“And everyone else?” He inquired.
“Kiora, is a Sparrow Archer and controls airflow. Iver, well, we are still figuring him out.” Not exactly a lie, but I certainly was skirting the truth there. “Kole and Eislyn do not conjure, and you already know Soren.”
Gregory’s brows pulled together, and he looked at Kole and Eislyn. “You are not conjurors?”
“Doesn’t mean we aren’t dangerous,” Kole grumbled, not enjoying being singled out in a way that made him seem less than the rest of us.
Iver snorted. “Alright,dangerous.”
“Shut up, Iver.” Kiora sent an elbow into his side, which he caught, wrapping a hand around her arm and pulling her into him.
“Now, now, little Sparrow. No need to pretend to not like me in an attempt to get closer. You should know, when the condition we find ourselves in is more amicable, I’ll let you get as close as you like.” He was completely unbothered by the entire situation we found ourselves in. That alertness and calculated gaze from before seemed to have vanished. However, I did not miss how that move placed him between her and Gregory. Was he actually trying to shield her?
“Now is not the time,” Kole snapped, anger rolling off him in waves directed at Iver, though his eyes remained trained on Gregory, searching for any sign of threat from the guard.
“Ugh. I hate you.” Kiora shoved herself away and out of Iver’s hold.
“Lie,” Gregory stated simply, though his attention pinned Kiora, who looked at a loss for words with a face turning more into a tomato by the second.
“You can tell when someone tells a lie?” Iver viewed him with interest.
Gregory turned to him. Seconds ticked by until he finally nodded.
Iver chuckled, though said nothing more. Instead, his gaze wandered to Kiora, who seemed to wish to disappear. Clenching her jaw she refused to meet his eye.
I took a step forward, moving to Soren’s side. “There is a war that has broken out, and we hope to end it before more lives are lost. If you can decipher lies, then you know I speak the truth when I say I do not wish to control the people here. But, I do wish for my freedom and the freedom of the people who livehere. Non-conjurors do not deserve to be kept separated from the rest. Life does not have to be as dark as it has been in the Sidhe lands.”
Gregory viewed me, yet did not reply.
“Well, does she speak the truth?” Soren asked. And I wondered whether he truly wished for the guard to tell him. After everything, did the Dunes Clan leader harbor doubts my words were not true?
“She does,” Gregory answered, and pulled his sword from its sheath.
34
ERIK
The city smoldered, smoke licking at the edges of the Sidhe stronghold as my army continued in their slow retreat. I pulled back on the flames, not wanting to harm or destroy the homes of the citizens. That was not why we entered the city. The shouts of soldiers filled the air, a mix of barked orders and panicked cries. But what stopped me in my tracks wasn’t the clash of swords or the roar of battle. It was the people.
“Not this again,” I muttered under my breath.
Dozens of them swarmed from the narrow streets and alleys, a tide of untrained citizens. Their trembling hands gripped kitchen knives, farming tools, anything sharp enough to draw blood. Ash and tears stained their pale faces; trembling lips and wide eyes betrayed their terror. And yet, they advanced.
Fear permeated the air, a sickeningly sweet stench. I could see it in their darting eyes, hear it in the way their breaths hitched as they stepped forward. Terror lived in them,clawing at their insides, and yet something pushed them onward.
I raised my hand, summoning flames that danced along my fingertips. “Stop,” I commanded, my voice a growl that carried across the square.
They didn’t falter, as if I hadn’t spoken.
With a snap of my wrist, I sent a wave of fire spiraling toward them. It wasn’t meant to harm, only to scare. The heat singed their brows and forced them back a few steps. But even as they recoiled, they did not flee, and they moved forward again, their feet dragging as if against their will. Reeking of terror.
Something was wrong. My soldiers picked up on it as well, muttering amongst themselves while preparing to defend and fight.
I scanned the group of civilians, my attention catching on one who did not fit in with the rest.
At the back of the crowd, standing tall and unnervingly still, was a man cloaked in dark armor like a general. His immaculate attire seemed untouched by the surrounding chaos, and his expression was a chilling mask of indifference. He stared not at me or my soldiers, but at the trembling citizens, his unwavering gaze unrelenting.
Why wasn’t he focused on us, the supposed threat? Why would a warrior direct such intensity toward his own people?
