Текст книги "Horns of Wicked Ebony"

Автор книги: Lacey Lehotzky

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Текущая страница: 31 (всего у книги 43 страниц)

45

The Skala Mountains loomed nearer with every breath. When we’d passed through Lutsk, it wasn’t merely deserted. The earth had been churned by the boots of hundreds of thousands of feet. The city had been scrubbed from the map entirely, like the Angels had erased what was left of the crumbling walls during their retreat.

Behind Assyria and me, what remained of our survivors from Fured marched, growing more grim the higher the peaks speared into the sky. The battle we’d faced weeks prior was nothing compared to what was to come.

“Someone is approaching,” Assyria muttered, eyes narrowing on a speck of movement in the distance.

“Search,” I commanded the hounds, and they leaped into action. Like black blurs, they streaked across the earth, hunting whomever Assyria had spotted in the distance. We were closing in on the northernmost ridges of the range, where one of the largest outposts along the wall that divided the continent waited.

The very same one where I’d fucked up on my first mission as Vezető. Where I’d gotten most of our unit slaughtered. And for which my father and the Kral had punished us by forcing me to kill Thast. After speaking my truth to Assyria, the memory of him didn’t dig a knife between my ribs quite as violently as before. But the guilt, the same, still lingered.

“It wasn’t your fault, mate,” Assyria murmured into my mind, her voice a balm to the burning. I hadn’t realized I was projecting my thoughts down our bond. With a sigh, I unclenched my jaw and uncurled my fingers from around my stallion’s reins.

“It was, but I appreciate your reassurance.” Before she could argue further, Grem and Zeec let out a wild series of barks. We dug our heels into our horses’ sides, and they galloped forward. After cresting a rocky hill, we halted, surveying the scene below.

Two males were on their knees with my loyal beasts circling them. Their dark hair and red eyes loosened my chest immediately.

“Heel,” I commanded the dogs. They retreated to their place between our mounts.

“Halálhívó, Szélhámos,” Banand and Zurronar greeted us, rising to their feet. Once there, they offered us both a closed-fisted salute. Banand cleared his throat, then flattened his hands behind his lower back. “Hadvezér Trol is in the pass just ahead. With so many soldiers, it was impossible to bunk in Kohszak. He sent us to guide your way.”

I studied them intently, not saying anything. I waited for the flicker of magic, the hint that an Angel was creating an illusion. After all, the two of them had been in their custody for months. But when Zurronar shot Assyria a wink, I let my suspicions drop.

They were replaced by the desire to rip out his eye.

I shoved the urge into the dirt and finally acknowledged what Banand had said. “Take us there, and give me a report while we go.”

“Aye, Halálhívó,” he affirmed.

I glanced over my shoulder to see how far behind the rest were. Kiira and Rapp were nearly upon us, the first of the wagons not far behind. I was so fucking glad Rapp had been able to ride this entire time. The additional pium he’d been taking every day had done wonders.

“We’re going into the pass,” Assyria shouted for me. When she faced forward again, she dipped her chin.

We’d been working better and better as a team too since she started training to impersonate me. With our bond, we were able to anticipate each other’s movements. That had translated into orders too.

And I found myself savoring the support. To my utter surprise, not having to do everything on my own, having her to lean on, had done wonders for my overall attitude.

“Lead the way,” I told Banand and Zurronar, and they pivoted back toward the mountains. Grem and Zeec wandered off, checking the area, while the two former prisoners of war took their place between Assyria and me.

“Did you receive the raven in time for the attack?” Zurronar questioned, a hint of hope in his tone. I knew him well enough to know he cared deeply for the army. It was one of the reasons he’d been promoted time and time again.

As I regarded him from above, the night that irrevocably changed the course of my life—and this war—rose to the front of my mind. How I’d killed his brother for protecting my mate. Not that I had known. And still, he hadn’t been furious. He hadn’t cursed my name. Instead, he’d remained at the front, continued to fight for the Demon cause, when he had every right to leave.

He possessed an honor that I did not.

Assyria replied for me. “The day after actually. We were mid-torture of a Myrza when a messenger came. The Halálhívó was quite annoyed at the interruption.”

Zurronar snorted a laugh, but Banand’s brows pinched.

“How many did you lose?” Banand ventured like a dagger was pressed to his throat and the wrong number would send it plunging into his skin.

“Too many, but not enough to make a serious dent. We still have plenty of power,” I reassured him. The guilt he carried for his plague was etched into the lines of his face.

