Текст книги "Horns of Wicked Ebony"

Автор книги: Lacey Lehotzky

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Текущая страница: 22 (всего у книги 43 страниц)

His mouth thinned as he glared at all of us. “I am not okay with this.”

“Then let me show you what other suffering has happened in your name, and maybe you can appreciate for a mere fucking second, what we’ve done for you.” Rokath unbuttoned his tunic and stripped it from his body. Tossing it on the floor, he turned and flashed scars I knew all too well.

“Here,” he pointed to a spot on his ribs inked more heavily than others, “is where I took an arrow. It nearly hit my lungs. I fought for three hours with it embedded in my side. And here,” he gave us his back and pointed to a spot just above his hip bone, “an Angel stuck a dagger as I fought off four more in front of me.”

Sorrow sank into my bones as Rokath detailed the myriad of ways he’d brushed death. Of course, I’d known he never held back from the fighting, but this?

This slashed my heart in an entirely new way.

Rokath flipped his palms up and shoved them outward, one for Xannirin and the other for Kiira, to see. A white scar from each of the stakes Zaph put through them decorated the centers. Kiira sucked in a breath and leaned forward. Tentatively, she reached for one, tracing a finger over the puckered skin.

“Zaph staked me to the ground while he slaughtered all my soldiers. Their screams echo in my dreams when I manage to sleep. For years, my life has been nothing but death and blood. My body, my mind, my soul have absorbed it all and channeled it into what I do best: killing. The rage inside of me still burns. But I want you to fucking acknowledge for once what I do for you, Xannirin,” he bit out, curling his fingers into his palms and hiding the scar. “And don’t you dare tell me I am incapable of protecting my mate. Or that I shouldn’t spare a second for her. And if you ever deign to suggest to others a location where she is vulnerable, I will have your balls.”

Xannirin exhaled, long and slow. The tension bled from his shoulders as he looked between the three of us.

Is he finally seeing reason?

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. A hand smoothed back his tangled hair, and he worked the leather from its lengths. No one spoke as he fixed it again. “I never should have said that, Rokath. I am sorry. So fucking sorry. To you and to Kiira.” He paused, his throat working while she held her chin high. “I cannot undo what has happened to you, Kiira. But I can ensure it doesn’t happen again in the future. And to you, Assyria. I have treated you terribly when I should have welcomed you into House Vrak.”

My brows shot up my forehead at his almost-apology.

“You were right, Rokath.” His voice was hoarse and no louder than a whisper. “This all spiraled out of control because of my ambition. But you can’t say it’s the only thing that started it. Our fathers couldn’t have protected us like you have.”

Silence reigned among us for many minutes. An inferno of emotion twisted inside Rokath at Xannirin’s acknowledgement. I studied my mate, trying to discern exactly what those words had brought up in him.

“I’ll make an appearance tomorrow during training hours and declare my support for the integration.”

At Xannirin’s promise, my jaw nearly hit the floor. Kiira and I exchanged a look of surprise.

“Afterward, I will depart for Uzhhorod, and I will find other powerful females for your army, Rokath.”

I could only blink at the Kral.

Rokath was less convinced, his jaw still clenched. “Will you?”

Xannirin nodded, opening his arms and letting them hang by his sides. “Aye. I have heard you all.”

A beat passed, and then Kiira spoke. “I will stay behind once you go. I am tired of pretending to be the most pious female in the whole Demon Realm. I need a break.”

Xannirin nodded. “Remain here. I will cover for you when I return to Uzhhorod. But I do need to arrive with new stories in hand. You are the expert at this, Kiira. I trust your judgement.”

I scrutinized the Kral. His words, his posture, all of it seemed sincere. And yet I couldn’t shake this sick feeling in my stomach when I looked at him.

“We have been, and always will be a team,” Kiira added, glaring at him as if she too struggled to believe his words. “You just need to see all of it again, Xannirin. You drifted too far out on your own without appreciating everything we did in your name.”

