The Domina: Ascension Series Book Five

by K. A. Linde

  “What are you going to do with that crown?” Orden demanded.

  “Crown herself, of course,” the Commander said easily. “We brought it back for you. How many more would you like?”

  Cyrene saw the unease permeate the room. She had assassins at her command. She could cull the world of the kingdoms and take them for herself. She could be the next Malysa.

  “I have no intention of wearing a crown. My people are the Doma. We are not in one place, but in many. I am subject to all of them.” She stepped to Orden and held the crown out. “It is for you and your lords to decide. But you will need it to bring Aurum into our fold before we march.”

  Orden took the crown reluctantly but with reverence. “I…I will do that.”

  “You don’t mean to crown yourself?” Brigette asked in disbelief.

  Cyrene slowly turned to her. The last dissenting voice in her council. “I’ve never desired a throne. I still don’t. What I want is equality for magical users. I want to stop Malysa before she finishes what she started all those years ago. That is my only goal.”

  Brigette seemed to weigh and judge her with new eyes. And that was just fine with Cyrene.

  “Any other questions?”

  “I have one,” Dean said from her side.

  She raised an eyebrow at him.

  “When do we march?”

  “As soon as everyone is ready,” she told them. “We’ll move everyone to Tenchala. I’m going to open a door into Aonia. Then it will be a ten-day march to Byern where we’ll take on Malysa once and for all.”

  She met the eye of each and every one of her generals. Saw the knowledge of what they were finally going to be walking into. That they were prepared and ready. That they’d done everything that they could.

  And it was time.

  Finally time to end it all.

  44

  The Wedding

  Elea

  Elea wore white.

  She was swathed in layers of lace with seed pearl buttons trailing down the back of her long gown. The train was a work of art, held up by a half-dozen children for the occasion. Her dark hair had been pulled up into its own event with gold Byern climbing vines woven into the design. Her lips were the palest of pinks, eyes rimmed with kohl, and cheeks had just a hint of sparkle.

  Her hands trembled, no matter how much she’d tried to stop them.

  She had dreamed about her wedding day her entire life.

  Even joked with Cyrene about one day marrying the prince.

  She had never imagined it would come to this. To a king she loved and feared. A dress that had been sewn onto her body without her input. And guests waiting in a banquet hall, all wondering if he would kill her by the end of it as they stood to watch her walk down the aisle.

  She inhaled sharply as the musicians began the royal wedding tune. A tear slipped down her cheek. A few onlookers oohed and aahed at the gesture, thinking she was so overwhelmed with joy.

  But it was that this was happening under these circumstances.

  With a man who did not love her.

  A gorgeous man, clothed from head to toe in black. Cyrene’s sword strapped to his hip, as it had been since he returned. Those blue-gray eyes keenly watching her. Not with affection, but interest. Another checkbox for him to fill. Another person to bring closer into his fold…just in case he needed more power.

  She’d been playing a dangerous game from the start. And this was the bluff she had never anticipated.

  Kael took her hands when she finally reached him and drew her a step closer. “You look beautiful.”

  She flushed at the words. The ones she’d longed to hear. “You too.”

  He grinned. And it was boyish. The madness momentarily held back by the sacred ceremony.

  Words were spoken.

  Vows promised that she knew he would break.

  And rings exchanged that were nothing more than metal.

  She played her part. Held her fear and anguish at bay. He could never know how upset she was by the proceedings. It could only mean death sooner. Fenix’s words to him had been bad enough. He’d suspected her a bit more after that. That she was working against him. And it was only Rhea’s tip that Fenix had spoken to Kael about what had happened that had saved her cover. She’d have walked right into his questions if she hadn’t known. She hadn’t seen Rhea since then. Since she’d refused to leave the castle.

  She was foolish and naive enough to still think he could be saved.

  Even though she had seen all the signs to the contrary.

  “You may kiss the bride.”

