Better, she needed to help him and Boa claw back a victory. Perhaps rescuing Klaus was no longer the only reason for going to Angharad.
“Ocea was forced to move out, too, soon after the Pyreack forces learned I was among them,” Boa added, voice bleak. “Piss Swill wanted me for the key, and I was hunted daily. And by then, everyone they’d captured from the Battle of the Blue Desert was long dead.”
Silence fell, thicker than blood or wine.
Stasha gnawed her lip. How was she going to get an army into Angharad when fae warriors so much better equipped and qualified than her had failed? And if it was so futile a venture, why had Boa agreed to help? Even Averin had been willing to try again.
What had changed?
Boa’s goblet clicked as she placed it beside her empty plate. “We’ll go over the maps tomorrow.” Her mauve eyes glinted. “And perhaps our Pyreack.…” She hesitated, then added, “Stasha can come up with a solution the rest of us have missed.”
Was Boa going to say “weapon”? Or was Stasha’s imagination running away with her? She allowed a grin to ghost her face. “I’ve always had a soft spot for an army of underdogs.”
Boa scoffed a laugh. “What part of the story did you miss, Stasha? We have been underdogs for centuries.”
Heat rolled in Stasha’s bones. But not the heat that set forests and tents ablaze and needed Boa’s water to put it out. This was different.
“You’ve never had a human-turned-fae working with you. Unlike you lot, I don’t see failure when I think of Angharad.” She saw a lad in the fighting pits who was beaten to a pulp and still outsmarted his opponent to win a hopeless fight. Her insides clenched as she remembered Hathrine, who kept getting up day after day when she had no one and nothing left to hold onto. And Klaus, who fought against the Martka and Kňazer to save her from execution.
She saw a bright-red ribbon.
At first light, Stasha stood outside Averin’s tent. She hit the flap. “It’s day. Klaus will be in Angharad by now. We need to start planning this heist.”
A low chuckle reached her. The tent flap parted, and Averin stepped out. She breathed in the mix of snow, sun-kissed oranges, and chai spices that was his unique smell. Despite his heady scent, dressed in black, and bristling with blades, he radiated his usual quiet menace. “Morning, pit princess. You’ll be pleased to know that Trystaen and Eliezar have already been out this morning to meet with Boa. We are to grab some food and join them in the map tent.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “I doubt Klaus is being offered breakfast. Food can wait.”
“Which is exactly what I thought you’d say.” Averin held out a chunk of cake stuffed with fruit and nuts. “I brought this for you.”
She took it, smiling her thanks. They started walking. “You knew I’d come looking for you?”
Averin shrugged. “I like to keep a step ahead in my conquests.”
She looked away to hide her blush. “Conquests? You’re talking about rescuing Klaus, I assume.”
Averin sniggered like she’d just told a dirty joke. “The maps are this way.” He pointed down a path hacked through the forest. It was lined with small tents out of which rebels spilled, preparing for the day.
She took a bite of the cake—delicious and far better than talking about anything that could make her face betray her conflicted emotions about Averin. She swallowed her last bite. “How do they keep this camp hidden? All those lights last night. And this huge scar in the forest.”
“Glamour. Unless invited in by Boa, anyone looking at it will just see a putrid swamp.”
“If Piss Swill controls Ocea, how can Boa still wield so much power?”
“Because she has that much power. Darien rules the kingdom because he’s the most powerful, having stolen from the true king. But other fae still use their magic uninhibited.”
“Does he know when they use their magic?”
“No.” Averin bumped her shoulder. “If he did, we’d have had an army descend on us last night after your performance.”
A blue-eyed fae approached them. Averin’s dark eyebrows rose, and his step faltered. The fae skipped, almost but not quite bowing, and then dipped her head, as if ashamed to meet his gaze. The two passed each other without a word.
“A defector?” Stasha couldn’t resist asking.
Averin nodded. “We get them. All the kingdoms do. Hotheads who throw it in to fight with Boa. That fae was a captain in my regular army, not my Azura.”
“I guess they’ve all lost someone.”