“You’re right,” he told her. “I won’t let that happen again. We can do anything so long as we do it together.”

“Aye,” Rokath affirmed, though he regarded the Kral with wariness.

“Why don’t we sit now that cooler heads are prevailing and speak of what we need to do next?” Kiira suggested. Tension still hung like a thick fog in the air, but the four of us managed to settle around an expansive dining table off to one side without killing each other.

Honestly, Kiira’s admission had thrown a bucket of ice water over these two hot-headed males. Their sober expressions as they cleaned their faces spoke to how deeply they cared for their cousin.

“If I might make a suggestion,” Rokath started, shifting in his seat. “To sell the idea to the nobles of integrating the army, we can say the best fuck you to the Angels is to allow our powerful magic-wielding females to overwhelm them on the battlefield. Since so many already believe them to be second-class citizens, it will stroke the egos of many Nayúr.”

Xannirin opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Rokath’s satisfaction at rendering his cousin speechless drifted down our bond. I smothered a smug expression.

“Let me put it this way. If we let them fight too, we show the Angels just how powerful we really are, that we don’t need males to defeat all their forces. We raze our way through the northern part of their realm, setting each city ablaze.”

Rokath paused, shooting me a wink. I sent him a devious grin back. Oh, I really liked his reasoning here. Even if Xannirin wanted to refuse, he couldn’t with this logic.

“Then we surround Sivy and execute the Koron and Korona. You sit on both thrones, you give the Angels one less reason to hate you, one less reason for them to resist your rule, and then every fucking day you show them we are the superior race.”

Xannirin’s eyes brightened. I held my breath.

Is Rokath really convincing him?

“It is an…intriguing possibility,” Xannirin finally spoke. “The nobles will likely buy into this, yes. More than anything else you’ve suggested before.”

Because, much like Xannirin, they were a bunch of self-important assholes. I’d gotten a full taste of that mentality being married to Vagach.

“Once we win a few battles, they’ll believe even more,” I pressed, determination swelling within me. Rokath gave a subtle nod, and I continued. “Most of the females Kiira brought have powerful magic. With the High Priestess as witness, everyone will believe the stories she writes back to you about the glory we are claiming for the Demons.”

“They will crave news from the front. Stories of the Szélhámos, the mate of the Halálhívó,” Kiira added in a rush. “Especially with how I write of them. It has been some time since I was able to craft stories of our mystique, Xannirin. You remember how quickly they swayed the populace before. The mythos of the Halálhívó and the Szélhámos of them will intrigue many minds.”

Xannirin rubbed his jaw, considering all the words aimed at him. “I can see it. But…” he trailed off, leveling his intense gaze on me. I narrowed my eyes on him in return, my posture stiff and defiant. “Do I have your word that you won’t use your newfound status to move against me?”

A scoff slipped out before I could stop it. My nails dug into my arms. How fucking dare he question that I’d want his Fates’ damned throne? Was that why he’d sent an assassin after me in the first place?

“For fuck’s sake, Xannirin,” Rokath snapped. “We have no designs on your seat. That was what Assyria yelled down our bond when I was moments from killing you. I have no desire to rule.”

I held up a hand to silence my mate. Then, holding the gaze of the Kral of all the Demons, I rose, splaying my hands out across the polished wood, one finger at a time. I leaned forward, lifting my lips from my teeth. “You may be the Kral, but I am the Szélhámos.”

A riot of shadow swirled around me, and I pulled Xannirin’s face to my own within the span of a breath. He paled as he beheld his reflection. I ensured I mirrored his hateful expression too. His voice came out with my next words. “Rokath could slaughter you and no one would ever know. We’d rule for millenia more, no one the wiser. I suggest you refrain from pissing either of us off if you’d like to keep your useless ass on your precious throne.”

Then, I dropped my power and eased back into my chair.

