Текст книги "Horns of Wicked Ebony"

Автор книги: Lacey Lehotzky

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Текущая страница: 40 (всего у книги 43 страниц)

60

Night had consumed the outpost, but war didn’t wait for the rise of dawn. For days, the preparation had not stopped. The Angels’ belief that the next battle would be the last gave them a cockiness we could exploit. Which was why the Parancsok, Assyria, and I were gathered around the map table, planning our next advance.

The door slammed open, drawing all our attention at once. One of the mates from the pairs that had been split up panted there, her hair wild and unkempt. “Hadvezér Trol is under attack,” she burst out, not bothering with salutes and honorifics. The frightened look in her eyes, like her other half might perish at any moment, told me it wasn’t good.

“Shit,” I swore, snatching for my sword.

Before I could even buckle the scabbard over my back, another male raced up, his countenance similar to that of his fellow messenger. “Hadvezér Rapp reports a mass of Angels approaching over the ridgeline,” he blurted in a rush.

The final word hadn’t ceased ringing in my ears before a horn blasted through the night. The length of the call signaled that our enemies had been spotted closing in on our location.

Fucking Fates.

A vise constricted my chest. Ishim had coordinated a three-pronged attack. This was why he thought he’d win. The battle in the mountains wasn’t a singular location.

It was everywhere we were, all at once.

Which meant no aid could come should we fall.

Assyria whipped her head up, eyes clashing with mine. Embers burned in them. There was no way I’d be able to convince her to remain behind. In this room. Out of harm’s way.

The Parancsok leaped to their feet. My mind sharpened like a blade. Years of arduous honing culminated in this moment. I called on the cold, calculating calm that aided me in countless victories.

If I panicked now, my mate would surely die.

“They think this battle will bring them victory over us,” I growled, attention cutting to Olet, then Zurronar and Banand, and finally the other officers. “But it will not. The High Priestess saw us in the streets of Sivy. Let’s beat them back to their homes in the trees. And when we arrive, we’ll burn them alive inside.”

The energy in the room crackled with tension. I turned to the messengers. “Light the fires along the walls. Tell your mates to relay that our position is also under attack. The Hadvezér are to hold their positions at all cost.”

“Yes, sir,” they both said, eyes going vacant as they communicated with their counterparts.

“How can we help, sir?” Zurronar asked, rolling his shoulders back. Dressed in armor already, prepared to fight on a moment’s notice, he was every bit the officer he had previously been.

“Rouse your units. Get to the wall as quickly as possible. It must not fall,” I commanded him and the rest.

“Aye, Halálhívó,” they said in unison. They bolted from the room, their feet pounding a heavy rhythm through the halls and down the stairs.

Assyria remained, grinning up at me like she was winning a game of kazat. “Where do you want me?”

The thought of her on the battlefield stabbed a poisoned blade into my belly. After her near-death, I couldn’t send her out there.

But I had to. It was what she wanted. The world needed to see her fight.

A war waged inside me, ripping me to shreds.

I’d spent months training my mate. Working with her to sharpen her magic into a weapon all its own. The females believed in her. Fuck, the males did too. Scarcely a dissenter remained after her continued success on stealth missions to infiltrate the Angel’s camp.

And she had the Deathveiled to guard her too. None of them—especially not the former priestesses—would let her fall. They’d give their lives for her.

As would I.

“This time, with me. The terrain is too uncertain and we’ll do better together.”

She stepped closer, flattening her palms on my chest. “We’re always better together.”

“Fetch Grem and Zeec and strap them into their harnesses. Then meet me outside,” I instructed her, reaching down and brushing the backs of my knuckles across her cheek.

The heat of her skin seared me as much as the ferocity in her gaze. She truly was a force unto herself.

Assyria leaned into my touch as if she too sensed the gravity of this moment. I wanted to linger in the space of that breath, where she was safe and I was with her. Our bond thrummed with nervous tension, neither of us voicing the fears that laced the backs of our minds.

Three attacks on three fronts. Three chances for the Demons to overpower the Angels and push down through the Skala Mountains to Sivy like Kiira had seen.

Three opportunities for the ice blue eyed Seer’s vision to come true.

I gritted my teeth against the thought.

I was no mere soldier. I was a curse whispered into existence by the Fates. The blade that tread the earth in their name. The Angels feared my coming. And this night, I would remind them who the fuck I was.

The Halálhívó.

