Текст книги "Horns of Wicked Ebony"

Автор книги: Lacey Lehotzky

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 35 (всего у книги 43 страниц)

Through them all, one word remained. Repeated like it was the only word a raven could caw.

Sacrifice.

OceanofPDF.com

52

The next outpost coiled into the mountainside like a snake ready to strike. Wooden buildings hugged the slope, with the premier seemingly carved from the stone itself. High turrets jutted into the air, providing a view to the wall.

My heart twisted at the sight because it meant one thing: Kiira and Rapp would leave us. The High Priestess and I rode beside each other, a few paces behind Rokath and his Hadvezér. Grem and Zeec barked and bounded forward, icy flakes clinging to their long fur as they buried themselves in the snow. More sprayed as they leaped and bounded through it, snapping at the air.

Kiira and I shared a laugh at their antics. At least someone was happy to be here.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” I told her, sorrow sliding between my ribs.

Kiira swayed in her saddle for a moment before responding. “Me too. But we’ll be reunited soon.” Somehow, she didn’t sound convinced.

Worry twisted my gut. “Your vision says so.”

She nodded, eyes still trained ahead as if she were searching for something. “Nothing has changed. I haven’t seen anything else since then, so it is still set in stone. Of course, if I have a new one, I’ll let you know immediately.”

Rokath and Rapp steered their horses downhill, and we followed, leaning back and letting our horses pick their footing. The hounds were nowhere to be found, but a trail in the thick power told me which way they’d gone.

“I still can’t believe so many mates were waiting for each other,” I commented once we straightened out again.

“Truly a blessing from the Fates. Much like your bond. The populace craves more of the two of you, according to Xannirin’s latest raven. I’ll have to write about your latest exploits before we go.”

Heat scorched my cheeks. As much as I’d become the face of this revolution to the army, something about millions of others knowing so much about my life felt foreign, like a splinter wedged beneath my skin.

“The whole army seems to believe in it now too.” My attention drifted behind me. The Deathveiled rode closest to us, and Zurronar shot me a wink. Banand was in the prisoner’s wagon some distance back. The two were basically inseparable, which was understandable given everything they’d endured together.

It mirrored what Kiira and I had forged in Fured, which made the coming goodbye ache like a broken bone.

The clouds parted overhead, making the snow on the trees glitter. More powder slid off the roof of the buildings as a group of males emerged. Rapp and Rokath were nearly to the center of the outpost already. The soldiers fell to one knee and rested their foreheads on their arms in veneration.

“Halálhívó, we’ve prepared space for you and the rest of those joining us. The second accommodation downhill is also in working order,” the leader explained. I noted his rank as Vezető, though he wore red armor instead of the typical leather—one of Xannirin’s guards.

So it was true, the Kral had sent the aid he promised.

“At ease, soldiers,” Rokath rumbled. He and Rapp slid from their horses, and the guards rose.

Kiira and I came to a stop behind them. With easy grace, we dismounted. Another male approached, taking our reins and leading our horses away.

“If you’d like, I can give you a tour. We’ve spent a few weeks renovating it, since it wasn’t in the best shape when we arrived,” the Vezető explained.

“Lead the way,” Rokath instructed with a sweep of his hand.

As we stepped inside, I glanced over my shoulder, finding the wagons and soldiers spilling into the valley. Harnessed horses dragged massive tree limbs through the snow, clearing space for supplies and tents. The Parancsok leaped into action, directing the movement like puppeteers.

“How long has it been since you were here, Halálhívó?” the male asked as we stamped our boots on a mat in the center of what appeared to be a weapons storeroom.

“Decades,” he replied.

Much like where we’d stayed near Kohszak, the majority of the building was rows of bunks stacked three high and communal washrooms. The changes, he noted, were that each floor was now designated by sex rather than by unit. The first level was for the females, and the bathing chamber had been cleaned so thoroughly it gleamed as sunlight spilled over the stone. “We built additional chamber pots here for privacy.”

Kiira and I shared a look. Whether it was this Vezető’s idea or Xannirin’s, it mattered not. The females were being shown they mattered.

“That was very thoughtful. We thank you,” Kiira praised, her tone all warm honey. The male blushed and averted his gaze. I resisted the urge to snort. She had that effect on people.

“If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to your accommodations.”

Up three flights of stairs, we found ourselves on a floor with several rooms hugging each wall. They all had doors that closed and locked. At the end was a meeting space, complete with map, albeit a worn and disused one, and a small planning table.

