their hands to their neighbors, eyes wide.

I couldn’t allow them to get away with what I’d moment ago called discipline for. Yet before I could act, Assyria opened her palms, darkness slithering forward and around the waists of many of the rule-breakers. She hadn’t caught them all, but she’d done enough.

Her eyes flicked to me. “We’re in this together.”

Love swelled in my chest as I beheld my bold mate.

“In this army, we have rules. They do not bend, and they certainly do not break. Disobedience is punished swiftly and without mercy. Just because you are female does not exempt you from the same disciplinary action I would dole out to a male. I suggest you learn them, and learn them well. Any knowledge of rule breaking makes you automatically complicit in the act itself.”

Chins lifted, shoulders squared, and determination etched into their expressions, save for those with Assyria’s shadows curling around them, barely distinguishable from their dresses.

The Kral moved in front of my mate, blocking her from view. My nails bit into my palm. Yet another slight. My attention slid to Kiira, who watched our cousin with a placid expression. The tightness in the corners of her eyes told an entirely different story, however.

What is going on between them?

“I’m not certain, but I sense it too,” Assyria spoke into my mind. I hadn’t realized I’d broadcasted the thought down our bond.

In two lithe strides, the High Priestess was parallel with the Kral. “We’ve had a long journey, and you deserve a rest. Halálhívó,” she kept her attention on Xannirin but spoke to me, “would you please show us the way to our quarters?”

Clearing my throat, I gestured for Olet to step forward. “This is Parancsok Olet. He will ensure you are all settled and assigned bunks in the barracks. Afterward, he will show you the way to the dining hall.”

Xannirin and Kiira returned to Rapp, Assyria, and me as Olet dismissed some of the males and requested others help with the unloading of supplies. Soon, the entrance to the military academy was a flurry of activity.

“I’d like to freshen up before dinner,” Xannirin pronounced, staring me down. I held his gaze with equal animosity.

Had this tension lay between us for longer than Assyria and I had been mated? I truly didn’t know what to make of this open hostility toward me.

“You know where your rooms are.” My voice was all hard gravel. Assyria shifted closer to me. Without thinking, I rested my hand on her lower back, needing to ground myself in something before I lost my temper in front of everyone.

“I’ll help with Hadvezér Rapp back into the fortress,” Kiira announced, settling herself against his bad side. With tender care, she looped an arm around his waist to support him.

“I really don’t need help,” he protested, but she silenced him with a look.

Like Assyria, Kiira would set someone on fire if it suited her. She had a depth of strength that had always impressed me. I supposed we all did, after the abuse we suffered at the hands of our fathers.

The Kral’s Guard formed around them as they entered the fray, leaving Assyria and I standing at the head of the road. Grem and Zeec rose, trotting among the priestesses as they streamed past us. Many paused, even for a brief moment, to study my mate.

Ebony dripped from her and pooled at her feet like it too knew the moment was essential to our future. Assyria was made for me—made for this—and yet, I couldn’t shake the truth gnawing at my gut.

The real battle was only beginning. And this time, I might have to bleed for more than victory.

I might have to bleed for what we believed in.

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23

Grem nudged my thigh, demanding affection like the greedy hound he was. I obliged, fingers raking through his soft black fur as I surveyed the flurry of activity outside the academy. Priestesses swept by, their whispers about my helmet planting seeds of pride in my chest. Still more spoke of my honorific. I mirrored Rokath’s stoicism, but really, I wanted to race forward and hug them all.

Thousands of them.

Hope hitched my breath. They were in Fured because of me. But did they know that? Had the Fates offered Kiira another vision? Did she prepare them for what was to come?

Tears burned the backs of my eyes. This would make an enormous difference—not only for the war, but for Demon society as a whole.

Once we convinced the detractors, that was. Given the expressions on many males’ faces, Xannirin’s overt disdain, and Rokath’s fury, we were only a few steps down this long, winding path.

Rokath stroked his thumb across my lower back. “What’s bothering you?” I asked down our bond.

“The way Kiira and Xannirin were acting…” he trailed off, his thoughts a violent storm.

“All is not well between them. Or between Xannirin and you,” I added, hoping that would anchor him.