“Especially with the addition of the females,” Assyria added, knocking her leg into his shoulder. He glanced up at her and offered a tense smile.

“How has that been going?” Zurronar asked her next. “I see you now have a helmet of your own to match the Halálhívó’s.”

She beamed, and the pride in her expression made my heart ache. Seeing her this happy, so in her element…it was everything.

“After the initiation ritual, the males started to integrate them of their own accord. Now they work closely together, like equals,” she gushed. “I hope that they’ll keep it up once we reunite with everyone. We really do have some powerful magic among the female soldiers. They’ll be great assets to many units.”

“We will ensure they are welcomed,” Zurronar promised, but the way he shifted in his saddle gave me pause. I studied him further as Banand echoed his sentiment.

The path grew steeper as we entered the foothills of the Skala Mountains, and ahead, a canyon waited for us. This route was one I’d ridden countless times over my centuries of life. Once we rounded the first bend, a small pool would line the right hand side, the perfect place to refill a waterskin if needed. After that, a tough incline challenged all riders, but the winding path beyond it was an easy enough ride to the barracks and outpost at Kohszak.

“What else?” I prodded them as we approached the water. There, two horses were tethered, and the males fetched their beasts and mounted them.

“We’ve done our best to support Hadvezér Trol as he spread us out along the northern part of the wall,” Banand said, his gelding falling into step alongside my stallion. Assyria rode ahead alongside Zurronar. “We still have custody of two of the Angel females, and we managed to capture a few more who attempted to sneak into the camp.”

“What of your magic?” I asked him.

He dropped his gaze, studying the leather reins in his hands. The path pitched upward suddenly, and he leaned into his horse’s neck, helping him clear it. We did the same, their breaths labored by the time we reached the crest.

“Banand is…struggling with it.” Zurronar turned in his saddle, his eyes first locking with mine and then drifting to his comrade. A muscle feathered in Banand’s jaw.

“My guess is that it’s more a mental block and less a physical one. The shame he felt after his rescue was apparent,” Assyria slipped down our bond.

“Aye, that was my assumption as well.”

“We’ll discuss it later,” I decided, wanting to change the subject. Speaking of it now would only further Banand’s anguish, and I needed him to pull it together to aid us in winning the war. “What happened to the third female?”

“She stole a dagger from one of the guards and killed herself,” Zurronar stated, his tone colder than the wind clawing through the canyon. An ember of something that looked a lot like rage smoldered in his maroon eyes.

Assyria sucked in a sharp breath. “Which one?”

“The one with the ocean eyes. She was always the nasty one.” He lifted a shoulder and dropped it like her death meant nothing. And to him, why should it? The torture the Angels had inflicted on the two of them had been brutal. Horrific. Gut wrenching.

In truth, her suicide didn’t affect our plans at all. She was the least powerful and therefore the least useful one. Not like the Angels thought any of them still lived.

A perusal glance over my shoulder revealed the rest of our traveling group ascending. Rapp and Kiira’s horses were close, their heads dipped and quiet words passing between them. Beyond them, the last of the supply wagons appeared over the ridge. More males and females streamed behind them on foot. Parancsok Olet, along with all the Százados who brought up the rear, would ensure every soldier successfully arrived at the outpost.

“Hadvezér Trol can explain the rest when we reach him. The edge of the camp is just ahead,” Banand said, pointing to a bend in the distance.

“Aye,” I grumbled. We hadn’t been gone long, and yet everything had changed in that time. Females—powerful in their own right—walked among seasoned warriors. Assyria had emerged as a force unto her own. Kiira had joined the army too, seemingly indefinitely, though she wouldn’t participate in any real fighting.

And Xannirin?

Fates only knew what he was doing. I hadn’t heard from him since he departed the military academy. A raven never appeared among the desert rocks, bearing an acknowledgement of my request.

At least the reinforcements should reinvigorate those who might still see the loss of the fifty thousand as an utter failure on my part—I hoped.

We needed to integrate them quickly with new units so they could spread stories of Assyria and me. Kiira had been right—once all of the academy was hooked on the mythos of us, belief had shifted quickly.

I hoped it would sway the rest of the realm too.

I glanced at my brave mate. The Fates had certainly deemed all the blood I spilled for them worthy if they’d given me such an incredible female to have by my side. There was plenty more to offer their thirsty soil. I’d gladly drench it so long as they kept her safe.