“The dining hall has been moved to the first floor, adjacent to the weapons storage, where there’s more room to host everyone,” he finished.

“Ensure lunch is served soon,” Rokath instructed, tugging on the tips of his gloves as he surveyed the space.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, scurrying away and leaving the four of us alone.

“So this is home now?” I asked, striding toward the windows. The view was striking, with the valley spreading out below. The second building, I noted, was some distance away. Groups were already striding in and out of it, unloading the wagons. Banand and Zurronar were helping the group of captive Angels from one of them.

My eyes narrowed on the former as he held the hands of the turquoise-eyed female, Araquiel, as she leaped to the ground. Their gazes met for the briefest of moments before Araquiel ripped them apart. Banand’s expression was pained before he smoothed it away. He’d already admitted to having some affection toward her, but this looked different…

Grem and Zeec burst from between some wagons, tongues lolling and tails wagging. They circled the Angels, teeth flashing as they yipped. Some of the prisoners paid them no mind. Others shrank back.

Our bond tightened as Rokath approached. My body hummed from his presence, and I took a step closer to him. His attention drifted down to the Demons working below us. “We need more Angels for you to impersonate.”

Along the way, we’d picked up a handful of Bassi—the Angel equivalent of a Vezető. But it wasn’t enough to sway a swath, not like it had been when I’d used the form of the Myrza. According to the new captives, word of his betrayal had spread like a plague. Furious officers spent hours planning his demise before he could wreak further damage on morale and belief. The irony nearly made me laugh.

“We need to speak with Banand too,” I insisted, clocking the way his hand hovered near Araquiel’s lower back as he escorted her inside.

“Why?” Rokath murmured, bracing his forearm on the window and following my attention to the pair.

I hated that I understood the leverage of love. Of affection. Hated that I was considering using it. But if it meant that my friends would survive—the Demon race would survive—I’d use it. War was a game. The weak played it safe and clean. What I had to say could fall off the edge of the blade in one of two ways—glory or treason. I hoped it wouldn’t be the latter. “His affections for Araquiel seem to have deepened these past months. I wonder if we can turn her to our advantage.”

A growl vibrated deep in Rokath’s chest. “Now you’re really starting to think like a leader.”

I preened under that praise. “He and Zurronar have been helpful since they joined the raids with us too.”

“Aye, they have,” Rokath agreed. “After our meal and offering, we’ll grab them and bring them here.”

“What for?” Rapp asked, joining us in surveying the scene. Kiira was nowhere to be found.

Rokath gestured to where the two were corralling the Angels inside the barracks. “See if they can convince our prisoners to assist us.”

A wide grin split Rapp’s face. “That’s brilliant, Rokath.”

“It was all Assyria,” he told his Hadvezér. Pride etched his expression as his regard settled over me.

Rapp raised a brow, the studs above them catching in the midday light. “I’m impressed.” Then, he backhanded Rokath in the stomach. “I told you she was smart and would be useful to us all along.”

Rokath grumbled something under his breath, eliciting a bark of laughter from Rapp.

“Are you ever going to promote them?” I questioned, gesturing to Banand and Zurronar. Both had powerful magic, and after all, we were missing several Parancsok after the massive loss when Rokath chose me over his soldiers.

“I don’t see why not. Now is as good of a time as any,” Rapp shrugged, leaning his shoulder against the polished glass.

“Technically, we replaced them when we thought they were both dead. So they were officers before. Though Zurronar was only a Vezető,” Rokath pointed out.

“We have plenty of empty slots to fill,” Rapp countered. “Just because they aren’t now doesn’t mean they can’t be placed where they should be. From Trol’s accounts, both stepped up the moment they were well enough to do so after their rescue.”

My mate was silent for a long moment. His brows pinched ever so slightly, his mind working over all the possibilities and probabilities. “We’ll offer them a chance to earn new titles after we speak with them. See if they want the challenge.”

I rolled my eyes. Rokath very much believed in proving value, and if either could turn the Angels to our side, they certainly would have earned their title of Parancsok.

“I need a nap before lunch. Too many early mornings after too many late nights.” Rapp yawned, the motion nearly unhinging his jaw.

A weariness tugged at me too. “I can’t object to that. Besides, if we’re going to go out again tonight,” I looked at my mate, nodded in confirmation, “then I definitely need some sleep to replenish my magic.”

