“Why thank you, Lord.” Fen smiled. “I’ll take the credit, although it’s made in town by an acquaintance. I sell batches to the marsh folk in Juradia. They’re keen on it, too.”
“Is that what you do for a living?” She nibbled at the bread. “You’re a trader?”
“Trader, fisherman, boat taxi. Occasional sell-sword for Captain Brand, although not as often as Dax here. He gets more commissions than me. I’m not sure why.”
“I argue less,” the ground shifter quipped.
Rhetahn cleared his throat. “I’m surprised Brand hasn’t offered you a more permanent role in my army, Dax. After witnessing your prowess recently, it’s merited.”
“The honorable captain did make him an offer,” Fen chimed in. “He declined.”
“Shut up, Fen.” The ground shifter’s relaxed posture was suddenly replaced by stiffness.
Libby noted Dax’s angry, shuttered gaze and Rhetahn’s puckered brow. She guessed being offered a commission in The Three’s army was a great honor, even more if it came from one of the gods themselves.
She ventured a comment into the strained atmosphere. “I presume, as a free agent, you’re able to spend more time with your boys.”
He gave her a tight nod and rose from the table. “I’ll fetch more water from the well for the journey.”
“I’ve already boiled plenty.” Fen gestured to the various receptacles on the counters. “They’re cooling as we speak.”
“I’ll get more anyway.” His friend stomped out the exterior door to the deck, slamming it behind him.
The water shifter sighed. “I’ll pay for that slip of the tongue for a spell.”
“He declined the opportunity to join my army.” The god frowned. “Does he not understand the accolade?”
Fen sipped his tea. “He knows what it means, Lord. More than most. As to why he rejected it, that’s his story to tell. He won’t though, so I will say this, in case you assume his refusal was a purposeful snub toward you and your brothers. Has he told you of his wife’s death?”
“There was a landslide,” Libby said. “She saved the infants but perished in the process. What does it have to do with a dragon army commission?”
“Everything, little human. I presume Dax failed to mention that while Turel was dying, he was at Trivium.”
Rhetahn’s gaze sharpened. “Why?”
Fen raised his hands in supplication. “I’ll say no more. He’ll tell you himself, if he chooses. Needless-to-say, my stoic friend will never join your army. That doesn’t mean he didn’t yearn to, once.”
“What about you?” Libby decided to change the subject, despite her intense curiosity. “You’re content as a sell-sword?”
“Oh yes. I’m not keen on taking orders, unless they come from my mother. No one argues with her. The harpies should count themselves lucky she wasn’t present during their attack.”
“Where was she?”
“She and the rest of the gang are away, visiting my eldest sister in another town. I sent a messenger to tell them to stay there for now. It’ll be safer than traveling with the entire brood.”
“You have many siblings?”
“Yes, there are ten of us in total. After my youngest brother’s birth a few years ago, my mother decided she has contributed enough to the population. My father wept tears of joy when she told him.”
“If your siblings are anything like you, I’m not surprised.” The sardonic voice came from the kitchen door.
Lieutenant Jahda was as intimidating as Libby remembered, her dark hair wrapped in a tight bun and her eyes intent and watchful. She wore the same fatigues as earlier, black pants and a matching leather tank top with dragon head insignia. With a sword sheathed on her hip and an axe encased in a baldric on her shoulder, she looked ready to take on a demon army single-handed.
“My beloved,” Fen said enthusiastically. “Thank the gods you have returned to me.”
Jahda gave the water shifter such a withering stare, Libby was surprised Fen didn’t shrink in his seat. As the soldier locked on to her lord and made as if to bow, Rhetahn jumped up and enveloped her in an apparently spontaneous hug. The woman’s startled expression was a sight to behold. Libby bit her lip to stop her smile.
The god withdrew, color tracing his cheeks. “Lieutenant. I’m relieved you’re safe and healed from your injury.”
Jahda gave a brief bow. “Likewise, Lord. I bring greetings and news from your Captain of the Guard.”
“Captain Brand is well?” Rhetahn’s tone became formal, mirroring the soldier’s manner.
