Текст книги "Horns of Wicked Ebony"

Автор книги: Lacey Lehotzky

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Текущая страница: 34 (всего у книги 43 страниц)

50

“The scouts have spotted Angels here, here, and here,” Trol said, moving pieces of stone around the map on the table.

“Which means they’re likely going to try to breach our holds in these outposts,” I reasoned, tapping three spots between our current location and Uzhhorod. If they’d speared so far south already, they were moving quickly. Which meant we needed to as well. “And they were all clustered in those groups? Nothing more?”

“No,” Rapp replied, tongue working over the rings in his lips as he studied the board with us. We’d sent everyone else away so we could focus on how to divide the battalions and ensure the survival of the Demon race. “I flew out with one of the scouts early this morning to see the closest group for myself. They seem like they’re priming for a three pronged attack.”

I opened my mouth to admonish him for pushing himself but he shot me a glare. “I am fine. My chest held up fine. Honestly I feel almost back to normal now. All the pium worked its magic.”

“Good.” A bit of tension bled from my chest. Because the last thing I wanted was to throw Rapp into a battle on his own, unable to swing a sword, pull a bow, or fly through the air. His knowledge and skill in aerial battle was paramount now that we were among the jagged peaks.

The words I needed to say still sat heavy on my tongue. “We need to split up again.”

Rapp and Trol picked their gazes up from the table. “Unfortunately, you’re right,” Rapp sighed, sinking into a chair. “I don’t see any other way around it. Which means they’re planning something.”

“Since they were able to wipe out a large section when we split last time, Zahal Ishim must think he can have success with the maneuver again,” I grumbled. He was a fucking horsefly that needed to be squashed before it could attempt to bite again.

“Aye,” Trol affirmed. He dragged the marker that indicated his position to the closest one. “I’ll take a smaller section here. With my magic, it will be easier to herd the Angels in a way that makes them easier to kill. You’ll need larger forces closer to Uzhhorod.”

He wasn’t wrong. “We’ll set some traps along the way. Help pick off the more powerful groups to aid you.”

“Thank you,” he replied, his focus still on the map. “With the females and other magic wielders from Fured spread evenly, that should help quell any protests about who goes where.”

“I’ll take the ones still harboring resentments with me. If they don’t get on board with the plan, they can become my puppets on the battlefield,” I groused, pinching the bridge of my nose. At least after our display, the males had quietened. The females, despite the dropping temperatures, strutted around with their sleeves rolled up, their devious eye tattoos on full display. On my way in, I’d even seen one of the Vezető sporting one.

Rapp snorted, shaking his head. “The peaks are highest and most dangerous near Uzhhorod. I’ll take that section. If you don’t mind, I’ll also need more of the fliers.”

“Take as many as you need,” I told him. The three spots we were guessing the Angels would go to were spread at odd intervals along the wall, and unfortunately, Trol would be the farthest away again. But with the positions Rapp and I would hold, we’d be so fucking close to Sivy. Should we beat the Angels back, we’d be primed to take the city. Kiira’s vision would come to pass. This would finally end, and I could enjoy the rest of my life with Assyria.

“What if they backtrack and try to take out Trol’s position since he’ll be the furthest from aid?” I threw out, wanting to check my logic.

“They could, but then they’d descend straight into the Paks Desert, and that path would not serve them to reach Uzhhorod,” my Hadvezér commented. He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “Unless they took the wall and marched south along it, to pin your groups.”

“So we need to watch out for that to happen,” I mused. “How many mated pairs do we have now?”

A wry grin spread across Trol’s face. “You’ll never believe what I’m about to say.”

I raised a brow, glancing at Rapp. He sat up straighter, focus trained on the other Hadvezér.

“By all means, speak,” I prodded. Whatever information he possessed, it was clearly important.

“We got about a dozen new pairs in the last few days.” His words robbed me of air.

“You’re joking,” Rapp shot back. We shared a look like we couldn’t decide if he was pulling a mean prank for us leaving him alone so often.

Trol shook his head, still sporting a smug expression. “I am grateful that I’m not. Ask the High Priestess. She’ll tell you exactly what she told me—that it is a sign from the Fates that they want to ensure our victory.”

I sat there, stunned to silence. All this time, these priestesses were serving beneath Kiira, and all these males beneath me. We’d always struggled to communicate over such large distances. And now that we’d brought the sexes together, one of our largest issues had been solved. Sure, the male pairs had been useful, but there were far fewer bonds granted by the Fates than male and female pairings.