Familiar darkness settled on Averin. “Losing someone isn’t a good enough reason to be stupid. One still needs to be smart about how one wages this war.”
“So joining Boa is stupid?”
“Boa’s soldiers don’t have a long life expectancy. That’s wasteful.”
Stasha bristled. “Perhaps they don’t want a long life if they’ve lost the only thing that matters. But maybe you don’t get that, Averin. I know you said you lost soldiers in the attack on Angharad, but it isn’t really the same as losing someone close to you, is it?”
Averin stopped walking and bore down on her. “Not fair. You don’t hold the world’s corner on grief, Stasha.” She recoiled and was about to defend herself when he snapped, “I lost my sister in Angharad. Nela was one of the hotheads who wouldn’t listen when I said no to King Appius’s request for a massive army to go against Darien. Even Eliezar pleaded with her not to go.” His voice hardened. “She rejected his counsel too.”
Stasha had made assumptions about other fae’s pain. Wrongfully. She rubbed the scar on her hand. Even though she guessed the answer, she had to know. “What happened to her?”
“She was one of the fae I saw flayed and left to die. I believe she was the reason they lowered their shields to let me see what they were doing.” The hand Averin ran through his hair jerked his frustration. “I also wanted to go mad and send hurricanes against them.” A bitter laugh. “In fact, I tried. For a year. With everything I had. But I couldn’t destroy that mountain. Eliezar has never really recovered, but I have. And I no longer waste valuable resources on no-hope ventures.” Back straight as an arrow, Averin started walking down the path.
She lengthened her stride to keep up with him. “Nela and Eliezar were lovers?”
“Sealed. Husband and wife.”
She swallowed, gaining sudden insight into Eliezar’s quiet watchfulness. His inscrutability when they had discussed the siege of Angharad the night before made sense. He was hurting, just as she was, just as so many were in this terrible war.
“Is that why you won’t commit the Azura to our … venture? Because you believe it hopeless?”
Averin tossed a cocky smile at her, the vortex of anger and pain gone from sight. “I’m a valuable resource, too, Stasha. If I believed it truly hopeless, I would not be going with you.”
A large tent loomed at the end of the path. She guessed it was where Boa housed her maps. As anxious as she was to get the talking done and everyone moving to Angharad, she paused before having to face the rest of the team. Averin slowed too.
She grabbed his hand so he would focus on her. “Klaus is everything to me, but I’m not stupid. I have a plan. A good one, but it’s risky. I need your support in there to make it happen.”
Averin cradled her hand in both of his and swirled her up into the stars that were his eyes. “You are not a resource I can risk.”
She tsked. “I’m a weapon. Radomir said so. And Suren. You’ve implied it.” She pulled her hand away from his and swept her arms in an arc. “Everyone here thinks it. Let me do what I was designed to do.”
Averin canted his head, and she knew a speculative gaze would follow. She wasn’t disappointed; she was beginning to read his shifting moods. A moment later, he shook his head as if he’d made a decision. “You’re not an object, or a means to an end. I want you alive and happy.” His voice dried. “And just a tad fatter, so I know that a stiff breeze won’t blow you over.” He t
ucked her hand under his arm. “Now, come. Let’s get this done so we can get you home. And by that, I mean Zephyr, where we both belong. There’s a bed waiting for you in the palace in Ilyseryph.”
So Averin was going to be difficult? She scowled as she walked with him between the tent flaps. In that case, she’d have to find another ally to help her do what Averin wouldn’t.
Her gaze settled on Boa.
Dressed in black leathers, the rebel leader stood at a trestle table covered with rolled-out maps, held open with stones. The edges of the parchments were frayed and the maps worn, like they’d been pored over a hundred times by fae trying to discover their secrets. Trystaen, Eliezar, Lukas, and Frea were also gathered around the table.
“Averin. Stasha,” Boa said. “I was just saying that I’ve received a report about a ship loaded with human slaves. It docked in Kyhox during the night.”
The name of the port that fed Angharad? Stasha grabbed the table to stop herself from swaying.