The Fates’ chosen with the power to call upon the dead.

Noise rose like a black tide, devouring the silence of the night. The outpost throbbed with the pulse of the awakening battle. With the anticipation of the clash of blades. Of black and white streaking through the sky until only one side remained to wield their power.

I drank my mate in like a dying man reaching for a final sip of water—agonized by the knowledge I may never taste her again.

She was the finest scale. No other liquid could compare. I yanked her close, memorizing the shape of her body and how it pressed against mine. The fire in her devious eyes and how they cradled my heart in their depths.

I cupped the back of Assyria’s head. Tangled my fingers in the silky strands of her hair. Pressed my lips to the curves of hers. Tasted roses on her tongue.

Savored her. Fed my craving. Cherished this last moment of peace.

Ours wasn’t a connection of lust; it was of reckoning.

She broke away first, and my entire being rebelled. I nearly snarled at her to keep going. I needed this. I needed her.

“Go,” she whispered. The word was frayed, like even she knew this was no ordinary skirmish. The Reaper’s eye was drifting straight to us. And that might have been the final kiss granted to us by the Weaver.

I could only fall to my knees and beg the Giver for our magic to hold strong.

A flicker of worry broke through the otherwise steady flame behind her eyes. “I’ll be right behind you.”

An ache bloomed between my ribs. I forced air into lungs that wanted to collapse. The bond shrieked with the primal instinct to protect. “Five minutes. Then I’m coming to find you.”

I backed toward the door, but my gaze never left her. I carved this vision of her into the darkest parts of my mind. Because in the heat of battle, when my muscles burned, when my body begged for a reprieve, I needed to remember why I still swung my sword.

“Because you’ll always be able to find me. Even if I try to run.” Her words, no louder than a whisper, echoed like a final vow. A hidden plea.

“Don’t forget that, mate,” I said, my voice a low, gravelly threat. “You are mine whether you want to be or not anymore.”

“I’d never want to be anything else.”

I tattooed her words on my heart as I turned toward the end of a war.

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61

Iwas alone, and yet noise engulfed me as our soldiers prepared for battle. The ache of Rokath’s absence lingered in my bones, planting itself beside the knowledge that the fight to come would be fraught with danger.

The peaks were far more challenging to navigate than the fields outside Fured. My hands trembled as I braided back my hair. Many, so fucking many, would die this night. The battle at the academy had shattered me. I hadn’t lost anyone since.

Would seeing members of the Deathveiled fall in front of me render me unable to breathe? Unable to continue to swing a sword?

I’d only grown closer to them. And they would die for me.

Tears seared my eyes and throat. I let one fall. Just one. Because I’d chosen this. Chosen to fight for the females to be freed.

And they chose to fight with me.

I secured the end of my hair with a leather strap. With a sniff, I rolled my shoulders back and dried my face.

We could fucking do this. We’d been training for months. Kiira had seen us stalking the streets of Sivy. I refused to believe we’d perish among these mountains.

We would fucking win.

Resolve hardened, I stalked toward our room where Grem and Zeec were snoozing after a hard day of chasing balls. When I opened the door, though, they were already on their feet, tails wagging. Grem yipped and spun in a circle as if the ominous energy fed him rather than filled him with dread.

Zeec followed me to the trunk that held their harnesses. His nose nudged my leg as if he were telling me to hurry up. Grem stuck his head in the moment I cracked it open, snuffing sounds echoing through the space. I shoved them both back, a small, breathy laugh escaping me. Their antics eased some of the tightness in my ribs.

“Stand,” I instructed both of them. They backstepped and stared up at me, tongues panting out of their mouths. One by one, I wrapped the hardened leather around them, securing the buckles and ensuring they were protected. There was no way I’d risk losing either of them again. When we’d found Zeec bleeding on the ground, so close to death, after Rokath sacrificed his battalions for me, I’d been terrified.

Fingers scratched the soft black fur behind their ears. I cooed words of love and praise. Wrapped myself around each of their necks for good measure. Zeec licked up the side of my face. My nose wrinkled, and I swiped his slobber off.

“Save that for after,” I chided as I found the rest of my own armor and weapons. With night fallen, I’d need an extra layer. My jacket waited on the back of a chair, and I shrugged into it, grabbing a few extra daggers and sliding them into hidden slots. Thankfully, my gloves were tucked into another pocket. The supple material was flexible enough for me to wield magic and grasp for blades. Numb hands would not serve me.