“Yes, Lord.”
“And Lord Mhaljett? How is he?”
Jahda hesitated, her gaze drifting across the room and hardening when it landed on Libby. Fen leaned back in his chair, a mischievous smile playing on his lips as he studied the soldier. Dax re-entered the kitchen behind Jahda, transferring water from a pail into the tin kettle on the hob.
“Perhaps it would be better if we discussed this alone,” Jahda said to Rhetahn.
The god returned to his seat. “I have nothing to hide from the individuals in this room, Lieutenant. Each has risked their life to aid me and deserve transparency in return.” He gestured at the food. “Speak while you eat. We must continue our expedition with haste.”
“Yes, sit, my dearest.” Fen gestured at the chair next to him. “I made this banquet with you in mind. I know your fondness for trout.”
Jahda’s lips thinned, and she stomped to the opposite end, close to Rhetahn. She sat, nudging her weapons out of the way and flicking another contemptuous glance at Libby. “I hope the human hasn’t caused too much disruption.”
“She’s been nothing but trouble,” Rhetahn said, deadpan.
“You’re one to talk,” Libby retorted, but broke into a smile when the god grinned at her.
Jahda observed their interaction but didn’t comment on it, instead falling on the food with gusto. Despite her apparent antipathy toward Fen, Libby noted, she still took the largest remaining trout fillet.
After a couple of minutes, Dax re-joined the table in silence. The water shifter inclined his head, and Dax nodded in response. She recognized the exchange as an apology and subsequent acceptance. The two men were old friends, judging by their interactions thus far.
Rhetahn allowed Jahda time to eat in peace, although a muscle twitched in his jaw. Libby squeezed his hand under the table. He placed his other hand over hers for a moment, then pulled away.
“Tell me,” he demanded, as the soldier swigged her tea. “What news of Mhaljett?”
“I have none. When I left Trivium before dawn yesterday, he remained unconscious in the throne room.”
He furrowed his brow. “I was told you brought news of my brother.”
“I do. But not Mhaljett.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
At Jahda’s pronouncement, Libby’s heart skipped a beat.
Rhetahn’s golden skin had paled. “Storren lives?”
“No, Lord, but there’s a chance he could.”
Libby, Dax, and Fen regarded each other in confusion.
“Explain yourself, Jahda.” The god’s tone was impassive, like he daren’t allow any hint of hope to enter.
The lieutenant took a deep breath. “After the battle on the mountainside, I awoke from my unconsciousness at Trivium to find chaos, utter pandemonium. Ministers were trying to maintain order, but news of the failed ritual and battle spread beyond the castle walls. The city residents were hysterical, demanding answers at the gates and grieving the dead even as healers tended the injured. As Captain Brand calmed the situation, we were informed a visitor waited on the Zenith.”
“A visitor?” Rhetahn studied her narrowly. “Who?”
“Lord Terashuezak, of the North Sleets.”
“Terashuezak? My reclusive cousin flew in after the ritual?”
“An ice dragon?” Libby said in awe. “I thought they hardly ever left the Sleets.”
Jahda threw her a glare.
“What would you know of anything?”
Libby bristled, refusing to be cowed. A lot had changed since the intimidating woman collected her from Flat Peak. “Enough to recognize an ice dragon at Trivium is an unusual event.”
Rhetahn snorted. “That’s an understatement. What did Terash want, Jahda?”
“Storren. He wanted your brother’s body and amulet.”
“What? Why?”
“His spies brought him news of what took place in the ritual. Your cousin came hoping to find you returned—”
“Wait.” Libby stared. “His spies?”
The god grimaced. “Despite their self-imposed solitude, the ice dragons keep a close eye on the goings-on in the Shifterlands. Many air shifters are in their employ. It’s irritating but, it must be said, often useful, as normally Terash passes any pertinent information on to us. Most of the spies are small; they can infiltrate anywhere.”
She didn’t try to hide her fascination. “So, the air shifters’ forms are...”
“Birds, yes.” Rhetahn nodded. “Different types of birds, mainly owls and sparrows. Continue, Lieutenant.”
