Текст книги "Horns of Wicked Ebony"

Автор книги: Lacey Lehotzky

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3

Soft filtering light and the slow rise of voices drew me to wakefulness. A quiet groan slipped out of me as I glanced at the bedside clock and discovered the hour. Assyria still slept, both her hands tucked under her pillow and her bare back facing me.

As gently as I could, I pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade, then slid from the bed and donned my armor. Grem and Zeec cracked red eyes but made no move to follow me as I tiptoed toward the exit. Instead, they waited until I was half out into the early morning to join Assyria.

She’d spoiled them, but I couldn’t be mad. So long as they were with her, she would be protected.

And now, more than ever, her safety was paramount.

The war tent awaited me, along with whatever horseshit the day would bring. Rapp met me halfway there, a dark cloud clinging to him. “Morning. The Százados wish to make their opinions known.”

“Fuck,” I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose.

He shifted his weight, glancing around us to ensure we were alone. “They will support you publicly, of course, but a group of them were in the command center yesterday expressing their desire to use their audience with you to be heard.” Though his tone was steady, an undercurrent of agitation remained.

“They can express whatever they want, but that won’t alter my plans.” I rolled my shoulders, trying to loosen the knot of tension in my neck.

“I know. Just hear them out, though. Make them feel like you are taking what they’re saying under advisement,” Rapp sighed. He’d been around them while I retreated the previous day. He’d led his faction alone for weeks, chasing down a third of the Angel army. Trol too. They knew the sentiment of our soldiers better than I did.

Rapp was one of the only people I trusted in this world. He was also one of the only people who could call me out on my shit and not face dire consequences.

Gripping the rim of my armor and yanking it off my body, I made some space to breathe. This part of the transformation wasn’t going to be easy. Fuck, it was so much better when fear was my method of rule. Though I’d always allowed others to speak because I wasn’t stupid enough to believe I could foresee everything, I didn’t like the idea of those so far beneath me thinking they held a modicum of influence. Not when these next few moves in this complex game of war held the difference between life and death.

“Fine, let’s go,” I grumbled. Together, we entered through the rolled-back rear flaps, first passing through a storage section before delving deeper into the space. I stopped short when I beheld my throne. The red coating of dust that had clung to it was gone, and the white bones now gleamed.

“Had it cleaned yesterday since everyone knew you were back,” Rapp shrugged, shouldering past me. A seed of appreciation bloomed inside me. I’d left it dirty since having someone polish it was akin to admitting I was present. That Rapp had seen to it while I was exhausted from my speech made my heart twist in a way that was still becoming familiar.

Voices whispered through the canvas dividing us from the adjacent space. Trol’s gruff voice was among them.

I went to my chair of bones and took a seat, arranging myself so I appeared to be lounging and bored. If I’d learned anything from Xannirin, it was that these types of appearances were important and provided strategic advantages. In our centuries of friendship, Rapp had learned that too.

Once I was settled, I dipped my chin in his direction. “Bring them in.”

He pulled back the curtain separating the two sections, revealing me. Every Parancsok and Százados in the camp was present—a number that had shrunk significantly with the deaths of my battalions. They fell to one knee, resting their foreheads on their arms in deference to their leader. Only Trol remained standing, and he dipped his chin in subtle acknowledgement of what I was about to do.

“Halálhívó,” they said in unison.

At least they still held that level of respect.

“Rise,” I told them, tone cold and emotionless.

The first did, taking a few tentative steps forward. “Halálhívó,” he began, pausing to glance at his companions.

“Do you speak for yourself, or do you need a fucking chorus?” I snapped, fingers tightening.

He whipped his attention back to me. “No, Halálhívó.”

“So say your piece.” Each word bit out of me.

His throat bobbed, and then he launched into a long-winded explanation of why he was struggling to trust that we’d actually win the war. More added onto it, some with open animosity. Most of their turmoil stemmed from the massive loss on the salt flats.

The last one, though, voiced his vehement disagreement to my proposal. Though calling it a proposal was generous. It was happening whether those under my command liked it or not.

“...and that’s why females have no place with us. You’ve said so yourself countless times, Halálhívó.” The male—a Százados from one of Rapp’s winged divisions—finished his explanation with a bowed head.