“Let’s go then. They’ll fetch us when it’s time to eat,” Rokath said. When he pivoted to exit the room he commented, “I see Kiira is already a step ahead of us.”

Rapp chuckled as we reentered the small officer’s floor. “Aye. She knows we’ll have a long ride ahead of us the day after tomorrow.”

Rokath halted, his boots squeaking against the newly-cleaned floor. My breath caught in my chest.

“She’s going with you?” His tone was far more measured than I thought him capable with the riot of emotions burning up our bond.

Rapp realized the error of his words a moment later. Kiira hadn’t wanted him to say anything to Rokath until the moment they were about to leave. True to my word, I hadn’t revealed a whisper of their budding relationship to my mate. Though Kiira hadn’t exactly been forthcoming either, so I couldn’t comment on anything more than their shared affections.

“What, you don’t think I’m capable of protecting her?” Rapp said, a hint of challenge in his tone that contrasted his neutral posture.

“After what happened to her?” Rokath ground out. “The only one who can protect her is me.” His nails dug into his palms.

Rapp scoffed. “And yet, you weren’t the one who ripped Ollmund Varrir’s balls off.”

Rokath took a menacing step toward his Hadvezér. “Neither were you.”

Rapp’s eyes flashed, and his lips curled back from his teeth.

I darted between the two, placing my hand on my mate. “We’re all tired. Let’s talk about this later?” I tightened my grip to get his attention, and he tore it to me.

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. Glaring up at him, I shoved him in the direction of the largest room, leaving Rapp standing in the middle of the hall. I hoped he’d go to a different room than the one Kiira had snuck into. Their being alone in the same room would only further my mate’s discontent.

I shut the door behind us and locked it as an added deterrent. Rokath’s jaw ticked, and his movements jerked as he stripped out of his armor. The moment his chest was bare, I shoved my finger into it. “You are an asshole. Kiira does not need to be coddled just because some spineless noble took from her what she did not want to give. You never treated me any differently because of it, so don’t do that to her.”

Rokath caught my wrist and tugged me into his embrace. With his other hand, he threaded his fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck. Pinned in place, he forced me to look deep into his eyes. “I will protect the people I love. No matter the cost.”

“That includes Rapp,” I pointed out.

He looked away, nostrils flaring.

“He will protect her too. They spend all their time together. He wrote to her more frequently than you did while we were marching to Lutsk. I think you can trust him not to let anything happen to her.” The last words slipped out as little more than a whisper as I sensed him starting to calm.

“I know,” he said, blowing out a long breath. “I just feel so guilty. I’ve spent so much time away, fighting. I had no idea so much was crumbling between Xannirin, Kiira, and me. Yet I was the only one who could safeguard us. Still am, really.”

He walked us to the bed. The mattress sank beneath his bulk. I climbed into his lap, straddling his hips, and walked my fingers to his temples. A small groan escaped him as I massaged the tight muscles there.

“You have me to support you now. You’re not fighting alone.”

“Out of the three of us, only my magic serves a purpose on the battlefield,” he murmured. “So it was always my responsibility to fight.”

“You’ve given so much. To everyone. Whether they see it or not.” I moved lower, finding the tension in his jaw.

“What matters is that you see me, mate.” Our eyes locked, and all barriers between us fell, leaving only one raw emotion burning between us—love.

“I do. I see you, Rokath.” Cupping his face, I pressed my lips to his. “Now hold me while we sleep. Because I also know that is what helps you rest more than anything else.”

He offered me a rare smile. “My insomnia is no match for you, little imposter. Much like everything else, you fight it with fire and leave ashes in your wake.”

“Don’t forget that,” I teased as I wriggled off him and stripped out of my clothes. When we were both bare, he flung back the rough blankets. We curled together beneath them. I didn’t merely want to sleep beside him. I wanted to sear the shape of his body into my memory. Sink to darkness together, where we both belonged.

Where we both could drop our masks and just be.

OceanofPDF.com

53

Assyria’s half-finished throne stared at me as I sank onto the floor of the weapons storage. Rapp settled across from me, meeting my gaze for the briefest of moments before turning his focus to the pile of feathers and bone. Assyria perched on a workbench, her long hair unbound, sleep still clinging to her eyes. Yet dark glee brightened them as I twisted the legs about, deciding what needed additions next.