Averin stepped right behind her. He stood so close, she sensed him brushing her through her clothes. His breath even tickled the back of her neck. It surprised her how much it centered her, having him there. She managed to keep her voice steady enough to ask, “Where are they now?”
“Some of them were taken to Angharad in wagons, but the majority were spirited into the camp.” Lukas ran thick fingers over the black words on the map. They swam before her, finally decoding to read: Angharad Death Camp.
Averin slipped his arms past her sides and placed his hands on the map. “We need to brief Stasha on the layout of Angharad.”
Both Trystaen and Eliezar looked up at Averin. Trystaen’s mouth parted, perhaps in surprise at Averin’s weird protectiveness. But it was Eliezar’s thoughts that interested her the most. As usual, the wolfish fae gave nothing away, but she thought for the briefest moment that something had flickered in his eyes. Whatever it was vanished too quickly for her to interpret. But it was enough to make her push back against Averin.
He stepped away instantly and moved next to her at the table. Without missing a beat, he pointed at a sharp-peaked mountain drawn in tight lines on the map. It had a crater in its heart. He tapped one side of the mountain with a long finger. “Entrance here, guarded by a schorl portcullis. Leads to a tunnel.” Then he tapped the mountain slope inside the crater. “And here.”
Two schorl portcullises. That meant she couldn’t just melt the gates and walk right into the camp. “What else do we know?”
“Nothing.” Averin shrugged. “Wish I could tell you more, but no one Boa and I sent in ever came out to share details.”
Boa flicked the map. “Averin and I always assumed they keep the fae and humans separate. At least to quarter them when they aren’t working.”
“Why? Surely they won’t care that fae would terrify the humans witless.”
“Schorl.” Stasha glanced up at Eliezar, who manacled his wrist with his fingers. “They would want to keep the fae from using magic. They would do that with schorl-clad walls and manacles. Humans don’t need that.”
That made sense. “Just how much schorl is there in the world?”
“Supplies aren’t limitless,” Averin said. “So it makes sense that they would use it judiciously. But before we even think about where they stash everyone, we have to get in.”
“We have a plan.” Boa glanced at Lukas and the surly Frea. “We stayed up most of the night talking about this heist.”
Apart from bleak faces, none of them looked sleep deprived. A fae thing, no doubt.
“We’ll use the hijacked-prison-wagon routine again,” Boa said.
Averin, Trystaen, and Eliezar all frowned. Averin even huffed. “Boa, not that old chestnut.” He turned to Stasha. “We used that a few times. We always got people in. They just never came out.”
“Have you any other ideas to get warriors into an impenetrable camp?” Boa’s voice was icy.
Averin ran a hand over his eyes. “No. And you know that.”
“Then stop arguing.” Boa turned her back on Averin. “Stasha, Averin and I are experts at this. We will get you through the portcullis. But the rest will be up to you.”
At least that was something.
Averin opened his mouth, but Stasha cut him off. “I have some questions before we get into details.” She poked the crater in the center of the mine. It had to be where they had staked Nela, Averin’s sister and Eliezar’s wife. “What’s this used for?”
Averin folded his arms. “Barracks. Guard houses. The tower from where they control the portcullises. I had a good look at it when I flew over.” Another shrug. “Things might have changed in the last sixty years, but that’s what it was back then.”
Stasha bit her lip, embarrassed about what she was about to ask. She tossed her head back. They all knew she was an ignorant orphan who had never traveled more than twenty miles from her home before this. “Where are we now in relation to Angharad? I’m somewhat confused.”
Frea snorted low in her throat, but loud enough for everyone to hear. Stasha bit her tongue to stop a sharp retort. Infighting wasn’t going to get Klaus rescued. Given the heavy silence, everyone else must have agreed with Frea, but that didn’t stop Averin from glaring at her.
Lukas pulled another length of parchment across the table and tossed it on top of the Angharad map. One of the corners curled, so he held it down with a slab of jade carved with the fish crest.
Even Stasha recognized it as a map of Zathryth.
“We’re here. In Atria.” Lukas pointed to a blank spot on the map not far from the border between Atria and Ocea.