“That is an understatement. The question is why and when it began,” he grumbled. With a gentle nudge, we began our trek back into the academy.

“Well, they’re not fucking like I thought Banand and Araquiel might have been,” I teased, attempting to pull him from his dark mood.

His flat expression told me he was unamused by my joke.

I rolled my eyes. “I only really met with Xannirin once before. Any other time, it was mostly in passing. Though he seemed far colder to me earlier than he did when I was living in the adjacent room. As for Kiira…”

The High Priestess had greeted me with enthusiasm and kindness. Rapp too. But when it came to Rokath and Xannirin, her behavior had been entirely different. Less with my mate than their cousin, though.

“She seems more guarded with you than before.”

He nodded, acknowledging my response. “If your perceptiveness reveals anything else to you, do let me know.”

“Guess we’ve found what else I can help you with. Since you have the emotional capacity of a drop of Grem’s drool, I can be your people-interpreter,” I quipped, grinning up at him.

“Just because you might be more perceptive than me does not mean I am incapable of it,” he growled, a warning in his tone I didn’t heed. Grem and Zeec disappeared into the crowded courtyard. Most were used to their presence and paid them no mind as they sniffed.

“Sure. Let’s go eat dinner before you try to convince yourself you are the prettier one too,” I teased, tugging on his hands to lead him toward the commons. While the gong hadn’t yet sounded, it would soon, judging by the angle of the sun.

Rather than allow me to direct our path, he yanked me into an alcove, out of sight. Grabbing his helmet by the horns, he tugged it over his head, revealing a dark expression that made my thighs press together. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. Heard the things you think about me.”

He set his skull-shaped helm off to one side before reaching for mine, his eyes blazing with primal intent. I offered him a saccharine smile as he braced his hands on either side of my head. “You’re a male. Your attention is far more overt than mine could ever be. Those lustful thoughts you hear from me? Just an echo of your own.”

Then, I patted the center of his chest with as much condescension as I could muster and slipped out from under his arms. Dipping to the ground, I found the rose-decorated metal and tucked it beneath my arm. He muttered under his breath, then his heavy footsteps followed me down the open air hall. Our hounds rejoined us as we joined the crowd streaming toward the scent of garlic and rosemary.

Three times we had to stop short as males crossed our path, carrying bags, crates, and other supplies toward the eastern barracks. Priestesses accompanied them, keeping their distance. Mistrustful looks were as common as lustful ones.

When the gong sounded, the academy was still a hive of activity. Rokath shouted over the noise. “At ease. The dining hall will remain open and the cooks will feed you. Finish what you are doing.”

The soldiers and priestesses carried on.

We entered the commons side by side, striding purposefully toward the high table. Olet, Rapp, and Kiira were already seated and waiting for us. The long ones for the soldiers were barely half-full and yet the females who had settled on the benches whispered about my bare face.

Had they expected me to don a veil when I removed my helmet?

I kept my chin high and let them see what happened when we challenged the males who controlled us and won.

The High Priestess’s expression brightened as we approached, and she waved me into a chair beside her. Without a second thought, I slid into it, placing my armor on the ground beneath me. Kiira and I had grown close during the time I’d spent locked in Gyor Palace, and other than the one note she’d sent me about Olrus, I hadn’t spoken to her since.

Rokath took a seat beside Olet, and a moment later, Xannirin appeared in the hall. Salutes and curtseys greeted him as he passed by soldiers and priestesses alike. Yet he didn’t deign to give them an ounce of attention. No one spoke at our table as he sat.

Even the servers seemed hesitant to approach with the thundercloud hanging over him. Rokath waved them forward, and they eased into their roles, settling glasses of water in front of us, followed by steaming baskets of bread. Our dinner was once again fish, which I’d quickly learned was the norm given our proximity to the sea.

Honestly, I didn’t care so long as it wasn’t whatever that mushy, tasteless, sticky gruel was they made in the war camp. I felt bad for Trol having to endure it for so long. Whenever we departed, I’d bring him some real food—something that would last the trip at least—to express my gratitude for all his sacrifices.

“How was your journey?” I asked Kiira as I bit into a hunk of cheese.