“This one is too short. Better to save it for the back,” Rapp commented, examining an arm bone from one of our more recent attacks.

“Aye,” I agreed, plucking it from him and placing it among a different pile. The adhesive was nearly ready—a mix of sap, boiled hooves, and raw sugar that became clear when dried, leaving the bones perfectly white and ready to intimidate any Angels who foolishly requested a meeting with me.

Let them kneel before the chair built from their fallen and know it was primal devotion that laid the first bone. I couldn’t wait for the first time the Zahal crawled out of his hive, begging for a reprieve from our next assault. The fury that would twist his face as he beheld my mate and me lounging atop the remnants of his soldiers. Another Myrza skull would certainly polish off Assyria’s throne, though it wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying as the one from the female Ishim had loved adorning one side of mine.

“What’s that smell?” Zurronar asked, his nose wrinkling as he entered the space. Even with the doors flung wide, the sour scent of the adhesive was pungent. Banand offered us salutes, and Zurronar hastily mimicked him.

“At ease,” I told them, dipping the flat stick into the mix and giving it one last stir. Rapp held the first section upright, twine keeping the bones exactly how I wanted them.

“I have a challenge for you. Take a seat.”

Assyria scooted over to give them room along the far wall. Zurronar shot her a wink, and she made a face at him in return. Gritting my teeth against the overprotective beast, I dug the stick into the canister and slathered the first scoop across the bottom. The thick goop dripped onto the threadbare cloth beneath our knees, immediately beginning to harden. Rapp lifted the section ever so slightly off the ground to ensure it didn’t permanently stick.

“You can begin,” I told Assyria down our mental connection.

“How has your relationship with Araquiel developed over the past few months since you’ve been back in the Demon camp?” Assyria asked Banand, straight to the point. I kept an eye on his reaction.

Something flashed across his face, though he managed to smooth it away quickly. “She is our captive, and understandably, she’s unhappy about the situation.”

“Would more freedom make her happy?” I questioned. Another thick layer of adhesive went over the middle, and carefully, I removed the twine there.

“I think it would,” he ventured, his words slow and measured. “I’m assuming there’s a price for it?”

I paused my work and looked straight at him. “You’ve been on our last few raids. What do you think the price is?”

His fingers drummed against his biceps. “You want her to help us.”

Zurronar shifted his weight, crossing one leg over the other. His attention flickered to Banand before he pointedly studied my work.

“She might run off with them if we bring her on a mission like that straight from being shackled,” I replied. “As you said, she is unhappy being a prisoner of war. Which is where you come in.”

Rapp tested the bottom and middle sections of the bones to ensure they were dry enough that removing the top bits of twine wouldn’t send the whole thing falling apart. With a tug, he freed them. I scooped more adhesive and painted it across.

Silence reigned until I stuck the stick back in the container.

“What can I do?” Banand ventured, his tone tipping into eagerness.

Assyria twisted her ring around her finger as she regarded him. “You know her best. What would make her switch allegiance?”

Zurronar let out a sigh, running his hands over his long hair and straightening the leather strap holding it atop his head. “Tell them, Banand.”

The adhesive dripped straight onto the cloth as my hand paused midair. Rapp whipped his head over his shoulder, staring at the pair too.

Banand’s face was nearly as red as his eyes as he glared at Zurronar. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t start this again,” Zurronar shot back. His body tensed, like he was preparing to fight his friend.

The two remained in a faceoff, the room at a complete standstill, until three caws rent the air, and three black crows sailed by the open doors.

Assyria sucked in a sharp breath.

“Whatever you are about to say, it is important,” she whispered. Then she tore her attention to me. “Kiira said the caws and crows are the Fates at work. They might be the crossroads where her visions could change.”

Fuck.

But it all made perfect sense. All the times I’d heard crows since Assyria came into my life roared back—when she was bitten by the snake, when I rode out to meet the Angels to trade for her life, when Blaeze returned to us, during my conversation with Kiira and Xannirin, before the blessing of the mates…

“Tell them,” Zurronar urged again. “Or better yet, show them.”

“Show us what?” I growled, my tone leaving no room for argument. I surged to my feet, the throne forgotten. Rapp, thankfully, kept it upright, though his knuckles were as white as the structure he gripped.

Banand glanced among us all, muscle ticking in his jaw. Fingers clenched and unclenched. “There was a time,” he whispered, but his voice was like a whistling blade through the pregnant silence. “Where I prayed for anything else. For a way out of what the Fates had given me. When we were imprisoned, I’d begged the Weaver for a new path. This wasn’t what I meant.”