Is this how the Angels were able to coordinate so easily?

I cursed myself for not thinking of this solution sooner. And Xannirin for suggesting we subjugate females in the first place. I knew why we’d shaped society the way we had—and this only confirmed to me that we were in fact walking the right path.

The ability to speak finally returned to me. “How many others know of this?”

Trol lifted a shoulder. “Those who were around perhaps. It’s not quite the level of gossip like you and the Szélhámos were, from my understanding of what the new recruits have told me.”

“We need to make it a bigger deal,” I pronounced, my mind working on how to play into this to motivate the army. “As part of the new orders, they’ll come to the stage so Kiira can bless them. We’ll leave out the part of having to split them up and tell them that after.”

My heart clenched at the thought of parting from Assyria, especially over the distance it would require. And so soon after their bonds snapped into place. But it was a necessary step. “They can have private rooms to themselves until we leave since it will be a…painful goodbye.”

Almost involuntarily, I rubbed the spot where my magic rested. Rapp offered me a look of sympathy. I glared back.

“Who thought you’d find empathy somewhere inside you?” he teased, thumbing his lip.

“I never found it because I don’t have it,” I groused. Trol barked a laugh. “Not you too.”

“You have changed for the better, Rokath.” Trol dropped into his seat, and with a grumble, I sat too. From the edge of the table, he pulled a pitcher of water brimming with pium leaves and poured us all drinks. Not quite the alcohol we would have shared if we were anywhere else, but the symbolism was there nonetheless.

Raising his mug, he said, “Assyria is your perfect match. It’s been an honor seeing the changes in her from our first meeting to now. You are truly blessed by the Giver.”

I clinked the rim of the metal cup against his. “I am indeed.”

Rapp added his to the mix. “It took you long enough to get there. But seeing the two of you work together now…it is something to behold.”

My chest ached for an entirely different reason as I took a long drink. With the miracle leaves, it was refreshing, invigorating, and aided in breathing at such high altitudes. Not to mention when ground and mixed into a potion, it aided all Demon’s innate healing abilities. It was why Rapp still lived.

I’d never been more grateful for a plant.

“So it’s settled then. Rapp will take the southernmost position with a group of fliers. I’ll take the middle with the largest force on the ground, including all those who silently oppose the changes. Trol will take the northernmost position with enough halves of mated pairs to ensure messages get to both of us if he needs help.”

I glanced between the two, who both nodded their agreement.

“Then we’d better start adjusting and preparing to leave. With the Angels this close to the wall and Uzhhorod, we can’t spare any more days.”

Snowdrops dotted Assyria’s ebony braid as she finished readying herself for the ceremony. I sat on our bed, drinking in the sight of my mate.

Mate.

The word struck me like a punch to the gut. After everything I’d done, everything I’d been through, the Fates had still seen to weave me my perfect match.

And she was so much more than that. She was my reason for fighting, the reason I slept at night. She was the haven I returned to time and time again when the weight of my duty dragged me down. The way she had blossomed into the Szélhámos brought me to my knees, ready to worship at her fabled feet.

I craved her every touch, every smile, every spark of fire in her eyes. Even her sharp tongue with those defiant words that ignited a savage blaze in my blood.

She was not a weapon. She was the war itself. A force that should be feared and revered in equal measure. And I would be the male at her side to cut down any who thought otherwise.

So when she faced me, cheeks flushed with excitement, wispy strands of ebony framing her high cheekbones, I was rooted in place. Awestruck that she was mine—in this moment, in all the moments to come.

“What?” she asked, her head tilting to the side.

I wanted to speak, but my lips wouldn’t move. She approached, the sway of her hips tugging on the strings of my sanity. Somehow, I managed to capture her waist and bring her body flush against mine.

“I don’t tell you nearly enough how blessed I am to have you,” I rasped, running my nose along her neck and inhaling her scent. Roses and berries filled my nostrils—a smell I’d willingly drown in, so long as I died knowing it was my mate.

She let out a soft sigh, draping her arms over my shoulders. “You could have broken me. Instead, you helped me bloom.”

My throat thickened. “I was awful to you. At first.”

She pulled back and cupped my face. “And you have more than atoned for that.”

Grasping the back of her head, I pulled her into me. Our mouths met with the passion of a wildfire. Our tongues with the ferocity of a battle. Our wills with a heady mix of love and hate.

