by K. A. Linde
“He said they were flying the Tiekan colors.”
Cyrene paled. “Killian. But I didn’t think he’d enter the fight. Do you think Malysa convinced him?”
“I think we should go find out.”
Cyrene mounted and guided her Eleysian stallion to the edge of camp. Dean pulled up his horse alongside her.
“Why did you stop?” he asked.
She gestured toward the trail of dust in the distance. “A messenger.”
“It could be a trap.”
“Isn’t everything?”
He shot her a wry look. “We should get back to the army. Let the messenger come to you.”
But Cyrene didn’t move. She knew that much rested on today. She could already hear the sounds of her army rousing and beginning to move into formation. The last two days had been good for them. The next twenty-four hours would prove if it was all enough.
The messenger came to a stop before them. His horse was foaming at the mouth and lathered up from the journey. The man must have ridden him hard.
“I have a message for Domina Cyrene,” the man said.
“I am the Domina.”
The man came down from his horse and bowed regally. “Your Majesty.”
Dean plucked the letter out of the messenger’s hand and passed it to Cyrene.
“I am surprised King Killian would bring his forces to this battlefield.”
The messenger spat on the ground. “We do not march for that coward.”
Cyrene startled, hesitating on the envelope. “Then, whom do you march for?”
“The rightful Queen Kaliana.”
Cyrene’s mouth dropped open. How? That was what she wanted to ask. The last she had heard was that…Kael had planned to kill Kaliana. And now, she had gotten the Tiekan army here.
She ripped open the letter and read.
* * *
Cyrene—
I pray that you have Alessia safe.
I bring this army to you in her name.
Let’s do this together one last time.
—Kaliana
* * *
And underneath the short note was hastily scrawled cursive.
* * *
I couldn’t let you have all the fun.
—Basille Selby
* * *
Cyrene laughed. The bastard. He must have roused the people against Killian when he decided to remain neutral. And he’d helped put Kaliana in Killian’s place to move the army here. Cyrene could hardly believe they had done it all in such a short amount of time. But they had. And they were here.
“Have the Tyghans bring forth the remainder of the arsenal,” Cyrene told Dean. “We have a war to win.”
Cyrene stood in a small circle with her friends. Just the closest and oldest of the lot. Avoca and Ahlvie, wearing matching ice-white Eldorian fighting knives. Orden, tall and strong and littered with Hohl steel. Dean, standing with his arms folded over his chest. His face was scarily blank, as if he were settling back into the person he’d had to be to survive Domara. Ceis’f’s long silver hair was braided back out of his face. He looked determined. She knew he was looking for his revenge. Only Vera looked unfazed by what was to come.
Yet they all had their own missions.
Their own goals in this war.
And Cyrene hoped that it would be enough.
She could see all the people missing in their circle. The ones who hadn’t made it. And she was here to win this for them. So that all this wouldn’t be for nothing.
“Thank you for believing in me all this time,” Cyrene said. “I believe in all of you just as much. I know that there is nothing that we can’t do together. So, let’s go out there and win this one more time.”
“Hell yeah,” Ahlvie cheered.
Avoca shook her head at him. “Can you take anything seriously?”
“Who said I wasn’t taking this seriously?”
“Everyone,” Ceis’f said with an arched eyebrow.
“Come on, boy,” Orden said, putting his arm around Ahlvie. “Let’s get to the front.”
Suddenly, Ahlvie stiffened.
“What is it?” Cyrene asked.
“They’re here.”
She didn’t have to ask who. The Indres. Malysa had made her appearance in Byern.
“Can you reach them?” Cyrene asked him.
He shook his head. “Blocked somehow.” A shadow of worry crossed his face. “I’ll figure it out.”
She nodded. “All right. Good luck.”
Ahlvie and Orden loped off toward the front lines to meet up with Quidera and Gwynora.
“Shall we?”
The rest of her friends headed toward their respective dragons. Cyrene would have Avoca on Sarielle with her. Dean and Ceis’f would be on Halcyon. While Vera would be riding Ameerath.
Vera nodded at her once. “Good luck.”
“Thank you. Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“I know you enjoy the healing tents.”
Vera smiled. “I will be where I’m needed.”
Cyrene pulled Vera into a final hug and then trotted after Avoca to Sarielle. She touched the bond for both of them at the same time. Warmth and familiarity flooded her system.
She hoisted herself up onto Sarielle and then tapped her side. “Let’s do this.”
Sarielle took off, pulling them straight up into the crystal-clear blue sky. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining. Not a cloud to be seen in any direction. And before them spread the entirety of Malysa’s armies.
For the first time, Cyrene could see the true expanse of it. Byern’s forces laid out like toy soldiers in a row. But also Carhara’s army and Mastira’s army and Harthrow’s army. Though Mastira and Harthrow were as likely to fight each other as Cyrene’s army. Unless they had rallied behind ridding themselves of Kell.
Worse was the legion of blood-magic soldiers standing behind the first line of defense. Then, the Indres behind them, ready to tear into her soldiers. Cyrene could even see the spatter of Guild working with the Braj assassins. Dangerous and deadly.