Jahda inclined her head. “In your absence and Mhaljett’s unconsciousness, Lord Terash spoke to Captain Brand. He said it’s possible to bring Lord Storren back using something we believed lost millennia ago. The Rondure.”
The god’s mouth fell open. “The stone can bring my brother back?”
“Your cousin believes it, at least that’s what his mages told him. The Rondure can restore Storren’s life and power. It wasn’t destroyed years ago, as we believed. According to Terash’s spies, the human sorcerers hid it away in Paskyll, to utilize its power for their own purposes.”
Fen whistled. “What a revelation, my love.”
Jahda narrowed her gaze. “Call me love again, eel, I dare you.”
“Storren can return?” Rhetahn rasped. “He is not lost to me?”
“Yes, Lord.” Jahda sounded as emotional as the god. “Your brother’s fate is not sealed. Hence why I’m here. Captain Brand sent me in the hope that if I found Fen, I’d find you too. Lord Terash emphasized the need for urgency. Storren’s body cannot be stored in ice forever; he will soon pass beyond the point of aid. We must find the Rondure with haste and get it to the North Sleets.”
With Rhetahn lost in the magnitude of the disclosure, Libby exchanged a knowing glance with Dax.
“Your suspicions about the council were correct,” the ground shifter murmured.
“They chose power above their own people,” she said faintly. “They made us believe we had no choice but to provide aspirants for the selection ceremony each time.”
Rhetahn stirred, his voice cold enough to make her shiver. “They will pay. They have betrayed their own race with their selfishness and renounced their gods in the process. Such treason cannot be tolerated.” He addressed Jahda. “The news regarding the Rondure’s continued existence isn’t a surprise. Lissabet says many humans have suspected it for years. The sorcerers have abused their power to such an extent, no one dares challenge them for fear of repercussion.”
“Repercussion from whom?” Fen queried.
“The Three,” Libby said. “Everything the sorcerers say, every order, every council missive, comes from the gods. So they maintain.” She blinked. “Wait a minute. If the ice dragons have known of the Rondure’s existence for years, why haven’t they told you? Why did they let the rituals go ahead? They could have stopped them years ago!”
The god hesitated. “Terash and his kin are...dismissive of other races, Libby. My brothers and I may have lapsed in our care toward your people, but ice dragons don’t believe we should care at all. They assert dragon shifters are superior to other races, none more so than humans. They wouldn’t regard the sacrifices’ needless deaths as consequential.”
“Your cousin said as much,” Jahda agreed. “Nevertheless, upon hearing what befell Storren, he was compelled to act. He provided directions to the location of the stone—”
“No need. It’s not hidden anymore. It’s moving through Scabarus Gorge as we speak, in the hands of the high sorcerer.”
Jahda blinked. “You’re certain of this, Lord?”
“Not entirely, but would you travel with demons without your most powerful weapon? I’m positive he will have it with him, concealed from sight.”
“Excellent news.” The woman’s expression brightened. “You don’t have to go to Paskyll to retrieve the Rondure, simply continue your journey to intercept the council. With your permission, I will fly Storren’s amulet to the Sleets now, and return with a company of soldiers to aid you. Once you have sacrificed the girl and regained your strength, you can take the Rondure from the high sorcerer and restore your brother to life.”
Fen raised his teacup. “Lord Storren shall return, the demons shall be vanquished, and victory attained.”
The god didn’t respond. Neither did Dax. Libby also stayed mute, a shadow creeping across her heart at Jahda’s triumphant words. She’d been so overwhelmed by the lieutenant’s news, its full significance hadn’t sunk in. Judging by Rhetahn’s anguished reticence, the potential impact had hit him too.
The ground shifter addressed Jahda in a careful voice. “Will the entirety of the Rondure’s power be required to bring back Storren?”
“Almost certainly. Why?”
Libby swallowed, staring at the tabletop. Bleak finality descended like a dark cloak, like she’d been ambushed in the sunshine. Her reprieve was over.
As the ground shifter opened his mouth to answer, she stopped him in a rush. “It’s fine, Dax. I accepted my fate earlier. I’ll do it again. Bringing back Lord Storren is of paramount importance and the stone must be used for nothing else.”