  Elea turned her face up to Kael’s. He stared down at her, and it was all him. Completely him. A part of her relaxed when she saw the man within. The man that she was still fighting for, however lost he was. She had fallen so long ago. And maybe it was insane to keep hoping that he would be hers in truth, but she couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when he needed her most.

  Then his lips were pressed to hers as he claimed her as his bride.

  And all of her thoughts were forgotten.

  The crowd cheered for their union. And they broke apart, flushed and laughing. Then he took her hand, put it into the crook of his elbow, and walked her back down the aisle as man and wife.

  They just made it to the entranceway with guards waiting to escort them to the reception for a feast when a cloud of darkness appeared in the foyer.

  Kael drew her to an abrupt halt.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “It’s not me,” he told her. Gone was the boy underneath. The man who had married her vanished. In his place was the hardened murderer. The unholy host that occupied his body.

  She almost shrank from him…but knew that would make it worse. So, she squared her shoulders and waited for the worst.

  As the cloud dissipated, a woman appeared in the space where it had been.

  “Malysa,” Kael said, bowing slightly at the waist.

  Elea hastily followed. So, this was Malysa. She had heard of her. Kael had talked of her. But she had never seen this goddess of destruction. She looked a fright with long, wavy black hair and black eyes. Darkness spreading up past her elbows and disappearing into her midnight dress. Black veins extending across her chest as if it were slowly eating her alive.

  “Hello, General,” she said with a smile. “Congratulations on your happy nuptials.”

  He straightened to his considerable height. “Thank you, Goddess.”

  Malysa took a step toward Elea, took Elea’s chin in her hand, and moved her head side to side. “You do resemble her strongly. What a good choice.”

  “Thank…thank you,” Elea stammered.

  Malysa ignored her. “I bring you a wedding present.”

  “That is too kind,” Kael said.

  Malysa quirked a cruel smile. “Oh, I think it’s the best present you could have asked for.”

  She flicked her hand. The black cloud exploded again next to her.

  Elea waited on bated breath to see what present she could have possibly brought Kael. And, as the smoke cleared once more, Elea couldn’t help but gasp.

  The dowager queen, Kaliana, and her child, Alessia, stood in the once-empty space. Tears streaked down Kaliana’s face, and Alessia was screaming. Kaliana tried to soothe her, but nothing could work.

  “A gift of magic,” Malysa said with an evil smile. “If you’ll take it.”

  Elea just watched in horror as Kael could do nothing but accept.

  45

  The March

  Moving an army of this size took time. Cyrene would have loved to have woken up the next morning, opened the portal to Aonia, and taken the army through to the other side. But portal key wouldn’t stay open long, and they still had no real idea if Malysa could see their portal usage. So, it was safer to go through the solid gate in Tenchala then risk it.

  They had waited and gotten everything together, which included Orden leading the Aurumian army to their camp. Cyrene had met with the lords an
d been as charming as she could without wanting to strangle them. But they had agreed that they no longer wanted to be a pawn of Byern and would fight if she assured them that they would be free to rule themselves after the war ended.

  And, by the time they had all made it to Tenchala, two and a half weeks had passed, and they were walking into the heart of summer.

  “I still am not sure this is a good idea,” Gwynora said from her side as they strode through the camp on the Sand Plains.

  “You told me, Gwyn.”

  “We won’t have supply lines on the road from Aonia to Byern. They could cut us off, and we wouldn’t have any food.”

  “It’s a risk. But that’s why we sent the rest of the supply lines heavily guarded up the Keylani on the first day. You already had the supplies loaded. We will make do with what we have.”

  Gwynora nodded. “Okay, okay.” She pulled Cyrene to a stop. “Has Orden spoken to you?”

  Cyrene frowned. “Not about what you want to know.”

  “I think that he thinks I blame him for my grandmother’s death,” she whispered.

  “Do you?”