Rokath’s hungry gaze caught my attention out of the corner of my eye, but it was nothing compared to the utter distraction coming down our bond. Gravel rolled through his tone as he spoke in my mind. “I don’t know whether to be terrified or impressed. Those insults were sharper than my sword.”

“Don’t forget I can aim them in your direction anytime,” I shot back.

A dark chuckle echoed in my mind. “I never will.”

Kiira covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hide her amusement, as Xannirin merely blinked at me.

After a moment, he cleared his throat, shifting in his chair like my words had set it ablaze. “All right then. You have all made your points. I will ensure the nobles believe in this story, as well as the unveiling.” He glanced sidelong at Kiira, and I recalled our conversation about her not asking for forgiveness for sending that missive. “So long as you can continue the omnipresence of us, adding Assyria to the mix now, I will do my part.”

Tension visibly bled from Kiira’s shoulders. My own chest eased too.

“Done,” Rokath and Kiira said at the same time.

Resigned, Xannirin slumped back, arms crossed.

“There’s one more thing,” Kiira added softly, twisting her long hair around her finger and securing it at the nape of her neck.

A muscle jumped in Xannirin’s jaw. “What?”

“I had another prophecy,” she stated, bringing her hands to rest on the table in front of her again.

He sat up straighter, arms dropping. “When? Of what?” His voice was laced with more enthusiasm and excitement than it had been in his entire time at the military academy thus far.

“Rokath and Assyria in the streets of Sivy. With an army of males and females at their backs.” Kiira smiled, though it wasn’t one of her warm and kind ones. No, she looked like she was moments from lunging across the table and ripping her cousin’s throat out with her sharp teeth. “So it is a good thing you chose the right side of this fight, Xannirin.”

His mouth hung open. “But I thought–”

“That the visions couldn’t change?” she finished for him.

He nodded, disbelief etched into his expression.

“As did I. But after discussing the timing with Rokath and Assyria–”

“You told them before me?” he snapped, eyes darkening.

She glared at him. “It concerned them, so yes.”

Xannirin’s fingers tightened over the polished wood. “Go on.”

“As I was saying,” she drawled, “the vision came to me shortly after Rokath chose Assyria over his soldiers. By choosing her, he changed his path. He changed all our paths.”

Is she going to tell him about hearing the word sacrifice?

I waited with bated breath for her to continue to speak. To my surprise, she left it at that. Though I was quickly learning that despite all their supposed trust in one another, none of the three ever quite revealed all they knew.

“How is that possible?” Xannirin mused, loosening his grip. Instead, he thumbed his lower lip, going deep into thought.

Would the Fates have revealed a new scene to Kiira had Xannirin continued to refuse these changes?

“The Fates are Gods. We are not, despite how we purport ourselves,” Kiira warned. “Should they wish for something to change, they possess the power for that. They were clearly working through Assyria in that moment. In all the moments before that too, especially on the day the army arrived in Stryi to conscript, I think.”

Xannirin scrutinized me again, though this time without as much contempt as before. I still didn’t offer him any less of my ire. “I am beginning to see now.”

“About fucking time,” I muttered under my breath, attention flicking to Rokath. He lounged, one ankle thrown across a knee, like this conversation was boring instead of essential to our future. His bicep flexed as he braced his head on a closed fist.

“More changes will come, Xannirin. More choices. Hopefully with less severe consequences than what I faced.” He glanced at me, our eyes locking like they had when our mate bond snapped into place. His love flooded me, easing the aches in my heart. “But they will come nonetheless. Since we do not know exactly why Kiira’s visions changed, it’s best that each of these moments be weighed with the utmost care.”

“With the stakes this high, it would be unwise to act rashly,” he acquiesced. Silence lingered for a few moments as we all considered what the future might hold. “I’ll return to Uzhhorod the day after tomorrow. You need all the females you can get, Rokath. This time, I sincerely promise that you will have them. The most powerful I can find.”