My patience frayed thinner than the Reaper’s thread just before she snipped.

I scanned each officer, letting the weight of my judgment linger, ensuring they understood the finality in my words. “I have made all those points before. Now, I have changed my mind. That is what a good leader does.” The ice in my tone was clear as the glaciers atop the Skala Mountains. Bracing my hands on the arms of the throne, I shoved to standing, then crossed my arms. “I have heard enough opinions on the matter. My decision stands. The Százados are dismissed. Parancsok, remain for a debriefing.”

Muscles ticked in jaws as the lesser officers departed. At least they had the sense to grumble only when they’d departed the black tent, though their grievances still reached my ears.

“They will come around, Halálhívó,” one of the Parancsok said as I stepped off the platform. Ignoring him, I strode into the strategy room.

I didn’t need his reassurance. These soldiers would alter their opinions or taste leather again. Insubordination was punishable by fifty lashes. I’d been generous yesterday with less for each of the loudmouths.

The Parancsok ringed the table, and Rapp and Trol settled into their respective places at either end. I braced my knuckles against the knotted wood and surveyed the pieces. Looking at the map alone was enough to make my blood boil, let alone after facing another wave of self-righteous soldiers. Some of it cooled as I dragged in a breath and took stock of the room.

The table felt larger with the missing Parancsok. We’d need to promote some new ones to take the place of the ones killed.

Definitely not from those fucking Százados, though.

The Angels—in two fucking weeks—had somehow managed to eliminate a large chunk of Rapp and Trol’s forces. As I learned upon my return, Zaph’s squads had taken Trol by surprise and killed thousands of Demons before his battalions could regroup. It was then he had known something had gone horribly wrong with my advance.

In a private moment on my second night hidden in the camp, Rapp had confessed their terror upon reuniting. Neither had heard from me. Both thought I might have died. They tasked a few trusted scouts with scouring the desert for any sign of me or our forces. Days into the search, one of Rapp’s winged Vezető had spotted Assyria and me, and per his orders, returned to find his Hadvezér.

Rapp had rushed to our aid before the Vezető had finished speaking.

That we’d been in a rough state when he found us was framing it mildly. Lower-level soldiers seeing me half-dead would have taken some of the shine and allure away from my carefully crafted persona.

Returning my attention to the map, I surveyed the stones centered around Lutsk, where we faced off with the Angels. From my quick survey from the skies, the city was all but gone. Homes crumbled into the dusty earth, half-erected walls had been blasted to pieces, and bones were everywhere. The carrion birds had quite the feast in the time the Angels had passed through and then been forced back.

Now, they hid among the rubble and spilled into the churned grasses beyond.

Taking the city—if it could even be called that anymore—would be the most difficult part of our next advance. With plenty of places to hide and support on either side, we’d have to split our forces and face off on three fronts again. News of Zaph’s victory and the discovery of my new mating bond had surely spread through the Angel’s army too.

The pressure of forcing them to retreat further while sourcing females for the army—not to mention integrating them—was enormous. Sighing, I straightened and rubbed my temples. So many paths opened before me, all of which had costs and benefits. Keeping Assyria out of the Angel’s hands again was also a challenge. We couldn’t afford another loss of twenty thousand, let alone fifty thousand soldiers.

And I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from slaughtering them all, no matter the cost. They’d hurt her once, and they’d never lay a hand on her again. She was mine to protect, to crave, to love. I’d been an asshole to her for too long, and I wanted to atone for my behavior.

Then there was the matter of Banand—the burgundy-eyed Demon with the power to create targeted plagues. According to Assyria, the Angels held him and Zurronar, a maroon-eyed Parancsok with blood magic, prisoner in their camp, along with half a dozen others.

The risk of them pressing their advantage and forcing Banand to create another pestilence was enormous. It had been incredibly effective the first time, and they’d already wiped out another mass of us. As much as I hated to admit it, Zahal Ishim had played his game well in the last year of our war.

“While Assyria was captive, she found that Banand and Zurronar were both still alive.”