Breathless, I broke our kiss. Assyria’s lips were redder than her eyes, swollen from how I’d claimed them. “We’d better go or we’ll be late.”

She offered me an unguarded smile dripping with adoration. “I can’t believe so many mate bonds snapped into place.”

“Nor I, little imposter.” Rising, I adjusted myself. A small laugh escaped Assyria. Threading my fingers through hers, we exited our room. Grem and Zeec trotted on either side of us, tails wagging.

Hushed voices reached us the moment we stepped into the valley. The army—both sexes mingling—had already gathered, their leathers gleaming and collars flipped up. Among them, many of the people of Kohszak stood. Their sturdy wool cloaks hugged their bodies as the wind swept between the peaks. Assyria’s teeth chattered as a shiver wracked her frame.

“We’ll be warmer among the crowd,” I told her.

“You lead the way. I can’t see over everyone,” she replied, stepping behind me. Together, we worked through the throng toward a nearby hillside where Kiira, Rapp, and Trol already waited, along with the newly-mated pairs.

Excited whispers reached my ears as we passed group after group of soldiers. The myth of Assyria and I’s bond had spread faster than a mountain blizzard. At least here, with those under my command, we were succeeding in driving much-needed change.

Discordant caws sliced the air as we ascended the hill. Our gazes jerked to the cloudy sky, where three black dots stood in stark contrast to the grey. Assyria sucked in a sharp breath. Kiira too lifted her head, mouth parting and silent words passing her lips.

We joined the High Priestess in surveying the gathered as the birds drifted out of sight. A mosaic of red reflected back from the sea of faces. My attention sliced to the pairs kneeling on a makeshift platform below us. Dug into the hillside, upheld by the magic of a handful of former priestesses, the dozen were visible to all.

Kiira’s black dress billowed as another breeze swept through the valley. She waited until the wind died before lifting her arms wide and high. “Come now and bear witness to the divine weavings of the Fates.”

A hush fell over the army.

“The three have brought us more blessings with the bonds between these brave soldiers,” she began, sweeping toward the mates. “By their holy will, they are shaping our lives, our victory, that we may rise unified in our new order.”

Rounding them, she came to stand beside Assyria and me. My mate straightened her spine. “If it weren’t for the path they wove for the Halálhívó and the Szélhámos, these pairs would have never met. Their threads would not have become one. Their lives would have been like drinking from an empty glass.”

She approached the crowd again, letting her words linger in the air.

“But now, they are full.”

More than a few mates glanced at once another, small smiles tugging at their lips.

“Let us pray,” she whispered, dropping her head to her chest. Like a wave, the gathered knelt.

“Weaver, who entwines soul to soul with threads unseen, bless these bonds you have spun. Let their steps fall in perfect harmony. Let the colors of their tapestry blend. May the path before them be unbroken, even in war.”

Muttered affirmations to the Weaver abounded. I grasped Assyria’s hand again. “Blessed by the Weaver.”

Kiira intoned again. “Giver, grant them magic not just to wield in battle, but to sustain each other in weariness. Let their power rise in tandem, their union a force that sings your name in every breath and blow. By their combined might, may they bring majesty to your name.”

The soldiers and townspeople prostrated themselves. So too did the mated pairs.

“Reaper, let your eye pass over them, for they walk the path you have permitted. Should they falter, let them rise together. And if death comes, let it come to both, for what you have bound shall not be easily undone.”

Assyria’s fingers tightened in mine. Kiira looked to the cloudy sky like she could peer through their heavy gray and beg the Fates to let them all live. With how close the two were, there was no doubt my mate had confessed to my cousin her fears about my survival. Our survival. Simply because we loved one another.

Releasing a shuddering breath, I rose to my full height. Our bond hummed with bliss, rather than contention. Like a beast with a mind of its own, it had fought us both, forced us together, and we’d faced our reckoning because of it.

Now, it needed to do no such thing.

Kiira lifted each couple one by one, offering them further blessings. The rest of us watched on.

“Bound by the Weaver, sanctified by the Giver, protected by the Reaper, go now as two who are one, and let the world tremble at what love has wrought.”

Kiira’s final words sent a chill straight to my core. Assyria looked up at me, those dark lashes fanning against her cheeks.

“Always mine, little imposter.”

“Always yours.”