“Battle ready powers would be best, no matter the eye color,” I added because I was a fucking leader now too and he needed to respect that.

Xannirin dipped his head. “Kiira, if you have any messages you want to send, anything specific you want told or repeated, please get that to me tomorrow.”

“I will,” she promised, a half-smile tugging up the corner of her mouth.

“And you,” he turned his attention to me. “Make House Vrak proud.”

That was not what I was expecting him to say.

Determination straightened my spine. “I will.” But I didn’t agree for me. I agreed for Kiira, for the other females of this realm. Who needed to see what we could become. Who needed a symbol to ignite the fire in their hearts. Whose saw through the lies with devious eyes.

We would win this war. And when the final flakes of ash fell, our world would never be the same.

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33

The smooth bannister slid beneath my fingers as I ascended the endless steps to the top of our tower. My thighs protested every press of my foot, having spent all their energy already this afternoon during training. Behind me, a laugh rumbled in Rokath’s chest. “Sore, little imposter?”

“Every day I wake up thinking it can’t get any worse. To my horror, every day, it does,” I replied through jagged breaths. Any moment, my heart might give out with how forcefully it pounded against my ribcage.

“Wait,” Rokath said, his tone utterly serious. But I wasn’t going to argue with a break climbing the stairs. I heaved down air and faced him, wondering what he wanted now.

He cocked his head ever so slightly to the side, as if he were listening for something. “Do you hear that?”

The only sound—other than my mate’s voice—was the blood thrumming in my ears. “No?”

Rokath moved past me, and with a huff, I dragged myself behind him. He stopped at the nearest window, angling himself so he could look up toward the small balcony perched on the top.

“Reaper’s eye,” he cursed, then broke into a jog.

“What?” I panted, attempting to keep up with him and utterly failing. He disappeared from my sight in seconds, and somehow I hated him even more for how easily he trekked up this torture device.

By the time I reached our rooms, the door was flung wide, and Rokath was already pressing his weight into the stone that hid the secret passage leading to the roof. Grem and Zeec were on their feet, their sharp barks echoing in the space.

My brows pinched even more than they already were as I braced my hands on my hips. “Is someone up there?”

He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Not someone. Lots of someones.”

“Stay,” I instructed the hounds, following him up even more fucking stairs. I was going to start leaving one of these windows open so I could fly up after training. Or maybe Grem and Zeec could be trained to pull a litter with me strapped to it.

A few shocked screams greeted me as I ascended the final step. Rokath already stood beyond the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “What is going on here?”

I squeezed by him, surveying the group of soldiers—male and female—who had all fallen to one knee at the sight of him. “Halal–Halálhívó, we are performing the initiation ritual,” one male managed to stammer out. Without warning, Rokath called on his wings, nearly knocking me to the side in the process, and floated higher, turning toward Xannirin’s tower.

The Kral had departed that morning for Uzhhorod, so no one should have been over there other than Kiira.

Fury etched his expression when he landed again. I subtly kicked the back of his leg in protest. But his thighs were harder than the bronze we wielded and all I succeeded in doing was furthering my own pain.

“No, you absolutely are not,” Rokath snapped, his tone abrasive. “When did this start again?”

Another male—a Százados by the look of him—dared speak next. “It never really stopped, Halálhívó.”

Rokath uttered a string of curses under his breath. “We cannot spare any more recruits for this ridiculous challenge. Too many fall to their deaths.”

“Wait, what is the ritual?” I asked, circling around him and inserting myself into the middle of the conversation.

Rokath pinched the bridge of his nose. “They have to climb to the top of the spire and let the wind take them over the sea. If you don’t catch the right draft, or if you aren’t a strong flier, you’ll plummet into the ocean.”

I recalled then how strong the wind had been as we leaped from this balcony before flying to the private island. “The Halálhívó is right, that’s far too dangerous, especially with our new volunteers,” I repeated. We were a united front after all.

“But you said to treat them like we would any male,” the bold one said. Clearly, he was ready for the Reaper’s wrath. And Rokath’s.