The words fell like a warhammer and shattered the silence of my officers. Rapp and Trol already knew, of course, but the Parancsok did not. The seven of them all spoke at once, questions flying from their lips like a volley of arrows. I waited for the noise to die before I spoke again.

“We need to make a plan to free them. With Banand in our possession again, we can retaliate swiftly and severely for our prior losses.”

At the reminder of my sacrifice, a few mouths thinned. Guilt nibbled at my gut, but I smacked it away. Now was not the time, and the emotion had no place in protecting what was mine.

“We need to send scouts in search of where they might be kept. I’d suspect somewhere toward the rear, out of our reach. Gather your best from every battalion, especially the ones with the strongest ability to cover themselves in shadow, and prepare for a survey,” I commanded them, my tone leaving no room for argument.

“Aye, Halálhívó,” they said, though their words were lacking in enthusiasm. Many rifts still needed to be repaired, unfortunately, and that would only come with demonstration of my commitment to our victory. At least this rescue mission would start us on that path.

It would also buy us time for a raven to fly to Uzhhorod with a message for Xannirin and Kiira.

My attention slid to the two Hadvezér, who stood stoically on either end of the table. “Anything else?” I asked the officers. Their response was silence. “Good. We’ll meet again at sundown. You know what you need to do today.”

They departed, grouping up to discuss logistics of their various tasks.

Rapp and Trol remained behind. “We should invite the Angel’s leaders here for a discussion,” I growled, hate rolling like thunder in my voice. “They need to know that I am alive and they do not have the advantage they currently think they have.”

“Aye,” Rapp mused, using his tongue to fiddle with the ring in his lip.

Trol shifted his weight to the side and then rapped the small stone covering Fured against the table. “Parancsok Olet says the training is going smoothly and that control over powers increases by the day.” Olet had departed Uzhhorod with approximately ten thousand males a few weeks prior to our campaign to the north, headed to the military academy to instruct our most powerful recruits. While bodies won wars, powerful magic wielders did too. After what had happened when we split up, my decision seemed infinitely wiser than before.

“Good. Then they can work individually with the females once they arrive.” I tilted my head to the side, then used my opposite hand to give my neck a deep stretch. “I need to draft a letter before the day gets away from me.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Trol said, collecting his sword from a nearby table and reattaching it to his hip. “I’ll ensure that the soldiers don’t spend too much time grousing about the evolution of our army.”

“Thank you,” I said, and he offered me a closed-fisted salute before sweeping into the square beyond the command center.

Rapp tugged two chairs from the wall and jutted them against the wood. With a sigh, I plopped into one and grabbed a slip of parchment and stick of charcoal from the heap. I stared at the page for a long moment, wondering where to begin.

“All you need to say is that Assyria’s pussy changed you from a cold, broody bastard into one who would sacrifice fifty thousand males for her life,” Rapp chuckled, shoving at my shoulder.

I shot him a glare.

“And then your second sentence can be something along the lines of how her mouth made you see stars, also known as females joining the army to take the place of all the soldiers that died.”

A warning growl rumbled in my throat.

“Don’t forget to add that the old you isn’t completely gone, and that you’re ready to strangle me for teasing you. Otherwise, they’d worry that something really bad had happened.”

The charcoal in my hand snapped in two. “Fucking Fates.” I tossed them onto the parchment with more than a hint of frustration. “Do you need to be here?”

He tipped his head back and laughed. “Absolutely. I was deprived of opportunities to rib you for weeks.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“For what it’s worth, Rokath, I’m glad you came to your senses. Assyria is an incredible female. All she needs is someone to let her flourish.”

I blew out a long breath. “I plan on being the male that stands beside her as she blooms. Starting with this.” Then, I picked up the longer broken piece and drafted my confession to my cousins.

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4

Energy returned to my aching limbs after days in bed. Though the time felt more like weeks after the disorienting trek through the desert. At least here, there was an abundance of water. I’d never appreciated the cool, crisp taste of it before. I’d never take it for granted again.

With a groan, I rolled out of bed and onto my feet. Rokath was notably absent. The demands of running an army pulled him away more and more after his reappearance. From a pitcher perched on the small dining table, I poured myself some yellow juice and drank it down in three greedy gulps. Thirst quenched, I grabbed a cold roll and tore into it.