As the army dispersed, I knew, deep down, that our love would send tremors through the Angels in the coming days. For our departure was imminent. I only hoped that empowering Assyria, aiding her in impersonating high ranking officers, wouldn’t result in her death.

Because if she perished, I’d follow. Leave the whole army to burn to ashes. There was no point in saving the Demons if I couldn’t have my mate with me after.

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51

Wisps of white magic flitted through the alpine trees ahead as we crept toward the Angel scouting party. The group prepared their encampment for the night, erecting tents, lighting fires, and cooking meat. Swirls of black shrouded us, hiding any movement that might garner attention.

A twig snapped. My closed fist flew into the air. The soldiers behind me halted. I didn’t dare breathe as I listened for the next telltale step. From between two trunks, a figure emerged, not even a stone’s throw away from me. Blue eyes scanned the dark forest.

All that kept us hidden from him was a wall of our magic.

“Everything okay?” Assyria appeared in my mind.

“Movement ahead. Hold your position,” I shot back, my entire focus on the approaching male.

The muscles in my legs burned from holding this crouched stance. Yet we couldn’t move without alerting him to our presence.

A bush rustled. The Angel swept off to my left, searching for the source of the sound. My fingers flexed, preparing to grab the hilt of my blade and free it from my back.

But from the clearing, a female called out for him.

With one last look into the abyss, he returned to the safety—temporary as it may be—of his unit.

Air fled my lungs. I glanced over my shoulder, noting the position of my half of the Deathveiled.

Assyria had taken the others in a long loop around the outside so we could ambush them from multiple directions.

“On my mark,” I said down the bond.

A flicker of unease swept from Assyria before our connection muted. My heart lashed against my ribs before I reminded myself it was merely from her magic and not because an Angel had taken her.

This was the first time she’d impersonate the Myrza we’d slaughtered in Fured. This was the test that our plan might work. Executing it flawlessly was essential. One fuck up, and we’d have to scrap everything and start over.

It was for that reason we’d only spoken Angelic the past week.

A loud rustling drew the attention of the unit. Their heads whipped in Assyria’s direction. Breath lodged in my throat. Like a white wraith, the Myrza—Assyria—appeared in the night. The flickering of the fire cast her in a haunting relief. Blood and grime caked the white armor, making her appear as if she’d been traveling for weeks.

“Report,” she barked with authority in Angelic. A startled few shot up from their seats, greeting her with the traditional words praising the fucking Goddess.

“We thought you were dead,” one of the males spluttered. “The Zahal said the Halálhívó arrived in the mountains weeks ago with new reinforcements.”

“The Zahal was mistaken. A few of us escaped once we realized we were going to be overpowered in Fured. We managed to survive long enough to return to our home and out of those cursed lands,” she replied coolly. Her accent was slightly off from his, but I doubted anyone would notice. Her words were also carefully chosen and practiced, because we needed at least one survivor to run back to the larger group and spread the word that one of their own was betraying them.

“Then where are they?” a female pressed, scanning the area.

“They’re safe.” She stepped closer to the fire, holding her hands over it as if she were trying to warm them. Winter in the mountains was bitter, and snow draped over rocks and tree branches like lattices of lace.

“Safe where?” the same female asked. The disbelief and suspicion in her cerulean eyes was evident, even from this distance.

“Let’s go,” I ordered under my breath. Dropping my magic, I rose to my full height and unsheathed my sword. Despite my best effort, the scrape of the edge against the scabbard still shredded the night. Down the line, the remainder of the Deathveiled did the same.

“In the Demon army,” Assyria replied, drawing a weapon of her own and swinging it through the flames. The tip nicked the female’s throat, and blood sprayed from the wound. She slapped a hand over it like that would save her.

Screams ripped the still air as we charged forward, our heavy steps ringing a death knell. Assyria grabbed a male with lapis eyes and held a knife to his neck while we slaughtered the rest. He struggled against her hold, managing to wrench himself free.

She cursed in Demonic and lunged for him. Shadow shot out of my palms and wrapped around him, dragging him to his knees. Assyria regained control of him again.

I approached, rivulets of crimson Angel blood dripping with each strike of my foot against the earth. “Where are the rest of you?” I growled at the male in Angelic.

His mouth sealed tight. Defiance blazed in his eyes even as they locked on my soaked sword. I turned my attention—very intentionally—to Assyria. “Well played, Myrza. You’ll have a place in the new order once we slaughter Stadiel and Iaoth.”