Dax frowned, but it was Rhetahn who responded.
“This doesn’t change anything, little cat. The sorcerers will have servants traveling with them. I can take—”
“No.” She rose with such abruptness that she knocked her empty teacup off the table. The god caught it one-handed, studying her in concern.
“I need some air,” she said. “I’m going outside for a moment.”
“Sit down this instant, Sacrifice,” Jahda snapped.
Rhetahn snarled. “The girl is not yours to command, Lieutenant.” His tone gentled. “Don’t go far, Libby. It’s not safe.”
Her attempt at nonchalance was betrayed by her voice trembling like a leaf in the breeze. “I’ll stay close, although the harpies will be sheltering from the sun now, won’t they?”
“Yes, and they prefer the mountain caves to the trees.” Fen’s, sharp gaze darted between her, Rhetahn, and Dax. “Avoid thick pine clusters, though, just in case.”
Inclining her head at Fen’s words, she scurried for the door to the deck. The god’s urgent voice stopped her when she yanked it open.
“Libby, we’ll come up with something. I promise.”
She didn’t look back, shutting the door behind her and stumbling down the steps. The sounds of the bubbling Pikk and the birdsong from the swaying trees sounded mockingly loud. She glanced upward. Were any of the feathered creatures in the trees air shifter spies, working for the ice dragons? It seemed odd that The Three allowed their cousins such liberties, but perhaps, as Rhetahn said, the benefits outweighed the brazenness of it. It certainly wasn’t something she needed to worry about. She’d be dead soon, anyway.
She hurried to the boathouse and leaned against the timber wall, trying to slow her heartbeat as a dark refrain swirled in her mind like a whirlpool.
Her death was a certainty again.
She would not allow Rhetahn to murder an innocent servant instead of her. Her guilt would last a lifetime. Moreover, she would never forgive him for doing it. And he couldn’t use the Rondure now, when there was a chance to save Storren. Not just because the youngest god’s presence was vital against the advancing demons; also because of Rhetahn’s desolation at his loss. He needed his brother. Storren’s presence was essential. Hers was not.
She took a deep breath. Rhetahn would resist. She wasn’t naive enough to believe he felt anything more than lustful fondness for her, but she knew he no longer wanted to kill her. He would hassle her to permit the death of a servant, instead. He would cajole her, command her, and even restrain her to make it happen. How could she convince him that her death was the best way forward?
She forced away the cold fear creeping into her heart. Pawn of Thassa’s plan or not, as the chosen sacrifice, she would meet her fate with courage and integrity. After she convinced the stubborn, prideful god to dole it out.
Rubbing her temples, she blinked back tears. Water lapped against the riverbank a few feet in front of her and a breeze swayed the trees above her head. Birds warbled from the canopy and two red squirrels scampered up a conifer, flicking their fluffy tails. The summer sun beamed on the peaceful scene, the forest’s tranquil cadence making her turbulence seem even more incongruous.
Movement on the other side of the boathouse wall made her stiffen. Had Rhetahn followed her? She was not ready for the impending argument if so.
A creak and a bump preceded a childish giggle, a distinctly ungodlike sound.
She frowned and peeped through a knot in the wood. The boathouse’s open frontage revealed the outline of a sleek sailing boat, its sails lowered and secured against the mast. A glimpse of a face made her jump; a boy with dark hair and shining eyes, studying her.
“Hello,” she called through the hole, hoping not to scare him. “Child, what are you doing here? Are you lost?”
Where in the realm had the youngster come from? She headed for the boathouse door, but a snicker made her spin around. He peeped from the open side next to the river, then darted away.
“Little boy?” She hurried toward him. “Come away from the water, please, dear.”
Another answering giggle came, followed by a cry and a splash.
No!
She rushed to the riverbank, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Opening her mouth to call her companions, unease crawled across her shoulder blades. The child had vanished. In fact, the wood was ominously quiet all of a sudden. Even the birds in the trees hushed their songs, as if a predator passed by.
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