Too many times now, I’d almost lost her. First to the cobra in the Paks Desert. Second to the Angel’s kidnapping. Third to an assassin. Fourth during the Battle of Fured.

The number wasn’t nearly as high as the number of times I’d almost died myself. Yet each one was far, far too many for my liking.

I’d spent centuries preparing for war. For death. For glory. But nothing—fucking nothing—had prepared me for loving her. Nothing had prepared me for how fucking willing I was to burn the world down if it meant keeping her alive.

The first sounds of the camp reached my ears as we rounded the high cliffs dotted with towering pines and cloud trees. A few large cacti clung to the sides, absorbing whatever moisture dripped down from the few clouds that managed to cross the peaks of the Skala Mountains. Here, at least, the highest points were far lower than they were closer to Uzhhorod.

On the other side of the range, Eloi, the largest city in the northern part of the Angel Realm, loomed. From there, the Angels were poised to invade into the Demon Realm. For centuries, they’d launched their extermination attacks between here and the ocean from that base. That they’d returned yet again to that position made my jaw ache.

We’d commanded the city once. But with their numbers swelling, could we do it again?

The war camp unfurled before us, yet it was different than it had been on the open plains. Instead of a cluster of organized chaos, tents hugged the sides of the cliff face. Warriors ducked out of them, their expressions hard. Many faces were wan, and more than a few far too thin for my liking. Furs wrapped around shoulders to ward off the chill.

More scattered on either side as the canyon widened, bearing a sour note of displeasure. Fingers jerked in the direction of the females trailing behind us. Whispers echoed off the narrow walls. I noted them all.

Assyria, deep in conversation with Zurronar, paid them no heed.

Yet Grem and Zeec’s hackles raised as they trotted along the thin thoroughfare.

The valley bloomed ahead of us, and even more soldiers appeared. These, however, greeted us with more enthusiasm, salutes and my honorific slicing through their otherwise busy day.

Like the spokes of a wheel, paths carved toward the barracks. Zurronar led us through the maze, single file as there wasn’t enough room to ride abreast. My stallion’s ears flicked in all directions as sounds bounced off the mountains. I stole a glance up toward the road that led to the wall, memories of that fateful day surfacing, just like every time I returned here.

Assyria subtly slowed her horse so the distance between us lessened. My attention cut to my mate. Her helmet gleamed, and the sun highlighted the little flecks of purple in her eyes. Ebony hair spilled down her back with a slight wave from sleeping in a braid. The black leather she wore made her look all the more formidable atop her mount.

“Our absence hasn’t changed them, right?” A hint of worry slipped into her tone.

“I don’t know, little imposter. We will have to see. And if they rebel again…well they would do well to remember the consequences from before.”

She nodded and faced forward, thumb raking over the small garnet in her ring. We neared the only permanent building at last, and officers spilled out of its cool interior.

From the shadows, Trol appeared. His face was even more weathered than when we’d met in Ustlyak and he’d been covered in month’s worth of dirt and sand. His lips twisted into a smile as we slowed to a stop in front of him, but the sentiment didn’t reach the corners of his eyes. “Halálhívó, I am grateful for your quick return to the front.”

I dismounted, handing Assyria my reins, and approached my second Hadvezér. Boots hit the ground behind me, and then Rapp joined us.

Trol let out a low chuckle. “Good to see you alive and well, Rapp. You’re looking even better than before your injury.”

Rapp grabbed Trol’s arm and pulled him in for an embrace, clapping him on the back at the same time. “I’m glad to be feeling better too. Fured was certainly healing for me.”

Trol looked beyond us to the line of wagons and new soldiers. “How many?”

“About ten thousand. The valley looks like it’s full to the brim already,” I commented, glancing around. Makeshift structures claimed every available inch of space. Some soldiers had to turn sideways to navigate the narrow slots between them.

“Aye, it is. We’ll have to figure out where to put everyone, though I think once you hear the latest update it will solve our problem,” Trol added, running a hand over his close-cropped hair.

“Let’s talk, then.” Our weeks by the sea had been a nice break, but now, it was time to focus again.

From the chaos, Assyria and Kiira appeared. The High Priestess strode with her shoulders square, not deigning to offer any of the males her attention.

Assyria too carried an air of importance as she came to a halt beside me. “Where do you want us?”

“You’ll come with me,” I told her. “Kiira, can you try to find a temporary place to settle everyone else?”