The male’s eyes went wide. “Traitor!” he screamed in Angelic, thrashing against my binds. “How dare you betray the Goddess for these animals?”

I released him, and Assyria shoved him to the ground. The male clutched the cut beneath his jaw. We needed him alive after all. “Because I know we will lose to them after seeing their power in Fured. Better to survive than to live for a Goddess who is not protecting us,” she explained. A flit of horror crossed her face as she mixed up the words for live and die.

A chill colder than the ice dug into the boulders swept down my spine. In the heat of the moment, Demonic curses could be overlooked. But with his entire focus trained on her, that one wrong word could upend our plans.

Anxiety flooded our bond. Assyria’s thumb pressed into her forefinger, searching for a ring that wasn’t there.

I kept my gaze firmly on the male, gauging his reaction. My hand twitched, ready to slaughter him if he caught Assyria’s mistake.

The male at our feet didn’t seem to notice—thank the Reaper. His face twisted into abhorrence as he started up at the visage of his former officer.

“Run and tell the others to meet here if they wish to survive the rest of this war,” I growled in the common tongue, tearing his ire to me. He shrank away as I leaned ever so slightly forward. The raw, helpless fear in his eyes was delicious and everything I’d been missing these past months.

Assyria kicked him in the ribs with the side of her boot. “Now!”

He wasted no further time scrambling to his feet and bolting through the trees. The soldiers behind us let out sinister laughs as we watched him race away until his white hair was no longer visible in the dark.

“What do we do now?” Uzadaan, a ruby-eyed male who had known Assyria from the beginning of her journey, asked. After his performance with her in the initiation ceremony and learning his magic allowed him to freeze blood and thereby render a person unable to move, I permitted him to join her guard. He very much understood the consequences of harm befalling my mate.

He’d protected her well during the Battle of Fured too.

“Leave the bodies. They’ll likely return knowing that we didn’t burn them. But first, we leave a message.” I found an Angel with a flayed-open stomach and dug my fingers in. They squelched as I pulled them free, coated in his blood.

I went to one of the rocks and cleared it of snow and ice. The Angels wanted a Goddess? I’d give them one in Assyria.

I painted my message in steaming garnet.

JOIN OR DIE

“Loot the camp and let’s get going. It’s fucking cold and we have a long march back to the wall.”

The firelight flickered over the dark art, one line dripping into another as I smeared it in all three languages to ensure I was entirely clear.

When I finished, I found the Deathveiled rummaging through bags. A few knocked over tents and caused general mayhem with wicked grins on their faces. Assyria drifted to my side, still wearing her stolen skin. Her brows were pinched, and her hand hovered over her stomach like she was going to be sick.

Unfortunately, she’d have to maintain her magic until we were safely beyond the wall again. A scout spotting the transition would ruin our plans, and now they knew the Myrza was about, they’d be everywhere searching for him and the supposed survivors.

“You did well,” I praised her, resisting the urge to reach for her. Any affection on my end would indicate something amiss too.

“I fucked up,” she stated. “Twice.”

“He didn’t notice,” I tried to reassure her, but she shook her head.

“I have to do better.” A muscle feathered in her jaw. “There is no other option.”

“You will. I’ll make sure of it.” That seemed to ease some of her lingering frustration.

“What will you do if a group of Angels returns here, actually wanting to join us?” she asked, changing the subject.

I snorted. “They won’t. One Myrza isn’t enough.” Not that I truly thought any would. They’d rather die than be captured by us. Who would willingly surrender to our control?

The soldiers stuffed their packs, hefting them onto their shoulders. One by one, they trudged into the trees. I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder as we followed, almost expecting another dozen Angels to emerge from the darkness.

Silence, save for the crunch of snow and twigs beneath our boots, reigned as we returned to the wall. An icy breeze rustled the branches overhead, dusting us in a fine white powder. I brushed my shoulders off, not wanting my armor to rust. Assyria shivered, and instinct roared to wrap her in my arms, to offer her what heat I could.

“We’ll be back soon,” I reassured her. After almost losing her in the battle, I’d become even more attuned to her needs. The slightest shift in her down our connection snapped my focus to her. The next time our bond went mute, I’d know the instant it happened.

Because I wasn’t naive enough to think that another occurrence was impossible.