A haunted expression claimed Zurronar’s face before he shook it off.

Then, with lips curled back from his teeth, Banand whipped around and yanked his tunic overhead.

Assyria gasped, her hands slapping over her mouth. Bones clattered like a judgmental echo of the dead.

Because between his shoulder blades was a perfect black circle.

Exactly the same as the one between Assyria’s. Between mine.

“Araquiel is your mate?” I questioned because I had to be absolutely fucking sure.

He shrugged his tunic on and fell into the wall like offering the truth hadn’t gutted him. He seared Zurronar with another hateful look. “She is.” The tension in his voice was even more evident than the tension in his posture.

“Fuck, Kiira needs to hear this,” Rapp croaked. He leaped to his feet and jogged to the stairs. I couldn’t agree more, even if I was still pissed she was leaving with him. And that he was the one fetching her.

Never had I heard of such a pairing in all our histories.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” I snarled, heat licking up my spine. “Are you still loyal to the Demons, Banand?”

“For this reason,” he snapped back, anger yanking him to his feet. All formal pretense vanished. “Of course I’m fucking loyal to the Demons. I suffered for months, protecting our people. You wouldn’t have trusted me if I’d told you when you rescued us. Besides, I’ve fought it since the moment it happened.”

I whirled on Zurronar. “You kept this hidden too. Who else knew?”

“Just me. None of the others who were with us the day it happened survived, I swear,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “It was months after the plague began. She was new to the unit that was charged with guarding us. She ensured no one ever saw the mark on him either when they stripped him. It would have been just as dangerous for Araquiel to be discovered too.”

I took a threatening step forward, but Assyria pinned me with a glare. “He has a point. But,” she paused, turning her wrath on the two, “I saw Araquiel without clothes when I was trying to become her. She bore no mark.”

Banand hung his head, unable to meet her gaze. “Did you put shackles on her yourself?”

“No,” I ground out, heat gripping my neck and shoulders. “Why?”

“She’s an incredibly powerful Sensor. If you didn’t put them on yourselves, she probably used her magic to trick whomever thought they did. Then kept influencing everyone to ensure they still thought she had them on,” Banand explained, his shoulders slumping inward

I didn’t think. Just lunged like a venomous snake. I gripped him by the throat and shoved him backward. Metal clattered from the collision. “All this time, you left us exposed? Left the camp at risk?”

“I put some on the moment I realized she wasn’t actually wearing anything!” he protested, his complexion deepening into a midnight purple. “That is reason enough to give me the benefit of the doubt, is it not?”

Shadows slammed into the crook of my arm, forcing me to release him. I ripped my attention to my mate, whose magic licked up my torso and clamped like a collar. Tight. Possessive. Deadly.

“So whose side is she on then?” Her interrogation was sharper than the blades scattered around us.

“I don’t know. Not exactly the Angels. Not exactly ours. Obviously, the Angels want to exterminate us, which would mean me included. There are no exceptions in their plans,” he coughed, clutching the workbench for support.

I forced myself to put space between me and the two near-traitors so I didn’t fucking kill them.

Rapp and Kiira burst into the weapons storage, my cousin’s eyes wide and lips parted. “Is it true? You have an Angel mate? And three crows flew by?” Her brows creased as she studied the scene before her. Assyria surrendered her bind around me.

“Yes,” Banand hissed, jerking his shirt up high enough to flash the High Priestess his mate mark.

She approached, tracing it with her finger. “Fates…” she whispered, her eyes growing distant. I studied her for any sign that a vision might be overtaking her. I wouldn’t let her collapse and injure herself against the hard floor. Rapp seemed to have the same thought, because he eased closer. “There hasn’t been an Angel-Demon pairing in at least two thousand years. Their offspring was the first Seer…”

Rapp swore under his breath.

“I thought there had never been one?” I bit out.

She shook her head. “Our grandfather never allowed the writings to be made public, but I still retain copies in my library at Varbad Temple. The insight in them was important to my magic.”

“So that’s what kicked off the Age of Prophecy?” I clarified. It was a subject I hadn’t paid much attention to, preferring to study texts of war and battle since it was more important for my role in society.