I looked up, straight into the mirror. The sight robbed me of air.

Reflected back at me was the Szélhámos—burgundy eyes shining with determination, mouth set in a firm line, hair pulled back and revealing sharp brows. The cascade of ebony down my back was contained in a thick plait. The high neck of my jacket provided extra protection but also gave me an even more commanding air.

No bruises decorated my face. No cuts from harsh slaps marred my tan skin. My innate healing abilities weren’t kicking in to mend sore ribs.

I was no longer the victim of abuse I had been at the hands of Vagach.

No, when I looked at myself in the mirror, all I saw was the leader I had become. The leader I was always meant to be. The female who would weave a new path forward for the Demons. Who was already doing so.

“I am the fucking Szélhámos.” Speaking my own honorific aloud imbued me with strength. “No male’s hands will mark me again. No Fate can define my path. I am my own salvation.”

All semblance of nerves and doubt slipped away as I stepped into the power I’d always possessed and only recently learned to wield.

“I brought the Demon Realm to its knees. Now, I will do the same for the Angels. These fanatics will fear my wrath.”

The rose-covered helmet settled over my brow, sealing my identity. Darkness engulfed my eyes as I inhaled a deep breath and surrendered to the pull of it. The heady presence that had grown stronger in my time with Rokath. The one he’d encouraged me to embrace in all ways. After all, he was so deep into the black that the night feared him and his mighty power. He was the master of death, the blade of the Reaper, and the executioner of the Fates’ will.

As was I.

“Let’s go,” I told the dogs. In three swift strides, I flung the door open. They hugged my heels as we wound our way through the hall and onto the stairs outside.

The air kissed my cheeks, and the nip in it made me immensely grateful I’d grabbed gloves. Excitement slipped from Grem in Zeec in excited barks, yet they didn’t break my command and dare sprint ahead. Beneath us, males and females raced in all directions, strapping into protective metal armor if they were of a higher rank, reinforcing their arms and legs with plates if they were not. Brown leather blended in with the surrounding trees, while black wings blended into the night as group after group soared overhead to the wall that divided the Angel and Demon Realms.

At the rear of the building, I found Rokath shouting orders.

I halted, breath catching in my throat.

There he stood—ferocious in his command, violent in his protection, death wrapped in flesh and bone.

I understood then, the sacrifice he’d made. Why he’d shut out all emotion to become the executioner of night itself. Why he’d resisted our bond at first.

Horns of wicked ebony speared from the skull-shaped helmet, black as the void between stars. Beneath it was the face I’d come to love with an aching, savage ferocity. The face I’d burn the world to protect.

He’d simply gotten there before me.

As if he sensed my presence on the fringes of his awareness, he tilted his head—slow, deliberate, calm—and through the dart slits of his helm, a flash of burgundy met mine. “Come, mate.”

The words hummed in my bones, in the center of my chest where our bond rested. I obeyed, not because he commanded, but because this was where I belonged. Grem and Zeec followed, framing the two of us as I settled at his side.

Before us, the Deathveiled gathered, falling into precise formation. At the front, Zurronar and Uzadaan stood, hands folded behind the smalls of their backs. Just beyond, Izzenna and Vokkia waited, their chins high and shoulders set. The dozen others held similar postures, all ready to whet their blades in Angel blood.

Then, to my utter shock, Banand and Araquiel emerged from the chaos, hand in hand. They circled around the group and knelt at our feet. Dyed burgundy leather hugged the lean muscle Banand sported, while Araquiel had donned a dark brown. Her fog-colored hair whispered over her shoulders as she tilted her head up, first meeting my eyes, then Rokath’s.

“Halálhívó, I wish to join the fight. I know your trust in me is still tenuous, and I wish to prove myself to you this night. All I ask is that anyone I manage to subdue is taken prisoner and given the same generosity you have shown me,” she spoke in the common tongue.

I couldn’t stop my eyebrows from shooting up my forehead. With Rokath’s helmet firmly in place, his expression was unreadable. Yet his mind whirled, too fast for me to keep up with, as he considered all the possibilities.

His attention sliced to Banand. “Should she betray us, her life is forfeit and you will take it,” he growled in Demonic. My gut twisted. No one else here—save for Zurronar—knew of their mating bond. Many would be with us to witness how they interacted. Rokath had backed him into a corner, with accountability and stakes of the highest regard.