Trol swept into a low bow. After all, she was cousin to the Kral and the highest of nobility in addition to her position as spiritual leader for the realm. “High Priestess. It is an honor to have you among us. The operations managers in the first battalion should be able to help you for now.”

“Thank you, Hadvezér Trol. The Fates shine their favor on you for your continued sacrifice and work in their names,” Kiira replied, her tone warm and inviting. She was magic in her own right. “I’ll bring a few of the females from the Deathveiled with me. It would be good for them to start speaking of their time at the academy.”

“Aye,” I told her.

Trol snapped his fingers at one of the Százados hanging in the periphery. “Take the High Priestess to the operations manager.”

“Certainly. If you’ll follow me, High Priestess,” he said. With a small wave, she bid us goodbye, calling out Maariya, Izzenna, and Vokkia to join her.

“The Deathveiled?” Trol clarified when they were out of earshot.

“We have updates of our own,” I told him. “With so much time apart, I’m sure we’ll need hours to discuss everything that’s occurred.”

“I don’t doubt it. The command room is ready and waiting for you,” Trol commented, spinning on his heel. Two Vezető jerked open the doors to the barracks, allowing us entrance.

Yet this was no homecoming—it was something far more dangerous. It was the ascension of dangerous new legends, lethal new leaders, and a warning for all who dared defy us.

The Demons were rising, and with it, the Angels would fall. But in the shadows of the mountains, our victory would not come without a sacrifice.

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46

In the command center, surrounded by haunting memories and critical stakes, we regrouped for war. The permanence of this place gripped me as I surveyed the familiar furniture. A heavy oaken table. Carved pine chairs. Decorative weapons pinned to the stone walls. A hearth with split logs stacked to the side.

The crackle of it assaulted my ears as Olet strode into the room, finally caught up from the rear, and greeted the Parancsok who had remained with Trol.

Assyria sipped from a metal mug and nibbled on a bit of goat cheese produced in the city that supported the outpost. A platter of fresh food awaited us should we want more. It was far better than the long-storing gruel we had to eat during our rapid trek here.

Trol went to a cabinet and pulled out a small box. Twined to it was a letter, the crosspoint bearing a burgundy wax seal. I accepted it from his outstretched hand, noting Xannirin’s signet stamped into it.

“This came for you just yesterday, Halálhívó. A rider from the outpost closest to Uzhhorod passed it along personally.”

My brows climbed my forehead. Xannirin had acted quickly. His silence had spoken volumes—or so I’d thought. Perhaps he wasn’t as resistant to the changes, or the nobles had accepted them readily upon his return. Whatever the reason, I was grateful for his communication.

Assyria craned her neck to see what I held.

I tugged at the thin rope, breaking the seal. “Did he have any reports from riding the length of the wall?”

“That is one of the matters I wanted to discuss,” Trol stated. The other officers shifted in their seats around the large table. Judging by the looks exchanged between them, they already knew.

Rapp’s boots clicked against the stone as he came to stand beside me. He was well aware of my current feelings toward my cousin, our Kral.

Rokath,

Additional soldiers to help defend the realm have been sent to the outpost near Uzhhorod. Both male and female. A chunk of my personal guard accompanied them since they are untrained. I ordered them to begin instruction as soon as possible to ensure their lives aren’t entirely wasted the moment the Angels attack.

Additionally, I have declared all fallen free from their forced servitude. Many volunteered to join the defense. You’ll find them among the rest once you reach the wall. To further my commitment, rape is now an offense punishable by death via dismemberment.

Kiira’s stories and the portrait of Assyria and you are quite compelling. I have already begun to distribute them with the aid of the priestesses.

I issue you one warning: should you try to move against me and claim my throne with your mate, you’ll have a war of a different variety on your hands.

The box and note inside are for Kiira.

The Kral

I clenched my teeth, wanting to punch my cousin in his fucking face for daring to suggest I wanted to rule in his stead. Again. His arrogance was grating my nerves.

Rapp reached for the box, turning it over and examining it from every angle. “What do you think he’d possibly send Kiira?” he murmured, loud enough that only Assyria and I could hear.

“No clue. Open it and find out,” I suggested on the off chance Xannirin had dared to play some trick.

With a shrug, he flicked off the latch and opened the lid. A moment later, he dropped it onto the table like it was a snake that had bitten him. He slammed the top shut before anyone could glimpse its contents.