Yet his protest sent my stomach plummeting. He was right. Would we risk the males’ respect if we forbade the females from participating?

Maariya rose from her prostrated position, and I almost groaned. Why did she have to be one of the instigators? She’d been indispensable in training, persuading even the most rigid males in her unit to help the priestesses along with others who were less amenable to the changes. If Rokath were to punish all the soldiers here, she’d be among them.

“I don’t wish to be treated differently,” she professed, daring to hold the gaze of the Halálhívó. A few others straightened in solidarity, offering the same sentiment. More than a few peeks of the devious eye tattoo greeted me as they turned their arms over.

Rokath’s mind was a whirlwind of thought. Through the tempest, I said, “If we don’t, that might hurt what we’re trying to accomplish.”

“I know. Give me a second,” came his tense reply.

Everyone looked expectantly at my mate.

“I will participate too. They will respect me more for it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I know how to fly. Besides, we leaped from here the other day.”

“When I was with you. But this? This is a solitary mission. I will not risk your life for something so asinine.”

Rokath grumbled and banished his wings. “We’ll have an initiation ritual. But it’s going to be a new one, with new rules. My rules. And no one will fucking die.”

“Whatever you say, Halálhívó,” the Százados affirmed. Rokath bristled at the casual address. I covered my mouth with the back of my hand to conceal my smile as he glowered at the male.

“It is whatever I say because I lead this army.”

The male swallowed, quaking beneath Rokath’s ire.

“Ten lashes for you tomorrow,” my mate snarled.

To his credit, he merely nodded and accepted his fate. Others averted their eyes or nudged loose stones with the toes of their boots.

“What do you need us to do, Halálhívó?” Maariya asked, settling into a stance with her hands flattened behind her lower back.

“Start by retrieving those other imbeciles and have them meet us in the fields beyond the academy. Gather everyone else too. We’ll see to Parancsok Olet and Hadvezér Rapp.” The sigh Rokath released was threaded with annoyance, but that didn’t smother the excitement brimming in each soldier’s expression.

“Yes, sir!” she replied. Then, she called out her wings and leaped into the air, sailing around the corner and out of sight.

“The rest of you, dismissed to the field,” he grumbled. Their chatter carried on the wind as they departed.

A small giggle escaped me as we returned to our rooms. “What are you going to have us do?”

“Don’t know yet. I’ll think of something on the way down.” Grem and Zeec greeted us, tails wagging, at the base of the secret passage. Rokath paused to scratch behind their ears.

I let out a long groan and shouldered past him. “Fuck, I’m going to have to go down all those stairs again.”

“And all the way back up,” Rokath added.

The thought was enough to make me weep.

“Maybe I change my mind,” I said, throwing myself onto one of the couches. Zeec trotted over, nosing my thigh and snuffling under my hand. I threaded my fingers in his soft fur, wishing I could go to sleep in it.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Rokath said, grasping my forearm and hauling me upright again. Fatigue forced every muscle to protest. “You started this. You’re going to be first across the finish line, or else I’m going to make you do it all over again.”

“Do you enjoy torturing me?” I glared at him, shoving loose tendrils of my hair behind my ears.

He leaned in close, stealing the air from my lungs. Then, he pressed a kiss to the underside of my jaw. An arm wrapped around my waist, drawing me against his hard body. “I do. I love punishing you, Assyria. You’ll be too sore and tired for me to fuck you tonight. But I will thoroughly enjoy every minute of it nonetheless.”

“Have I ever told you I hate you?” I rasped out as his tongue trailed to my pulse point. He dragged his sharp teeth over the spot, making more core clench.

“Not in a while,” he replied, retreating and leaving me breathless. The smirk he sported was wicked. “Now, let’s get going.”

Without waiting for a response, he dragged me to my feet. The moment they hit the stone stairs, I groaned again. “Just go ahead and kill me now.”

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