If Araquiel betrayed us, the rest would be watching for him to kill her. It was a test for both of them, and one I sincerely hoped they would not face.

The Demon blessed with the ability to create plagues lifted his head, his expression determined. “I swear to you, Halálhívó, she will not leave my side. I will end it swiftly, if I must.” His throat worked, and a war of emotions played out on his face in painful twists.

My tattered heart squeezed with sympathy, but I understood why Rokath had spoken the command. And as a team, I wanted to show we were united on this.

I cleared my throat and spoke to Araquiel in the common tongue. “For too long, females in the Demon Realm were subjugated to the will of the males.” My focus drifted beyond, meeting the eyes of every warrior elevated to battle alongside me. “We had nothing outside of our fathers or husbands who controlled our lives.”

Muscles feathered in the jaws of the former priestesses, many of whom had joined the faithful to escape the path I’d been placed upon with my marriage to Vagach.

“Now, we have a chance to change that for the better. For our entire realm and sex.” Araquiel held my gaze as I returned it to her. “Fuck that up for us with your betrayal, and I will kill you myself.”

Her turquoise eyes remained locked with mine for a long moment, silent understanding passing between us.

“You have my word. For whatever it means to you,” she finally spoke.

“Rise and fight,” Rokath commanded, his voice as sharp as the sword on his back. They did, falling into the rear of the group. No one offered Araquiel a disdainful glare or shifted away from her.

Pride bloomed in my chest. Perhaps we were changing more than the perception of females in the Demon Realm. Minds and hearts were opening like Bordova roses in the summer, and who was to say that they couldn’t blossom into full acceptance?

The hopeful thought dashed away as Rokath gave the order to move out. Onyx strands reached for Grem and Zeec, snaking around their bodies and lifting them off the ground.

Stepping away from Rokath, I gave us both space to unfurl our wings so we could fly to the wall. Our unit did the same, and we rose as one, both dogs howling and paws swiping through empty air as my mate carried them along with us.

Crimson fires dotted each gaping basin, stretching as far as I could see in either direction and disappearing over ridgelines in the distance. Males and females bearing bows lined up at the lip of the far side, arrows notched and ready to fire when the officer called for it. I spotted Olet at the closest guard tower, counting out soldiers and weapons. Females raced by him, carrying buckets of bolts between them.

Rokath angled us toward him, and we landed in quick succession in the only open space. Olet offered Rokath and me a quick salute before launching into an update on the Angel’s position. But his words were cut short by another blast of the horn. Our attention ripped down, and whispers of white appeared among the treeline.

Ice shattered through my veins as the Angels raced into the clearing. Thousands of them, many still stuck among the thick boughs, boasted furious, hateful, determined expressions. More rose from over the treetops, bringing with them a pure white light that lit up the night.

Stars winked out, unable to compete with the power of the Angel’s display.

Time slowed to a crawl as flashes of my mother, my father, and my sweet, sweet sister twisted my clamoring heart. Then Olrus and Izgath surged from the depths. The priestesses I’d barely gotten to know. All the people I loved who had died. Who I would meet in another world should we fail tonight.

Terror seized every muscle in my body. But I refused to fucking yield. Not now, not ever, to them. I’d show my people who and what we fought for.

“Prepare yourselves!” Rokath boomed, the depth of his voice reverberating along the stone. From his back, he drew his sword. The garnets embedded in the eyes of the skull on the pommel glinted in the light.

I yanked my own blades free, knees bending slightly as I prepared to face our enemy. Shouts threaded through the tension for the archers to prepare their first volley.

Almost instinctively, I sent a prayer to the three deities who had put me on the path that led to this moment—where my destiny would be realized, where all our fates had converged across Keleti.

Weaver, Giver, Reaper, hear me. Grant Rokath and I life after this. One more breath together. One more kiss. I will bleed the world dry for you. Feed your earth every drop of my blood if I must. So long as in the end, I have him.

A collective roar rose from the Demons, raising the hairs on the back of my neck with its ferocity.

And then, arrows flew.

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62

Angels plummeted from the skies like white streaks. Bolts jutted from broken wings. Blood streaked their pale uniforms. Branches snapped beneath their fall. Cries of alarm fractured the air, then silenced with satisfying crunches.

“Again!” I bellowed, and the archers notched and aimed. But the airborne Angels were faster with their bows drawn and at the ready. Arrows, like an oncoming storm, sailed toward us.