I smacked his hands away and dragged it closer to me. Slower than he had, I eased it open.

A musky old tang assaulted my nostrils. Assyria’s metal mug clattered against the table. The fire popped, the volume like an explosion in the utter silence.

Because staring back at me was blackened blood clinging to a shriveled dick and balls.

Shock gripped me, freezing every muscle in my body. Because there was no doubt who these had belonged to if this box was intended for Kiira.

Ollmund Varrir.

So Xannirin had killed him for what he did to our cousin.

“I was certainly not expecting that,” I remarked, closing the lid and handing it to Rapp.

“Nor I,” he growled, securing the latch. “I’ll warn Kiira before I give it to her.”

“Aye,” I agreed, attention drifting to my mate, who slid her plate away. Nose scrunched, she slumped back, arms crossed over her stomach. The horror of her posture said she’d seen enough.

Clearing my throat, I redirected the conversation back to battle plans. Rapp took his seat beside Trol, tucking the box away for later. “So, what did the rider have to say?”

Trol flattened his palms on the table and stared at the map carved into the middle. “Every outpost is still manned, currently.”

“But?”

“But their numbers are dwindling with frequent raids from the Angels.”

“All of them?” I clarified.

Trol nodded. “They all need reinforcements, and I sent the first wave out with the rider upon his departure. But I suspect they’ll need more.”

He paused for a moment, jerking on the collar of his jacket. The officers around the table held their breath. My shoulders tightened as I waited for what else he had to say.

“Speak freely,” I insisted, but the grating in my tone contrasted the encouragement I wanted to deliver.

Trol swallowed, unable to meet my gaze. “I have no idea where the Angels have gone.”

“What do you mean? How the fuck do you lose an army?” My voice didn’t rise, but the chill in them silenced even the burning logs at my back. My fingers dug into the wood, turning my tattooed knuckles white.

Trol didn’t answer right away. Assyria reached for me, peeling my hand off the table. I forced myself to release a breath through clenched teeth.

“Only a handful remain at their base over the wall. Once they reached the foothills, they took to the skies for their retreat. With the high sun, we couldn’t see where they went.”

Fuck.

The Myrza had proclaimed that one of their Seers had delivered a prophecy of a battle within the mountains. Clearly, they weren’t simply regrouping to force us closer and seek out weak points in our defenses. They were spreading out to find the location of this final stand.

Technically, the wall was a neutral zone. Each side had outposts or small cities along its length, but set back into our respective territories. Since our rise to power, I’d ensured that the Demons had gained control of most of it, allowing our riders to pass freely without fear of running into a group of Angels attempting to patrol its tops.

My mind worked over this new information, weighing each outcome and possibility. I doubted they’d attempt to go south of Sivy and Uzhhorod, preferring to brave the peaks between the capitals in an attempt to bring about a swift end. The Skala Mountains rose to a crescendo at the end of Keleti, making travel through their peaks nearly impossible.

No, the foretold battle would occur in the north.

“If we don’t have eyes on them, we need to do that, and quickly. I doubt they’ve left us without surveillance,” I ground out around clenched teeth. “Which means they’ll know of our arrival.”

I paused, reaching for Assyria’s hand. Despite the twisting in my gut, I knew what I was about to say was the right thing to do. “We’ll spread along the length of the wall. My mate will assist us in fighting through this rough terrain.”

Assyria lifted her chin and offered them all a devious smile. “I’ve learned quite a few tricks since our last meeting.”

“Is that so?” Trol asked, a wry grin tugging at his war-hardened lips.

In seconds, she wore my face like a prophetic mask. Many of the officers started at the sudden duplicity of me. Rapp pressed his fist to his mouth to hide his amusement.

“But that’s not all.” From my shaved head, white hair fell, and my burgundy eyes turned aquamarine. Tattoos melted away, revealing the regal face of the Myrza. “I’ll lure the zealots into my trap and we’ll kill them all, save for one. They will return to their camp, spouting off nonsense about one of their own betraying them,” she said in Demonic.

The unnerved expressions at seeing this Angel’s face speaking our language, was understandable.

“What…are you?” one of the officers breathed, studying Assyria with rapt fascination.

“An Imposter. The Szélhámos.” She returned to herself. “The female who is going to bring the Angel army to its knees.”

A grin—vicious, feral, possessive—rose to my lips as I watched my mate. My equal. My Fate.

