“Why?” I shout, shoving him away.
Standing at the opposite side of the walkway, Val glares at me, breathing heavily, venom in his eyes like I’ve never seen.
“I’ve never known you to be a coward, Xandril. I would not have stood by your side all these years if I thought you were. Where has your fight gone?” His tail flicks back and forth, catching on a stray twig that escapes his notice.
“Hilduin wanted me to stay out of the trainings!”
“I don’t care about Hilduin or the rotted guard. What I care about is you bending the knee to those Iron generals after everything we’ve done. Everything we sacrificed to save Emerald, you’re going to carve it up for those bastards?”
The dam.
I knew it would be an unpopular proposal with the reach, but I never thought I’d have to fight Valenar for his support. He has been with me at every other step—planning a coup, claiming the throne, finding a bloodsworn bride, and at every step, the same truth has held.
“I’m trying to do what I think is right. I’m trying tosave the reach,” I growl, feet planted and braced for his next attack.
Val opens his mouth to respond and a shrill, heart-rending scream echoes through the bailey, freezing my blood in an instant.
“What was—” Val starts, but I’m already on the move.
Pushing past him, leaping down the stairs, I’m shedding my armor all before I can think. I race to the stables as fast as I can, praying I’m not too late.
I’m not the first one to respond, but most everyone is lingering outside of the stable, nervously looking on and collectively wincing when the ifrak lets out another pained bellow.
I hear her panting even as I push through the onlookers, and as I circle to the door of her stall, my worst fears are confirmed.
“Are you her bonded?” I ask one of the two demons standing outside the laboring beast’s stall.
“I’m the marshal. That’d be Visri,” he says, thumb pointing toward the other. “We were trying to help—calf’s breached, probably won’t make it—but she damn near skewered me. I told Visri to give her space, but…”
The marshal doesn’t have to finish the thought. Without intervention, it won’t be only the calf that we lose tonight. A soulbond with an ifrak is a special thing, and losing a bonded beast is a pain that dims the soul, one that no one should have to endure.
The devastation is shared among the three of us. The birth of a new ifrak is a rare and sacred thing. More than a mere tragedy, to lose either mother or calf—nevermind the nightmare scenario of losing themboth—would cast a dark cloud over the reach that I’m not sure it could recover from in its current state.
Beyond that, there has been enough loss this winter. Enough to mourn under my rule. I’m not going to let this go without a fight.
“What’s her name?” I ask, stepping into the space between Visri and the marshal, inching ever closer to the ifrak.
“Starcaller,” Visri answers in a sob.
Hearing her name, Starcaller stamps her feet, swinging her massive head to threaten us with her tusks. Visri has to retreat, his spine bent forward with grief.
“I need you two to fetch supplies,” I say, listing some plausible items before sending them on their way.
Or trying to.
Visri stays rooted in place, pale and sick-looking, but not willing to leave.
It’d be admirable if he wasn’t wasting time. I can’t focus on helping Starcaller if I’m also trying to make sure my stable groom isn’t impaled.
“I…I can’t,” he says. “She needs me.”
My hand lands on his shoulder with more force than I intend, but that works in my favor. “You have done what you can for her. Now let me.”
“But—”
“Starcaller is as much mine as she is yours. I will not fail her,” I promise.
The groom considers it for a moment, the choice to trust me in this moment is probably making his soul scream in protest.