A shield of black shrouded the wall, saving us from the worst of the damage. Two bolts sank into the males at the front, one in the thigh, the other in a shoulder. Both pulled them free, though the one with the latter stepped out of line, a female from the second snatching his place.

A swell rose to our left, and Olet raced away to manage that section. “Fire at will,” I commanded the archers. To the Deathveiled, I said, “Use your shadows to cover them. When the Angels reach the base of the wall, we attack.”

“Yes, sir!” they replied, spreading out behind the third line. Beside me, Assyria’s magic unfurled from her fingertips, poised to spear into the skies and protect our soldiers.

Her focus remained on the Angels approaching from below, gauging their distance as much as I was. “I need to be everyone,” she murmured, her brows pinching as she thought. “Me one moment, you another, the Myrza after that. Each form has its advantages.”

Arrows rained down again, barely visible until they were close enough to strike. Without hesitation, her shadows burst outward, creating a thick veil that left no one vulnerable. Not a single strike found purchase. When the clattering ceased, she dropped it, allowing the projectiles to fall all around us. Those at the rear scooped them up and shoved them into quivers for reuse.

The first line fired back, felling another dozen Angels from the sky. Too late, they saw the ones diverging from the right. Projectiles sank into the males at the front. Many collapsed backward, hands clasped over wounded necks.

The first dead.

I glanced at Assyria, worried for her reaction. Her jaw was set hard, but she didn’t crack. Didn’t crumble. Merely bore witness to their sacrifice. Accepted it as part of their path.

More soldiers filled the empty space. Hands reached to pile the deceased out the way, where they could be burned later or wielded by me.

The Angels on the ground closed in, and the archers fired down, halting their advance for the briefest of moments.

It was time.

“Cover us.”

“Yes, sir,” the Vezető in charge responded without breaking his focus.

“Let’s go,” I shouted at the Deathveiled. Zurronar and Banand spun on their squads, barking instructions. Their Százados relayed further information over the wall, where most of the ground forces waited.

Beside me, Assyria’s magic swirled around her form, until I stood shoulder to shoulder with myself. My magic snaked out and wrapped around her waist. I collected Grem and Zeec in my web, then eased us off the stone. Bringing my fingers to my lips, I let out a sharp whistle, signaling our advance.

Like a swarm of red and black, our army rose. Wings buffeted the air. Shadow crawled through the night, battling with the Angel’s light for space in the skies. We dove toward the ground, covered by the power of thousands atop the wall.

Dozens of squads landed on either side of us in the clearing. On one side, Olet’s battalion charged forward. On the other, two Parancsok combined forces, sending their soldiers clamoring over rocks to cut off any opportunity to take the wall.

The scrape of swords removed from sheaths, the whoosh of glaives slicing through the air, the clink of throwing daggers being stacked, all of it formed an all too familiar harmony.

“Prepare yourselves!” I shouted, digging my heel into the dirt. Beside me, Assyria did the same, drawing a sword that was more appropriate for her normal size. But she wouldn’t impersonate me for long. Just enough to sow chaos into the rabid, fast-approaching Angels.

“Cease shadow!” came my next command. All Demon magic dissipated, bathing the clearing in light. Confusion flickered in blue eyes, and paces slowed, especially in the groups directly facing us.

“Now!” I roared, and as one, the Demon army raced forward, polearms taking the first swipes at our attackers.

Blood spilled for the Fates a moment later. The clash of bronze and silver rang through the clearing next. Cries of the dying followed, and I chased them, adrenaline flowing in my veins. Beside me, Assyria pounded the earth, churning it as she skidded to a stop and sidestepped a blow. Zeec bounded forward, protecting Assyria’s flank. I sank my blade into the neck of the first pathetic Angel to challenge me. The next died without so much as a scream.

A boom sounded to my left, and the dirt exploded, sending a group flying backward. Retaliation came in the form of the illusion of a dozen more sailing overhead. Yet it was a pathetic attempt at best, and I ignored it in favor of cutting down a female headed for Assyria.

She whipped around, and a smirk curved my lips. “You’re welcome.”

Her eyes glittered with amusement through the slits in my helmet. “I’ll never believe that you don’t know how to joke,” she quipped. Then, she swung her blade out, catching a male passing by in the side. It was an impressive move for her only having seen him in her periphery.

“Don’t tire yourself out,” I cautioned, stepping closer so we battled side by side. “It will be a long night yet.”