“Uneventful. Though every town we stopped in had something to ask of us,” Kiira replied smoothly.

Xannirin stabbed at his plate with more force than necessary. Rokath glanced between them, then looked at me.

“Something is definitely off,” I said quickly to my mate.

“Like what?” I asked her.

She spread some chive-filled butter across a roll. “Mostly prayers or aid. Though many had questions about the war.” She flicked her attention to Xannirin before nipping at the bread.

The Kral finally lifted his gaze and it speared straight into me. “I wasn’t aware peasants were allowed to dine at the high table, Rokath.”

Rage flooded our bond—and it wasn’t only from my mate. My lips curled back from my teeth. Rokath beat me to speaking, though.

“She is my mate.” The final word dripped with violent intent. “Therefore she is a member of House Vrak.”

Olet and Rapp held their breath as the two faced off. I glanced below, at the tables lined now with both soldiers and priestesses. None of them paid any attention to the war waging between the cousins.

A sneer rose to Xannirin’s face. He set his dining ware down and dabbed his mouth with a cloth. “Not until you wed.”

Rokath’s face turned a shade of red I hadn’t seen since our earliest fights. His hands shook as he dug his fingers into the table. “I do not need a ceremony to know she is mine.”

Kiira leaned over and whispered in my ear. “The Kral has final say in our marriages. It is the only real power he has over us.”

Could Xannirin really force Rokath to marry another despite our bond?

“I have always considered you a member of House Vrak. Do not worry, Assyria. We’ll sort this mess out.”

Kiira’s words were a balm, and I knocked my shoulder against hers in a silent thanks.

Xannirin stole our attention. “She’s no officer. She’s not of noble blood. She can sit with the rest of them.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the priestesses.

Olet kept his head pointedly down. Rapp shifted in his seat like the wood was burning him. Though the movement brought him closer to Kiira and me. Subtly, he reached under the table and rested a hand on her thigh.

Rapp and Kiira were close friends, as both had told me. But that gesture was more than friendly—it was a sign of unspoken support. Would Rapp take Kiira’s side in any matter against Xannirin? What if it contrasted against what Rokath wanted? And where did Kiira’s loyalties lie?

I’d grown accustomed to the dynamic between Rokath and Rapp, but Rokath and his cousins were an entirely different story.

“She remains here,” Rokath stated, more than a hint of challenge in his tone.

Xannirin’s regard settled over me again. I refused to bow under it. “Like it or not, My Kral, the Fates chose to bless the Halálhívó and I with a bond. And are the Fates not wise in their weavings?”

The words that had been used on me to force me to comply, to obey, to surrender my autonomy flung back at the male responsible for most of it.

A muscle feathered in his jaw. “It’s curious, is it not, how new symbols emerge from war?” He leaned in, his focus still entirely on me. “It’s a shame how the attention can be so deadly.”

And with that, he shoved back from the table, scattering the servers behind him. In quick, precise strides, he stalked from the room. Rokath leaped to his feet, but Olet grabbed his arm and yanked him back down. “Halálhívó, I believe following the Kral now would be unwise.”

A wildfire of fury engulfed our bond as my mate stared at his cousin’s backside. Kiira reached for him, and he flinched at her touch on his arm. “Cousin, we have much to discuss. First, let’s eat. It’s been weeks since I had anything decent.”

Rokath softened at her gentle plea. With a long sigh, he turned his attention back to us. “Fine.”

I nudged him down our bond, offering my strength to him. Was I furious at Xannirin’s outlandish treatment of me? Of course. But right now, the best thing I could do was to support my mate.

After all, these were his cousins. He’d created all of this with them. If I wanted to ensure Demon society changed for the better, I’d need to learn to play along. Xannirin’s favorite game was kazat, according to Rokath. I’d lay out my bets, coerce him into a challenge he couldn’t refuse. I’d cheat victory to ensure he’d be forced to perform after his loss if I had to.

I glanced at the rows of females below. The utter joy that slipped through their veils warmed my heart and invigorated me.

I hadn’t set out from Stryi to become the figurehead of a movement. But now that I had? I’d burn everything down before I’d bend again.

And I would not let any of these females, or the rest scattered and suffering through the realm, down.

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