Boa waved at the fae in the tent. “I can spirit us across the border into Ocea. I’ll make it as far as Laughing Pools. From there, Averin will have to take over. But even he’ll need to rest up overnight. We can’t have us both weakened by spiriting.”
“Spiriting weakens fae?” Stasha asked. “That doesn’t make sense when you all seem to do everything so effortlessly.”
“Magical strength and physical strength aren’t the same thing,” Lukas said. “And it takes magic to spirit.”
“Physical strength comes from bone and muscle and endurance,” Eliezar added in his usual quiet way. “Spiriting is a very specific talent that only some fae possess. Not many could spirit seven people over huge distances.”
Radomir had been strong enough to spirit an entire schorl wagon.
She’d always been taught that the fae were all-powerful, capable of doing anything imaginable with no limitations. She’d been foolish for believing it. “I guess I’ve got a lot to learn.”
“You’ll get there. It may just take some time,” Eliezar said.
Boa prodded the map. “Once we cross the Laughing Pools, Averin and I can work together to spirit us across Ocea to the border with Pyreack.” She turned to Averin. “You’ll have to get the Azura to meet us at the border.”
Averin’s face hardened. “The Azura won’t be joining us on this mission.”
“What?” Boa’s mauve eyes swirled with currents of disbelief.
“You heard.” Averin’s jaw remained hard. “I’m not involving the Azura. We handle this on our own or not at all.”
“Not again, Averin!” Mist sprayed from Boa’s fingers. “The Azura are the best fighting force on Zathryth. This time, with them and Stasha, we can’t lose.”
“Thanks for the compliment.” The hard lines of Averin’s face showed no signs of appreciation. “I’ve worked hard during the last sixty years to hone them, and they are good, but not for this mission.”
More mist billowed around Boa. She clenched her hands together. “This is what they were designed for! You told me that yourself after our failure. We lay under the stars together, and you told me you planned to create the ultimate fighting force to take on the Pyreack. So use them, or we might as well not bother going!”
Not go? Over her dead body.
“Enough! Even underdog orphans know that you don’t turn against each other!�
� Stasha slammed her hands on the table. Sparks flew and ignited the edges of the map. She slapped them, but the fire spread.
Eliezar pulled her away. He leaned in. “First chance we get,” he whispered, “you and I are doing some training.”
By the time she’d struggled out of his arms, the fire had been extinguished. Boa, Averin—everyone—glared at her.
“You have to stop doing that,” Frea snapped, speaking for the very first time since Stasha had arrived at the camp.
Utterly remorseless, Stasha shot back, “Then stop annoying me. All of you. And while I would love to know the reason why Averin is mollycoddling his soldiers, I’m not letting that get in the way of me rescuing Klaus.” She spun to Boa. “You said you can get me through the portcullis. Do that.” She rounded on Averin. “And you won’t bring in your precious Azura, so you have to cope with me waging this war on my own.”
Averin paled and threw up his hands. “No, Stasha—”
“Shut up! You don’t get to have it all your own way, Averin. I’m the last thing the Pyreack will expect to drop into Angharad.” Heat burned through her skin, and with it a shimmer of blue-green fire. “And trust me: when I’m done, I will be the last thing that ever drops into that place.”
Averin closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t let you do this.”
“Then bring in the Azura.” Boa punched Averin’s arm. “Make up for how you failed me sixty years ago.”
Wind whipped Averin’s hair, and he levitated a foot off the floor.
Trystaen jumped between him and Boa. He grabbed Averin’s tunic and yanked him back to the ground. “Boa,” Trystaen said. “The Azura will not be coming. One word to the Zephyr royals about this adventure, and King Seph will command Averin to return to Ilyseryph.” He jerked a thumb at Stasha. “With her. And you know Averin. He would rather beg for forgiveness than ask for permission.”
Boa lunged at Trystaen. “You don’t leave here without my permission. And if you think I’d let Stasha go, then you’re insane.”
Trystaen tossed his hands in the air. The ground shuddered so hard, a map slid off the table onto the floor. Stasha’s heart almost stilled as she struggled to balance. Moments later, the earth settled.
The Fire Thief Page 18