Grem and Zeec didn’t so much as flick an ear or crack an eye. Their chests rose and fell in a steady rhythm. The loyal hounds were as exhausted as me. The short outing to support Rokath as he addressed the males had taken a toll, leaving me bedridden for another day.

But if I continued to lie here, I’d lose what edge I’d gained while training with Rokath.

And that was unacceptable, especially now that he’d sworn to integrate females into the army. To hold him to that promise, though, I needed to insert myself in it, starting sooner rather than later.

I wouldn’t let him go back on his word. Not when it was so important to me. Not when I’d dreamed of a mate who would empower me rather than keeping me hidden.

The Fates had never been kind to me, and I still didn’t trust that this wasn’t part of their design to veil me again.

I tugged my worn leathers, still faintly smoky, and finished the last of my small meal. “Come,” I told the dogs, who obeyed, albeit with much grumbling. Each rose from the firm mattress, stretching their long legs before shaking out their shaggy black fur.

Zeec nudged into my hand, and I scratched behind his ears.

I thought emerging from within the quiet confines of our abode would be a powerful act. Yet the tension in the air was apparent immediately. While the black tents in the center were relatively protected and removed from scrutiny, it wasn’t far enough to avoid the shouts of anger that drifted in from the square where my life had taken a hard turn. Multiple times now, in fact.

Tuning into the magic of my mating bond, I sensed Rokath not too far from here, in the command center. With Grem and Zeec glued to my sides, we made the short trek and entered through the back. Passing the throne of bones upon which Rokath had sat when our eyes collided and our fates were irrevocably changed, I found him and Rapp crowding the map of Keleti.

A square of parchment was folded tight, and Rokath poured hot wax over it. I paused at the entrance and watched as he stamped a ring into it, squishing the molten red in a circle.

“What’s that?” I asked, drawing his attention.

“Change,” he rumbled. My heart swelled and that seed of doubt about his sincerity dashed away.

“Glad you’re finally mobile again, Assyria,” Rapp teased from beside him. He vacated his seat, fetched another chair, and left the one closest to Rokath open for me.

“Place,” I told Grem and Zeec, and they trotted to mats near the entrance and plopped down. Before joining the males at the table, I filled a plate with a fresh snack. Hunger gnawed at my belly, finally hydrated enough that my body could concern itself with something other than quenching my thirst.

“I take it the males are unhappy with what you announced?” I ventured, flicking my attention to the note before popping a fat grape into my mouth.

“What gave you that impression?” Rokath asked me.

I lifted a shoulder and grabbed another handful of fruit. “Trol’s yelling was fairly audible on my short walk here.”

Rapp chuckled and Rokath grumbled something incoherent under his breath. I settled my free hand over Rokath’s. “Thank you. I know this isn’t easy.”

The tender look he gave me had me melting into a puddle even more than the heat of the day creeping in. “For you, I’ll do anything, mate.”

“I know,” I whispered. We lingered in that position for a moment, love sweeping down our bond, before I retreated.

“So what are you thinking of for a rescue mission for Banand and Zurronar?” Rapp asked Rokath.

A muscle ticked in Rokath’s jaw. “Depends on where they’re located in the camp. The Angels let thousands die to get to Banand the first time. They’ll likely do the same to keep him. Which means we’ll have to lose more of our forces as well.”

A knot twisted in my gut. Rokath had already given up so much for me, and here he was preparing for more casualties. Yet this was the reality of war, I supposed. I’d been insulated from it before when Rokath kept me at arm’s length. That he and Rapp discussed their plans in front of me now spoke volumes too.

“Why do you need to free them now?” I didn’t want them to suffer, but I also didn’t understand why Rokath would risk so much so soon.

“We need to rescue them before the Angels get the idea to deliver another plague.” He blew out a long breath and rubbed circles over his temples.

“I want to help,” I said in a rush. My heart leaped at the opportunity. I could show these males that I was useful, even more than I had when Rokath was teaching me to scout.

“No. I cannot risk you falling into their hands again,” Rokath growled. Tension rolled off him in palpable waves, and a fierce protectiveness flared down our bond.

“But–”

A muscle jumped in his jaw, and a war of a different variety played out in his tormented expression.