A group of Angels fell to their knees in front of us, clawing at their eyes. We leaped through the shimmer, cutting all of them down. Izzenna appeared from Assyria’s right, wiping sweat from her brow. With another twist of her hands, she created a new nightmare. We stomped them out of existence.

Assyria released my form with her next breath, the height and bulk unnecessary as the Deathveiled worked magic and weapons together to carve a gouge into the Angel’s line. Yet for every dozen we cut down, two dozen more came to take their place.

The scent of iron thickened the air. The leakage of corpses soaked the dirt. And still, we fought.

Movement above caught my eye, and I snapped a hand out, barely managing to yank Assyria out of the way of a falling Angel. His glassy, lifeless navy eyes stared up at the light slowly petering out overhead.

She stumbled into me, and I savored the feeling of steadying her. My grip tightened of its own accord. I was a possessive beast, especially with her here on the battlefield. My pulse pounded in my ears, and hers beat against my armor.

With her safe in my arms, I snatched an opportunity to assess our surroundings. In every direction, Angels and Demons battled for the cleared space in front of the wall. The left flank was holding strong, but the right was faltering. Angels pressed inward like they were flexing the bend of a bow, and the soldiers struggled to straighten out.

“We need to head that way.” I spun her so she saw what I did.

“Then let’s go,” she replied, determination threaded in her tone. I forced myself to release her.

“With me!” she shouted at the others. I cursed as she took off at a sprint, leaving me behind. Izzenna and Vokkia raced after her, leaping over the bodies they’d helped slaughter and whooping from the thrill.

Zeec bounded alongside my mate, and I whistled at Grem to follow, rage and fear a tumult in my chest. The rest of the males chased after us, Uzadaan swinging a massive hammer at an Angel who tried to take advantage of our change in direction.

Blood pooled under broken wings—feathered and membranous alike.

Another group burst through the trees, cutting off my line of sight to my mate. Fury flared, and I swung a powerful arc toward the center. The Angel soldiers leaped out of the way, then two lunged for me at once. A blast of shadow sent one stumbling. Grem leaped, teeth bared, and closed them around the male’s throat. The second I sliced from dick to sternum.

Zurronar froze three more of them, allowing another female to stab each between the ribs as she raced by, following the Szélhámos who had given her the ability to stand on the battlefield in the first place. The devotion these former priestesses showed my mate warmed my cold heart.

The threat cleared, I finally reunited with her—and not a moment too soon. An Angel female leaped for her, and their weapons collided. Assyria’s teeth gritted in determination. A small explosion rocked the ground at their feet, but Assyria bent her knees and absorbed the blow. Vokkia leaped in and finished her off.

“Thank you,” Assyria panted. Then, she saw me approach, and relief unpinched her brows.

“Do not run off without me again,” I growled, my tone leaving no room for argument. Yet pride—at her merciless kills, at her unyielding effort, at how far she’s come since our bond snapped into place—heated me from the inside out.

She shot me a saccharine grin. “Make me.”

My nostrils flared as my cock twitched. “Now is not the time for your games.”

“Come on, Halálhívó. We both know we love nothing more than this banter.” Lust flooded our bond as she stepped closer. “And fucking after we get bloody.”

A low groan vibrated against my ribs. I grabbed her arm and yanked her close. “I will fuck you on the streets of Sivy after this for your continued disobedience and use of that smart mouth.”

“Do it,” she purred, batting her long lashes against her cheeks. “But for now, we have a battle to win.”

Dark satisfaction curled through me at the devious look in her eyes. My blood sang for her. For the slaughter. For what would come after. “Aye, we do.”

I released her, and she flipped the hilt of her sword around her wrist. Zurronar’s squads had held the line while we stole a moment amid the bloodshed. He and Banand worked in tandem to dent the Angel’s forces as the Deathveiled regrouped. Araquiel moved between them, many of her kin screaming obscenities in her face as she jabbed a glaive into their midst.

I watched for a moment, wondering if she’d falter. If doubt would cross her stoic expression. If she’d turn that weapon on her mate and the Demons around her.

She didn’t, even as a tear carved down her cheek, mixing with her sweat.

An oncoming attack ripped my attention away. Metal clashed in my ears, and I disarmed the male in three vicious movements. I fell into the steady rhythm of strike, parry, kill, command. Grem and Zeec worked diligently to take down Angels alongside us, ensuring my mate was fully protected. The Deathveiled thrived, working in perfect unison.