  “Of course not. I blame Malysa,” she said urgently. “Which is all the more reason to go after her now.”

  “Give him time. We saw it happen. He is still grieving her death.”

  “He’s like a brother to me, you know? I feel kin to him. Which means he’s my last family. I would like to reconcile before…”

  Cyrene knew what she meant. She clapped her hand on Gwynora’s shoulder. “Then do so. Because we leave at dawn.”

  Without a word, Gwynora left in search of Orden. While Cyrene continued on assessing the army, as she had the last two weeks. It wasn’t perfect. They hadn’t been training together long enough for it to be a seamless unit, but it worked, and that was what mattered.

  She tipped her head up at Jenstad from Tygh, who was practicing water magic with Alchia. Quidera silently watched them. She had given Cyrene a Hohl blade when she returned without Shadowbreaker. It didn’t have quite the same heft, but Cyrene was glad to have a blade again.

  She passed Lady Cauthorn yelling at someone about the extra healing supplies. Vera stood with the healing unit but broke away as Cyrene came near.

  “Are you ready?” she asked.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “I wish that I could do more.”

  Cyrene put her hand on Vera’s. “You have done enough.”

  “You seem so changed as the Domina. Have you been practicing with the diamond?”

  “I feel like I could work a lifetime and not know all that it can do. Do you have any more insight?”

  “I wish that I did. After we portaled to this world and couldn’t return, I was fearful that my magic would drag me away again. Away from my family. I knew that it had other powers. The ability to strengthen and eventually show me the strengths of my children. But, when Selma was old enough, I gave it to her as the symbol of our new court. For the Domina. Anything else she gleaned from it, she did not reveal to me. I think a part of me did not want to know.”

  Cyrene nodded and touched the diamond at her throat. She could tell that it strengthened her. Some of the magic she had done with it around her neck were things that might have tapped her out before. Ahlvie was proof of that.

  Cyrene continued through the rest of the camp, checking in with the groups as she went. Cal, Aubron, and Reeve were practicing archery. Dean and Darmian reunited and worked on last-minute sword drills. The Commander and Haeven were sparring to the jaw drops of the rest of the army.

  It was comforting in a way to see everyone together.

  But too soon, the sun dawned a new day.

  And Cyrene stood before the portal door. She took a deep breath, channeled her energy into the talisman, and opened up to Aonia. Sarielle and Halcyon flew in first to scout ahead. Then her army began to move out of the Sand Plains and into the northern mountains of Byern. Each general directed their portion through the gate and to their assigned areas. It was moving slow but steady. No major problems since they’d had so much time to prepare for this.

  Still, Cyrene was nervous.

  The coin had come from Malysa at one point. Every time they used it had some amount of risk. Though she hadn’t seen it any other time she had used it, this was a big jump. And she didn’t want to give away their position before she had to.

  Finally, the last of the supply line stepped through the portal. Cyrene took a step through the gate with a sigh and then released her hold on the coin.

  The armies were orderly. Everyone was in their proper place. Preparing to take the southern route to the capital.

  Avoca and Ceis’f were at the head of the Leif soldiers. Brigette was surrounded by Darmian, Brendt, and Joffrey before the Eleysian army. Quidera was standing with her husband with the Tyghan water soldiers mingled with Gwynora’s Network magical users. Orden was with the Aurumian army. The Commander and Haeven stood before the contingent of Guild.

  She turned her gaze toward Fen, which was directly in their path to Byern. She had hoped to try to persuade the Ancient Ones to join her now that they had seen the size of her army. Kaliana had been working on them and had hopefully persuaded them to join.

  A tug came from Sarielle.

  All clear.

  She smiled. “Good. Thank you. Circle back.”

  Dean appeared at her side with an Eleysian mount. He was also seated on one. It would be strange to ride after so long flying on Sarielle. But she needed to be seen. The army needed to know that she was there, ready to take on anything for them.