But no Voldere.
No Nokkin.
No Malysa.
Yet.
Cyrene bit her lip and then found her center once more. They were much more evenly matched now. Her army no longer looked like the small knot of Network members that she had walked out of the Sand Plains with. Byern might have the biggest army by far, but she had Eleysia, Tiek, and Aurum. Plus, the Network members, Leifs from Eldora, Tyghan water seekers, her own contingent of Guild, and the hundreds of magic users who had come from all over Emporia.
A true world war. A war to end all wars.
Terrifying in its magnitude.
And Cyrene was about to lead them.
Sarielle swooped in low before her army, and a cheer went up in her honor. Cyrene had released the glow on her body, so she shone like the sun up on her dragon in the sky.
A beacon.
And, as Sarielle veered toward the awaiting forces, her army charged.
57
The Bond
“Now, Sarielle,” Cyrene screamed over the chaos of the battle.
Her dragon let loose the burning flames from her jaw.
Rita had told her that the soldiers of Kael’s army had been outfitted in flame-resistant material. Cyrene had tested it out the last week since her army arrived to see how they reacted to fire after Rita explained about the new material. Which was why she had waited to use Sarielle. She’d wanted to know their weaknesses. Assess what would do the most damage.
Red, orange, and blue flame, the material could handle. But the hottest of hot fire—white flame—burned them straight through.
It was why she had had Sarielle save her flames. Not to waste them on something that would cause more chaos than real destruction. And she had done it. Sinking deep into her own well of magic until all that remained was white fire. So hot that Cyrene and Avoca still felt the effects of the fire through their shields.
<
br /> There, Sarielle said in relief. See them stop the attack now.
Cyrene looked down and saw that a full streak of flames had cut straight through the ranks, giving her army a nearly direct path to the blood-magic users.
To her right, Halcyon had done the same. Though only cut through about half as far. Cyrene would have to leave it to her generals to complete the rest.
“Let’s keep moving,” Cyrene said.
Sarielle swept over the rest of the army, past the nicest parts of Byern where Cyrene had grown up, and to the castle itself. She pulled in tight to the ground and landed safely inside the front gates of the Nit Decus castle.
Cyrene slid off of Sarielle’s back and stared up at the castle. The one that always drew her back to it. The one she always came to on the spiritual plane. No matter how much it had changed in her heart…it still felt like home.
Avoca dropped down to her side, and soon, Dean and Ceis’f were there as well.
Be safe, soul sister, Sarielle told her. We will continue to harass the army and monitor for Voldere.
“Thank you. I’ll tug on the bond if we need you,” Cyrene said. She pulled her gaze from Sarielle as she disappeared into the skies. “This ends where it all began.”
“Fitting,” Dean said.
The place was a ghost town. Women, children, and the elderly must have gotten out and been taken somewhere else for protection. She was glad. Her quarrel was not with the innocent. But it was dangerously quiet. Not even a group of guards to take down. The entrance was all but wide open.
As if they wanted her here.
And then Cyrene felt it.
The bond.
It had been so long that it was jolting to feel Kael’s presence once more. To know exactly where he was. As if he wanted her to find him.
“I know where Kael is,” she told them. “He’s released his hold on the bond.”
“He wants you to find him,” Dean said.
She nodded. “Yes. He knows that it’s time.” Then, Cyrene turned her attention to the other two. “Avoca, Ceis’f, you know what you’re to do.”
They nodded and loped off toward the back of the castle with nothing but a tug on the bond for comfort. They had barely disappeared when Cyrene heard Avoca scream.
She and Dean raced toward where they had run off to…and found them facing off with two Voldere. Avoca and Ceis’f were fending them off together.
“Creator,” Dean breathed.
She watched him take in the monster as she had done.
The incredible height and thick, leathery skin. Those blood-red eyes and cunning intelligence. How it seemed that Malysa had bred her dragon with a Nokkin. And not just any Nokkin, but the first—Merrick.
Domina, one of the things spoke into her mind. We owe you a debt for what you did to our brother.
“I have a feeling that debt has to be paid in blood?” she asked, pulling her Hohl blade from her back.
Indeed, it spoke.
Then it launched itself toward her.
Even as the other screeched, Leave her for the dark goddess.
But that intelligence apparently didn’t compute. The lethal bloodlust took over, and it wanted to kill her.
Dean launched itself at the thing, getting in its path. Electricity sizzled in his hands, and then he shot a lightning bolt at the thing’s chest. It shuddered to a stop. Its body seeming to try to fight out what had just happened. Then it shuddered, straightened its spine, and turned to Dean.
You will pay for that.
Cyrene reached for her magic, but Dean yelled at her, “Go to your mission. Don’t waste it here.”
“You shouldn’t do this alone,” she spat, stepping toward the beast.
“It’s a distraction. We can handle this. Go.” He cut his gaze to her. “I’ll always find you.”