“We’ll need to capture a few more Angel officers as well so we can perpetuate this story. Make them tear themselves apart from the inside,” I furthered, detailing the hard-wrought design Rapp, Assyria, and I had discussed during our travels.

“It’s a good plan,” one of the Parancsok commented. “My units will be thrilled to join any missions you require of us.”

“I’m glad you said that,” I began. “Because with us, we have several thousand powerful magic wielders who just so happen to be female. They held their own against the Angels in the Battle of Fured, and I want to ensure the units here embrace them. Who will take them on, and who needs to be reminded that my word is law?”

Several commented that their males would accommodate, while others noted they still struggled with sections of their battalions. I made a mental note to visit them with Assyria as soon as possible.

After that, we ventured into logistics. How many units we’d send to each outpost both to the north and south of our current location. What weapons needed to go where. The number of healers, cooks, and clothiers to disperse. I moved markers across the map until I was satisfied with the placement of them all.

“Everyone remembers the fire signals, yes?” It had been nearly a decade since we’d had so many soldiers at the wall. At intervals along the way, massive basins waited to be lit. The communication was far faster than sending ravens, especially during times of strife.

“Red for imminent attack. Gold for requesting aid. Blue for sickness. Green for storms. White for diplomatic approach. Smoke for lost position,” a different Parancsok listed off.

“And if we lose a guard tower or section, we must press forward on either side and retake it as quickly as possible,” I reminded them.

They nodded their acknowledgement.

“Good. We’ll spend the rest of the day integrating the new magic-wielding units into your battalions. Gauge their responses, and when we meet in the morning, we’ll decide who to send where.” My focus locked on the map of Keleti carved into the table and the stones dotting the length of the wall that divided the realms. “Remember we have the power. We have the positions. And we have us.” I indicated my mate and me as I snapped my gaze to each of the officers in turn. “With our combined powers, we are unstoppable. Relay that to those who dissent.”

Then, I straightened to my full height. Assyria too rose, uniting our front. “Dismissed.”

Chairs scraped. Boots thudded. Murmurs drifted as the Parancsok coordinated their next tasks.

My two Hadvezér lingered. “What’s in the box?” Trol asked when he was certain we wouldn’t be overheard.

“The dick and balls of a coward,” Rapp snarled. My gaze snapped to my Hadvezér. We hadn’t discussed it with one another, but he knew. To see his reaction now, as violent as my own—perhaps even more so—was interesting.

Trol didn’t even flinch. “Tell me how the integration actually went so we know what to prepare for here.”

Assyria huffed a laugh and collapsed into her chair. “What we really need to prepare for is the males trying to seduce their new female compatriots. I swear, if I have to deal with another fight over one…”

Rapp chuckled, his dark mood dissipating. “We’ll have a tough time with that here. Most of these males haven’t been with a female for a year or longer.”

“We need to ensure everyone remembers why sexual activities are discouraged in the war camp,” I groused, pinching the bridge of my nose. “And that if it is non-consensual, the punishment is death, per a new decree from the Kral.”

Assyria bolted upright, her earnest gaze trained on me. Tears welled in those gorgeous almond-shaped eyes. I brushed the backs of my knuckles across her cheek, capturing one as it fell. “The Kral has also seen to it that all fallen are released from their compulsory duty.”

“Really?” she breathed.

“Written in his hand,” I murmured, stroking her soft skin.

“So…he’s listening?” she questioned, almost like she couldn’t believe it. Fuck, I wasn’t sure if I did either.

“If there are fallen among those stationed at the outpost closest to Uzhhorod, then yes.”

A watery smile bloomed on her face, and something between a sob and a laugh choked out of her. “I did it.”

“You did, little imposter.” Wrapping my arms around her tiny frame, I pulled her in tight. A mosaic of emotion flooded our bond. I welcomed it, letting her pour everything into me.

A light tap sounded on the outer door, and Kiira appeared in the entry. “Is everything okay?” she asked, studying how I embraced Assyria.

My mate pulled away from me and beamed at my cousin. “More than alright. You should sit down.”

Brows pinched, she rounded the table and dropped into a seat near Rapp. Trol cleared his throat and excused himself to attend to helping the Parancsok sort through the new arrivals.

He shut the door behind him, giving us privacy.

Rapp brought the box out from his lap and slid it to Kiira. “Fair warning, the contents are…gruesome.”

She eyed it warily, attention bouncing between the three of us. “What is it?”