The pitch was sectioned off into four different areas: sparring, weapon and combat training, physical training—which included an obstacle course—and finally, magic-wielding.
“I’m pretty sure that Ser Aeron still holds the ‘greatest warrior in all of Ixora’ title, even after all of these years,” Daemon said with reverence. He had immense respect for Emerald’s Army Commander, especially after seeing the way Auraelia handled herself in training all those months ago. Ser Aeron didn’t treat her like a fragile flower; he seemed to treat her like any other warrior, which would come in handy in the coming days.
Xander began rattling off different observations he’d made, but his words faded into the background as the hairs on the back of Daemon’s neck stood on end, his shadows swirling, seeming to sense something he couldn’t.
“I take great offense to that statement, Prince Daemon. Shall we see how you fair against me in the ring?” The voice was warm and smoother than silk, but there was an underlying deadliness to it that Daemon recognized immediately.
Lady Iridessa.
Seeming to come to the same conclusion, Xander smirked, rolling his eyes as he shook his head and turned around. “Dessa, I wouldn’t enter the ring with you if both of your hands were tied behind your back and you were blindfolded. And that wasbeforeyou went through the Warrior Academy.”
A menacing smile tugged on her lips, her eyes sparkling with a mischief that reminded him of Auraelia. “It’sInara’s WarriorAcademy, and I didn’t ask you; I askedhim.” She tilted her head in Daemon’s direction, her grin growing as she raked her eyes down his frame.
“Don’t even think about it, Daemon. She doesn’t fight fair.”
Iridessa scoffed, her hand flying to her chest in feigned innocence. “I do, too.” When Xander raised his brows inchallenge, she narrowed her eyes. “It was one time, Xander. And long enough ago that you should have gotten over it by now.”
“Once was enough.”
Daemon’s gaze shifted between them, a singular brow arched as he attempted to follow their conversation.
Seeming to notice his confusion, Iridessa turned his way with an exasperated sigh. “When we were kids, Xander and I got into a…scuffle.”
“Scuffle? She hit me with a metal tray because I took the last chocolate croissant,” Xander deadpanned.
“Can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same,” Daemon replied with a laugh.
“Oh, fuck off.”
Iridessa snickered, then looped her arm through Daemon’s. “Come on, I was sent to retrieve you. Mother and Father are waiting.”
“When did this begin again?” Daemon asked, his eyes trained on the map Lord Arlo had rolled out over the tabletop. They’d been staring at the damned thing for at least an hour, trying to figure out the best course of action, and all that resulted was them talking in circles.
“Pearl’s forces have been steadily lining up at the border over the last day or so. We’d heard whispers of them gathering their troops to move out, which is when I sent you that missive.” Lady Aesira was sitting in the chair at the head of the table, her chin perched on threaded fingers as she, too, tried to make sense of their situation.
“We know that Davina won’t move until she does whatever fucking blood ritual bullshit she’s planning, and that’s still threedays away,” Xander said with an exaggerated wave of his hand, pacing the length of the room once more before returning to the table. “So why would Pearl be assembling their forcesnow?”
“That’s what we still don’t know.” Lord Arlo’s deep timbre rumbled through the room as he stood sentinel by his wife’s side, his hand resting reassuringly on her shoulder.
“What do you need from me?” Daemon asked.
“At this moment? I need you to get this information to Auraelia. But we may need assistance when the time comes. We’ve caught wind of their numbers, and though we are unmatched when it comes to combat, I’d still like to tip the odds in our favor.”
Daemon scanned the map and the tiny figurines that dotted its surface, each one representing fifty soldiers. From their information, the Court of Pearl’s forces seemed to be evenly matched in numbers to Opal’s. But even with that, there was no way for them to match the efficiency that Lady Aesira’s warriors fought with. Their accuracy was unmatched, and every movement was graceful, precise, and deadly.
Finally peeling his eyes from the lines of the map, Daemon met the hard gazes of the lord and lady of Opal. “I will send word to my Father and tell him to send half of the fleet here. They should be here in two days’ time.”
“Yourfather?” Lady Aesira seethed, her eyes wide as she clenched her jaw.
Daemon recoiled at the venom that laced her words. He’d briefly forgotten the relationship between the two courts and the women who led them. It was well known that Lady Aesira and the former Queen of Emerald had been close, so close that the Court of Opal sent its best warrior to train her children—a fact that Daemon was more grateful for than ever as the war drew closer.
“Lady Aesira, I know that my father is likely the last person you’d seek help from, but he wants to see Davina fall just as much as we do.”
“Oh? And what gave you that impression? Him signing away your life?”
Daemon blew out a breath. There was only one way that he could potentially change her mind to the point where she would accept his father’s help…he just hoped it would be enough. “He’s dying, Lady Aesira. Months ago, Davina orchestrated someone to poison my father in low doses over time.” Aesira’s eyes narrowed, but he continued. “Sometime before the Fall Solstice Ball, she presented him with the antidote and the conditions that came with it. He didn’t think. All he knew was that he didn’t want to die—didn’t want to leave my mother. Since then, he’s fallen ill again. Only it’s worse this time. He knows he may not live to see the end of this war, but he wants to help.”
The room fell silent, Daemon’s words hanging in the air like a swinging pendulum.