She smiled at the words he had spoken to her when they first met. A reminder. He was right. This was Malysa trying to wear her down again. She needed to use her magic later. She couldn’t tap out on the Voldere.
Cyrene frowned as she watched Dean, Avoca, and Ceis’f take on the Voldere. They were more prepared than she had been. She had never seen one fight, except each other. She didn’t know that her magic was effectively useless on it. They were capable of ending these things as long as they were smart.
As long as there were no more of them. She had no idea how many Malysa had created in those mountains. Enough.
She backtracked around the castle. The front entrance was still remarkably empty. She didn’t understand why. Even if Kael wanted to have their battle here, she thought that they would have kept a legion back to protect the castle.
She couldn’t think about it further. She needed to focus on her own task. At what she was about to have to do.
Her throat bobbed when she thought about it.
Because even though Kael Dremylon was a monster…
Even though he had killed…
She still felt a kinship to him.
One bound together in two thousand years of history. A curse that had transcended the generations. That had brought them all the way to this very moment.
She was fulfilling the Circadian Prophecy.
Now, she had to face Kael.
And kill him.
A step to win this war. She would do it to protect her people. But she wouldn’t enjoy it. She couldn’t. Not when she knew that she could have just as easily been in Kael’s position, working for the darkness. How easily she could have slipped over the edge and never come back. It was only with the help of her friends and sheer willpower that she had stayed on the path. Even if a crooked one.
Cyrene could sense where she was being led to before she arrived.
The path ended at a wrought iron gate. The trellises were lined with Byern climbing vines, the symbol of the Affiliate. The very pin that she had been given on the day of her Presenting. Cyrene unlatched the gate and came into a garden of concentric circles that ended in the center with a marble pavilion.
It was stunning. As beautiful as the night that Cyrene had had her Ring of Gardens ceremony. A way to literally bind her to the country, even to its detriment. Then she had stood before Edric, Kael, Kaliana, and Daufina. Her body practically quaking at being before all the royalty as she swore her loyalty, duty, and acceptance to Byern and them.
Viktor Dremylon had made this garden for solace. She knew now that the only solace he needed was for the blood on his hands. And the darkness in his heart.
The same darkness that swept through the opposite gate and began to make its way toward the marble pavilion.
A fitting place to meet Kael Dremylon.
He was resplendent. As gorgeous as the first day she had met him. With blue-gray eyes that seemed to change with his mood. And all-black fitted pants, jerkin, and cloak to match the darkness in his heart and the cloud that seemed to surround him.
Cyrene stepped forward, knowing that this was it. This was the end of the prophecy as she knew it. She met him civilly. Not even reaching for her magic. Just staring back at him evenly.
“Hello, Cyrene,” he said with a crooked, devious smile. “I have missed you.”
58
The Sword
“Hello, Kael.”
“It’s a fine day for this, is it not?”
Cyrene quirked an eyebrow. “As nice as can be imagined, I suppose. But did you really come here to discuss the weather?”
“And here I thought, you had a proclivity for it.”
“I do,” she said with a smile. “But I think I told your brother that. Not you.”
Kael’s smile wavered. She watched the darkness creep up around him at the mention of Edric. “You and I were always better matched.”
She took a step to the right. “Perhaps. But it doesn’t seem to matter anymore, does it? Edric is dead. You killed him. You are married to my sister. And I am engaged once more.”
She held up her engagement ring. The one that she knew he would recognize.
�
�To him?” Kael asked with a laugh. “Because he stole magic? Same old story.”
“He didn’t steal it. He earned it. There is a difference. And no, he didn’t need magic to earn my affection, Kael. As you should have known.” She shrugged and took another step. “But what does it matter now that you’re married? Unless you married Elea for nefarious purposes.”
“I had to keep her safe,” he growled.
“But why?”
“She was innocent.”
Cyrene snorted. “They’re all innocent, Kael. That never mattered before. You helped destroy the entire island of Eleysia. How many innocents did you kill then?”
He balled his hands into fists and narrowed his eyes. “Elea is different.”
“I don’t see how.”
“Then you do not know her.”
“She is my sister,” Cyrene said casually. “I would think I know my own sister.”
“She is strong where people believe her to be weak. Kind where people expect her to be cruel. She knows how to defuse situations. She is cunning and imaginative and beautiful,” he spat. “She is not like the other sheep who cower. She leads.”
Cyrene paused and took a closer look at Kael. And not just considering the words pouring from his mouth, but the way he’d said them. The way the darkness seemed to recede just slightly. The way the mention of her sister seemed to almost…calm him.
“Are you in love with her?” Cyrene whispered.
“Jealous?”
“No,” she said softly. “Curious. I had thought it all a game. But you speak of my sister as if she was precious to you.”
“She is,” he said easily. “It is why she has been in my circle since you abandoned court.”
“You mean, when I threw you into a wall and knocked you out,” she asked haughtily.
“If that is how you want to remember it.”
“Ah, alternative versions of history. Same old, same old.”
“Our armies are on the battlefield while we stand here, bantering. I thought that you would want to get down to it,” he said with a raised eyebrow.