  She pulled herself up on the horse and strode toward the front of her army. Dean and Ahlvie rode at her back.

  She removed her Hohl blade from its sheath and held it aloft. “We march.”

  The armies fell into alignment as she rode to the front of the line. Cyrene knew the way and directed them through the thick growth that led to the main road.

  Gwynora trotted to her side, perfectly content on the steed. She started rattling off numbers and figures and strategies. Cyrene listened with half an ear as they continued forward.

  It was strange how much had changed since she first step foot in this forest. When she had believed she was saving Fen from wraiths. And it’d turned out to be a Nokkin. Now, she was coming through with an army.

  “What was that noise?” Cyrene said, putting her hand up to silence Gwynora.

  But it hardly did much.

  She had an army with her.

  Armies were not quiet. They were not stealthy. They were for one thing and one thing only—war.

  But she had sworn that she heard something in the forest.

  “Have the scouts returned?” Cyrene asked.

  And, just as Gwynora opened her mouth to answer, an arrow whizzed through the air toward her. At the last second, she managed to throw herself sideways off of her horse, but the arrow still grazed her arm.

  The call went up on all sides.

  “Ambush!”

  Cyrene threw up her shield just as arrows rained down around them. Still, she heard thunk, thunk, thunk as they landed where her shield didn’t cover. It cost too much energy to cover the entire army. It might not even be possible. Not alone.

  “Take cover,” she screamed.

  Gwynora vaulted back into her saddle. “Doma!” she cried. “Together, as one!”

  Then she looked to Cyrene with a nod, and they barreled into the woods and the ambush that they had not seen coming. Not even Sarielle and Halcyon.

  And she immediately saw why.

  They were camouflaged. Cyrene could hardly pinpoint their location with the clothing they were wearing. This was guerrilla warfare. Not honorable fighting, as they had prepared for. If she hadn’t been able to sense their magic, she might have missed them entirely.

  Cyrene barked out orders and used her blade to slice through her first victim. Her stomach clenched at the onslaught. But she didn’t falter. She couldn’t. What example would
that send? That she could ask others to kill for her, but she couldn’t put red in her ledger?

  With Dean and Ahlvie at her back, she fought her way through the lot.

  It was them or her in the trenches. She had only one goal in this fight. Live to fight another day. Her blade was not her only tool, but she missed the ease of Shadowbreaker fiercely. She was just glad to have the arsenal of Aleut at her disposal.

  She used her magic when necessary, but she was shocked with how equipped this group was. They were fast and efficient. It was only when Haeven stepped up close enough to her that she realized when she had seen that fierceness in the past. These were the Guild members trained by the Honorary. That was why Wara had been there. This was her recruiting efforts. Perhaps she should have let them burn that day…to save herself the trouble now. But the thought haunted her.

  “Cyrene!” Ahlvie cried, taking a cut to his leg and going down.

  She was there in an instant, blasting the attacker back with water.

  “Shift already,” she commanded him, hovering over his injury.

  “Not yet,” he growled.

  “Don’t die for it,” she told him.

  “We have a bigger problem than that.”

  She whirled around and saw a hooded figure appear out of the camouflage. The person withdrew a dark, wicked curved blade. The tainted and poisoned blade of a Braj.

  Cyrene drew herself up and faced the female assassin. “Wara, I presume.”

  The Braj lazily swung her blade but with an unmatched precision. “Hello, Domina. I have heard much about you.”

  “Well, my reputation does precede me.”

  “You’ve killed a lot of my kind.” Wara pointed the blade at Cyrene as a taunt. “I have killed many more of yours.”

  “And today, you kill me?” Cyrene guessed with a grin. “I’m afraid not.”

  Wara moved forward like lightning. Cyrene had fought many Braj. But this was the general of all Braj. She was the master of her craft. And it showed. She was a much better swordsman than Cyrene could ever hope to be. But that didn’t mean a damn thing when Cyrene had magic.