She nodded, twisting her unbound locks around her finger and securing them at the base of her neck. “That Age is still ongoing, alongside the Age of War. One of those books foretells the end of both, though the words are vague enough that I’ve never been able to make sense of them, save for that there is an end.”

“Do they happen together?” Assyria prodded, leaning forward.

“No.” Kiira stepped away from Banand at last. “Where is your mate?”

“With the other prisoners at the moment,” he grumbled, his tone more bitter than many of the potions brewed by the healers.

“Which is where she will stay until you can convincingly promise us that she will not betray us to the Angels,” I growled, crossing my arms. “Can she listen to us right now?”

“No,” Banand snapped. “We both keep our mental barriers firmly in place. Not to mention I think in Demonic and she thinks in Angelic. Neither of us exactly want this. We both have a lot to hide from one another.”

He met each of our gazes in turn, his eye contact strong and steady as if he were imploring us to see his truth.

“Unfortunately, the Halálhívó is right. But this was what we were going to challenge you with to earn your place as a Parancsok. Both of you,” Rapp sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“We can do it,” Zurronar promised after a moment’s consideration. “We’ve treated them far better than they treated us, at least. Our actions alone should tell them we’re not the animals they think we are.”

“Tell no one of your bond,” I warned Banand.

“Trust me, I won’t.” His jaw was set hard, and his focus drifted to the floor. Assyria’s shoulders softened, along with her expression. And fuck if I didn’t feel bad for him too, just a little bit. I’d gone insane those first months with Assyria, fighting myself over the primal need to protect her, to possess her, to claim her.

Banand had suffered tremendously. First, being forced to create a plague to wipe out his brethren. Then, a mating bond with his sworn enemy snapping into place.

“Will you make an oath to the Reaper?” I challenged him.

“Anything,” he swore, finally lifting his gaze. The desperation in his eyes hit me like a blow. He wanted to be believed, to be trusted. The guilt he had initially carried made much more sense now. And why he was struggling to use his magic.

I drew a dagger from my hip and returned to the piles of bones I’d prepared for Assyria’s throne. Banand did the same and stood across from me. Without hesitating, I cut deep into my palm and let the garnet droplets splatter over the white.

“You will obey mine and the Szélhámos’s command, and all those we appoint to speak in our name,” I began.

Banand sliced deeper, spilling more of his blood over the Angel remnants. To his credit, he didn’t even flinch or give them a second thought. “I swear upon my life, the life of my mate, that I will not speak of my bond outside of this circle of knowledge. I take full responsibility for her actions, and should either of us betray the Demon cause, let the Reaper’s eye fall over us.”

I held out my hand, and he clasped it. I squeezed harder and sent more ruby splattering from both of us. What better way to seal this oath than into my mate’s throne?

“May the Reaper curse you should you break this oath.”

He knelt, resting his forehead on his bent arm. “Halálhívó, my sword has always been and will always be yours. The Szélhámos’s too. For I proclaimed her as such, she will always have my devotion.”

I jerked my head, and Assyria hopped down from her position atop a workbench and joined me. He lifted his gaze and planted it firmly on my mate. “Allow me to remain part of your guard, Szélhámos, and I swear I will give my life for yours should the time come.”

“Convince Araquiel to join us, and you shall keep your spot,” she told him. The command in her voice, the confidence in her posture, the curl of her lips made my dick harden.

“Aye, Szélhámos. You have my word.” With that, he rose. “If you’ll give me leave, I’d like to speak with her now.”

I looked past him and leveled a heavy gaze on Zurronar. “Your fate is tied to theirs. Take the High Priestess with you. If you want the title of Parancsok, your next actions will make or break our decision on the matter.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, shoving to his feet and giving us a salute.

“Dismissed,” I grumbled, since we were back to formalities now. Kiira dipped her chin to me, affirming she knew what to do. She’d be the best to observe this, given how in tune she was with the Fates.

The three of them swept into the chilly afternoon sun, leaving Assyria, Rapp, and me alone. I pinched the bridge of my nose and let out a long breath. “Fuck I was not expecting that.”

“Nor I,” Rapp grumbled, easing to the ground beside the half-finished group of bones we’d been working on. I joined him a moment later, cursing again when I realized the adhesive had hardened completely.

“I can warm it again,” Assyria offered, reaching for the bucket. I handed it to her, noting the tension around her mouth and eyes. Clearly this news had unnerved us all.

“We’ll figure it out, little imposter. There is nothing to fear,” I reassured her as she walked away.