She nodded, eyes trained downward. A male beside me cursed as he tripped on a hidden rock. This was why we’d taken so long to approach. Silence was our shield. Yet our return trip didn’t need to be as surreptitious. Flickering flames atop the wall greeted us half an hour later. A yell went out, signaling our return.

Those at the top threw down ropes for Assyria to climb, while the rest of the Deathveiled called upon their wings to carry them to the top. Unfortunately, my mate hadn’t quite figured out how to use the fake white wings of the Angels to propel herself. I was more concerned with her learning the language since we had other methods of transport.

I followed behind her in solidarity. When we reached the top, Trol, Rapp, and Kiira were waiting.

“How did it go?” Rapp questioned the moment my boots struck the stone.

“We’ll see the reaction once we find the next group,” I told him, heading toward the guardhouse. A fire burned in the hearth, chasing the chill from my skin. I stood beside it, soaking the heat into my bones. Assyria dropped her magic, shaking out her limbs like she was trying to rid herself of the lingering effects of impersonating our enemy. With a groan, she collapsed at my feet like one of the hounds. Skittering echoed down the stairs, and then Grem and Zeec bounded forward, barking a greeting.

“Oh, yes, come here,” Assyria cooed, dragging Zeec to the floor and curling around him like his fur was the key warming her body.

I rolled my eyes. “It wasn’t that cold.”

“Speak for yourself,” she shot back, her voice muffled. Grem lay on her feet so she was nearly smothered by black fur.

Kiira joined her on the ground, and they had their own conversation while I turned my attention to Trol and Rapp.

“We’ll leave at first light–” Assyria made a noise of protest, but I ignored her. “We’ll leave at first light, Trol. Are you sure you’re alright with the numbers you’ll have?”

“Aye. We’ll have enough to manage whatever the Angels deem is necessary to throw at us,” he replied. “A forward scout returned while you were gone. There’s another exploratory group half a day ahead.”

“Good. We’ll give them the same treatment as here,” I announced. “What of the larger force’s position?”

“A day’s ride down into the valley. I think the closer groups are testing for weaknesses,” he ventured, rubbing the back of his neck.

That made sense. “Try to pick them off however you can. And whatever happens, holding the wall is of the utmost importance.”

“Yes, Halálhívó.”

I offered him my arm, and he grasped it. “We’ll try to get a few hours of rest before our departure.”

“Sleep well,” he told us, then disappeared the way Grem and Zeec had come to one of the chambers on a higher level. The soldiers were in the barracks just below the wall, with the ones who would continue on camped outside them.

“Come on,” I said to Assyria, who had straightened and was petting the greedy hounds.

“Ugh,” she protested as she rose to her feet. “I hope they put out the thick fur blankets.”

Our tent had been cold the past few nights, I’d give her that. “All the more reason to be close to one another if they didn’t.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Your dick pressed against my ass?”

“I’d like it to be more than pressed against it.”

“If you two are quite finished, I’d actually like to sleep,” Rapp interrupted us.

I shot him a glare. “Fine. Go,” I groused, sweeping my hand out.

He wasted no time bursting through the far door, Kiira right behind him. The latent heat of the guard tower clung to me, but the stark cold outside slapped it off the moment we stepped outside. Calling on our black, membranous wings, we leaped off the edge of the wall and metered our descent to the camp below. With a thud, we landed in front of our tents.

“Goodnight,” Assyria bid Kiira and Rapp, tugging on my arm and leading me into our space before I could say anything to either of them.

“Eager tonight, are we?” I rumbled, gripping her waist.

“Tired,” she replied, unfastening her fur jacket. I tied the flaps closed behind us, noting the bag of rocks at the foot of the bed. Hovering a hand over them, I found them still warm. Assyria stripped to nothing but her underclothes. She held out her hand. “I need a shirt.”

“You know where to find them,” I told her as I began unbuckling my armor.

“So I can take whichever one I want?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

Grumbling about her under my breath, I fetched her one that hadn’t been washed yet and tossed it her way. She shimmied it over her head, the hem kissing the tops of her knees. Then, she climbed into bed and huddled under the blankets.

The last of my armor secured, I stripped out of my sweaty fighting clothes and rinsed the blood from my hands. By the time I crawled into bed beside her, Assyria’s eyes were closed and her breathing was soft and even. With a sigh, I kissed her forehead, then blew out the candle on the bedside table.

Curling around her, I buried my nose in her hair. Yet as exhausted as I was, I couldn’t sleep. My mind raced over a thousand outcomes.