“What else is my magic for if not for this?” I pressed, undeterred. I shot a look begging for aid in Rapp’s direction, hoping he’d stick up to Rokath for me. He’d always supported me, even when it went against Rokath’s wishes.

He gave the barest shake of his head.

I was on my own to convince my mate to hear me. “The Giver blessed me with something so powerful and unique, and the Weaver tied our fates together. This is what I am meant to do.”

“I don’t care,” Rokath snarled, his ire raining directly on me. “I want you safe. If they lay a hand on you again, I will raze their realm to the ground. I will not fail to protect you again.”

The grapes plunked against the plate as I threw them down. It appeared that some of our contention still remained, despite our confession of feelings. “Then teach me to fight. To use my magic to its fullest extent. You started before, so why not continue to do so now?”

Rokath shot to his feet, knocking his chair straight over. The dogs startled and scattered as he leaned over me, using his bulk for intimidation, like I’d seen him do so many times before.

But he didn’t scare me.

I lifted my chin and met his dark, furious gaze.

“Your place isn’t in the middle of another battlefield, Assyria. Not after what they did to you.” His words were slow, measured, controlled, but hidden beneath them was barely-restrained fear.

My lips curled back from my teeth. “My place is where I fucking want it to be. You keep saying you love me, but when I try to stand beside you, you shove me behind.”

He said nothing, only glared down at me. Because he knew, he fucking knew, I was right.

“You chose the army over me before. Don’t make that mistake again,” I hissed, nails biting into the wooden arm of my seat.

He flinched like I’d struck him and stepped away. While he righted his chair, he counted to ten in his mind, as he always did when he was trying to calm himself to speak rationally. “We could capture a few Angel females for you to impersonate,” he gritted out, each word struggling to break the barrier of his throat.

Victory was so close I could almost taste it. Though the thought of venturing into the Angel’s camp alone flipped my stomach. What if they captured me again? They probably wouldn’t let me go so easily—probably not at all.

The acrid stench of burnt flesh rose from my memories, along with the screams of the fifty thousand who had been slaughtered without mercy.

A turbulent mix of anxiety and excitement tumbled through my veins. On the one hand, what Rokath was suggesting was a massive concession for him. On the other, the trauma of being captured, nearly raped, used as a pawn, and forced to watch the Angels slaughter tens of thousands in front of me still lingered.

What would they do the next time, now that they knew possession of me meant they were Rokath’s puppeteer?

I swallowed down my fear and locked my spine straight. “And you won’t let me go alone?”

Rokath shook his head and dropped back into his seat. “Absolutely not. I would never ask or allow you anywhere near them alone. I promised to protect you, and that is what I will do, now and forever.”

The sincerity in his gravelly voice was evident. I glanced at his hands, where a pink scar decorated the very center. The spots where Zaph had staked him were almost healed. He flexed his fingers as if he sensed I was considering his use of them.

“So that’s a yes? I can help?” I questioned, needing to hear him say the words so I would know they were real.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, a riot of emotion blazing down our bond. “Every protective instinct is screaming at me to say no. But I’m trying to do better, be better for you.” A long pause held my breath captive. “So my answer is yes.”

Excitement flitted through me. Finally, fucking finally. No more suffering in silence. I’d choke those who had been so vocal about Rokath’s decision to allow us places in the army with my presence.

“Thank you, Rokath.” I threw my arms around his broad shoulders, fingertips barely brushing. With a sigh, he pulled me closer and buried his nose into the base of my neck, where my hair tumbled to cover his face.

He inhaled deeply, and his shoulders relaxed the barest amount. “If you are to tread the alleys with Angels all around you, I must ensure that your mastery of your magic is flawless.”

When he released me, his attention turned to Rapp. “We’ll have to send a unit out to initiate a small skirmish to capture some females. The sooner we can start training Assyria, the better.”

Again nausea rose. More Demons would die because of me. Yet if I could mimic the form of an Angel, sneak into their camp, and rescue Banand and Zurronar, thousands upon thousands—if not millions—of lives could be saved.

The choice was an easy one.

