“Go, Lex,” Sol commanded, rising from the ground once more and moving to defend Leal, who was savagely throwing daggers at whoever came nearest the unAwakened cadets.
Where did she get so many knives from?
After throwing her last, Leal launched herself at the corpses, blasting Air Magic in nearby Mage’s faces to momentarily distract them before wrenching her now bloody blades free and scampering away once more.
Oh. That would be how.
“Go!” Sol shouted again. “Ride to Rohak. Tell—tell him that Vespera has fallen,” she bit out, her eyes growing glassy.
“It’s not too late, Sol,” I said, neatly dodging an incoming vine, intent to wrap itself around my neck.
She shook her head as she grasped Thandi’s dark hand, pulling him toward Leal.
“It is, Lex. This is to be our final stand. But it is not your fate. Go, warn them of what is coming. Fight well, Lex.”
I sputtered, sword falling to my side. “I cannot let you just . . . sacrifice yourself like this, Sol!”
The sounds of battle swelled and ballooned, the screams of the dying and the roar of magic in the air nearly drowning her next words.
She smiled sadly at me before hardening her features once more. “Not all of us were meant to make it out of this alive. Victory in death, Lex. And I plan to fucking die well.”
Chapter One Hundred Two
Rohak
The hooves of our horses pounded over still-frozen earth, horses’ whinnies and the jangling of leather saddles the only sounds as we rode. No one spoke; no one barely breathed as over half of the Mage Army in Vespera followed me toward the hills south of Alvor.
Torin is here; he is safe. Hehasto be.
Concern tumbled in my gut, acid coating the back of my throat as I thought about the alternative. It was one of the reasons why I’d commanded Faylinn to stay in Vespera. I grimaced at the memory, knowing if—when—I survived this battle, I’d have hell to pay.
At least she’ll be safe.
I couldn’t focus on both protecting her and doing my job; one thing had to give, and we both knew, deep down, that there was no way I could relinquish this duty to someone else.
It was me, or it was no one.
Sweat beaded on my brow and stuck my tunic to my back as we rode, the sun nearly reaching its zenith.
The flat plains of southern Deucena gave way to undulating ground and fields of wildflowers the further north we rode. Eventually, the city of Alvor was nearly visible on the horizon—still just a speck in the distance, but visible in the clear day.
Smoke rose in lazy tendrils, nearly concealing themselves as fog, and I pulled Balios’ reins quickly, pulling him—and the rest of the army—to an abrupt halt.
“Halt!” I called, throwing my palm into the air, instantly commanding eachMage, Vessel, and beast. Whinnies of surprise and feverish calls of “whoa!” accompanied my shout, but my gaze was pulled to the hills and sparse trees that dominated this part of Deucena.
“Torin!” I called, voice pitching weirdly with emotion. “Torin, if you’re here?—”
I was cut off as men and women flooded from the tree line and appeared from between rolling hills. They were haggard and tired, but stoically prepared as if they hadn’t slept all night, readying themselves for Solace’s eventual arrival.
“Rohak!” My head spun to the left as I watched the godling run down a hill, his pace never slowing as he neared Balios. I rapidly dismounted before extending an arm to Torin, my expression matching his grim face.
“Torin,” I said once he was within touching distance, grabbing his forearm as he clutched mine. The Lord of Iluul looked exhausted—black circles extended far beneath his eyes, normally brown skin pale. Though, despite it all, his honey eyes held a savagery that I knew was reflected deep within my own.
“Come to help us rid the world of that bitch?” he asked, eyes flashing dangerously.
I laughed, the tension easing slightly as I gave a hand command to my army, instructing them to dismount and spread out within the hills and trees.
“Her death cannot come soon enough,” I said.