“Aye, we’ll discuss it with the Parancsok this evening. By then they should have rallied their scouts to depart at nightfall. Hopefully in the morning we’ll have a better map of their camp. Then it will put your mind at ease with Assyria,” Rapp replied, drumming his fingers on the table. He picked up one of the stones on the map and tossed it back and forth.

I grinned at Rapp, and he offered me a subtle dip of his chin. Even though he was Rokath’s best friend, he’d always supported me too. “Where do we begin?”

“We’ll start with lessons in Angelic. While I hope that you won’t be caught, if you are, you need to speak the language so you aren’t discovered in your disguise,” Rokath explained. It made sense, after all. They wouldn’t speak the common tongue to someone who looked like them.

“What should we call her magic? It needs a proper name,” Rapp butted in. “Especially for a power so useful and so cool.”

A little giggle escaped me, and Rokath rolled his eyes. “Now is not the time.”

“Psh,” Rapp replied, slapping his leg. “It’s as good of a time as any. Besides, we could use a little fun.”

“I’m inclined to agree with Rapp.” I flashed Rokath a saccharine smile. “What about Facer?”

Rapp shook his head. “No, that’s too bland. You need something more exciting.”

Rokath grumbled something about how ridiculous we were before stealing a hunk of cheese from me. I scoffed and swiped at him, but he popped it into his mouth before I could retrieve it.

“Forger?” Rapp suggested, lifting a brow and breaking our staredown.

“No, it sounds too much like the monetary laws.” I tapped my chin, poised to snap a hand toward my plate should Rokath attempt to steal more of my food. “Changer? Since I’m changing my body?”

“Imposter,” Rokath huffed, finally adding his opinion to the mix. “I gave you the name during our very first interaction. That is what it shall be.”

“I like it. It’s badass. Just like you will be once you master it, Assyria,” Rapp grinned, flashing his sharp teeth. Then, he leaned forward and snatched a handful of blackberries for himself from my plate.

“Hey!” I protested, smacking his arm. “There’s food over there if you two are hungry.”

“But it’s so much more fun to steal it from you when you’re acting like a starved dog,” Rapp grinned, popping one into his mouth.

I rolled my eyes.

Rokath dragged a blank sheet of parchment toward him, brows pinched with focus. “Now if we can return to the matter at hand. Assyria only has a short time to learn a complex language.”

Rapp shoved back from the table. “Aye, I’ll let you teach in peace. If you feel like killing each other, just go for a quick fuck instead.”

I snorted, and Rokath growled at Rapp’s backside as he jammed his hands in his pockets and strolled from the tent. His innocent whistles drifted toward us for a moment longer before silence reigned again.

I quickly snatched back my stolen fruit and shoved a few into my mouth. Then, I turned to Rokath, our gazes colliding like a lightning strike. “I’m ready. Teach me.” The words were breathier than I meant them to be, but when he looked at me like that…

His heated burgundy eyes swept over me, sending a shiver of desire down my spine. With the backs of his knuckles, he brushed my cheek and tucked a lock of hair behind my pointed ear. “If at any time it feels like it’s too much, tell me. We will find another way.”

“I will,” I promised. “But I want to help. I want to prove that I am useful to those males.” I dipped my head toward the outside world.

“Then that is what we shall do.”

Rokath traced the letters of the Angelic alphabet onto the paper, covering the sound of each. While he didn’t expect me to have to read it, he wanted me to know them just in case signs were present in the camp that might assist in guiding me to the prisoners. We spent the remainder of the afternoon covering basic phrases.

When the sun finally dipped, we broke for dinner. Rokath, Rapp, and I ate together in one of the massive food tents. As we entered, I held my head high, showing the males there was nothing wrong with me being unveiled and among them. The stares were even worse now that they knew my name and who I was to Rokath. Before, I’d been “the fallen” and rarely appeared alone to fetch food, both from Rokath’s protectiveness and my own desire to keep out of their path.

The H carved into my wrists itched under their scrutiny.

I had to embrace my role. I refused to falter under their judgment. Because I was worthy of a place here, I was worthy of the sacrifice Rokath had made for me, and I was going to ensure the Demons won this war in whatever way I could.

Because if I died doing this, at least it would be on my own fucking terms.

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