25
Ablood moon rises the night before war begins. Incorruptible’s light shines crimson across the mountains of my kingdom and all the way across Erawind. I find Baelen outside, alone on one of the balconies, studying the sky, his sword at his side. His armor and mine wait in our room. Everyone else has left for the border except the gargoyles and the Phoenix who will guard the springs. All of the children and the elderly have been evacuated to Mount Denrock, the safest mountain and furthest from the battle.
Baelen and I will travel when the moon is at its highest to join the army on the border. We will arrive before daybreak when the battle will begin. We slept most of the day, curled up against each other, knowing that in the final hours before war, we will not be able to sleep at all.
I take his hand, “Promise me, Baelen.”
He meets my eyes, his own a blazing green.
“Promise me you will be alive at the end of this battle.”
He crushes me up against him, kissing me hard, but he makes no promises, leading me silently back to our room where we help each other into our armor.
Baelen dresses in armor that belongs to the House of Rath: armor that has no weaknesses, that nothing less than sorcery can pierce. That is what I am afraid of today: the five sorcerers we will face, including Grayson. Baelen’s storm power will be equal to their power, but he is not invincible like I am. When we are done dressing, every inch of our bodies is protected: Baelen is in finely molded metal plates decorated in red and black markings; I wear my suit of shimmering Elyria web overlaid with golden segments.
After Baelen hands me my sword, my daggers, my bow and arrows, I click Cassian’s bone lash onto my belt. I spent the last two days practicing how to use it under Llion’s watchful eye to make sure I didn’t take my own head off.
Baelen and I stride to the nearest balcony, where he hooks an arm around my waist and takes control of the breeze. I could fly myself—I know how—but I can’t fly as fast as Baelen and I want him close to me right now. The air pressure increases before I step into his side. He supports my head with his big hand and places a lingering kiss on my lips before he lifts off.
I press my face against his chest as the sky rushes past us, lightning shrieking through me as he speeds up and across Erador. It’s not the same as Grayson’s instant transportation. Flying with Baelen brings all of my senses alive, calling to the storm inside me, lightning and thunder crackling and crashing through me, my storm power and my heartstones existing in harmony.
When the border appears, we fly over the gargoyle army amassed across every access point, up and down the mountains, half of the gargoyle force on the ground, the other half in the sky, thousands of gargoyles ready to defend our home. Baelen doesn’t slow as much as I expected, heading upward in an arc before we drop, slamming down with a massivecrackonto the top of the highest peak while dark storm clouds curl across the face of the blood moon and lightning streaks behind us, flooding the ground for miles in brilliant, crackling light.
I turn to face the elven army camped at the base of the cliff. We’ve landed right on the border. Right in front of their main force.
Thousands of elves are suddenly alert, heads upturned. They are massed on the gentle slope up to the base of the mountain. The mountains here are not as high as further inside Erador, only a thousand feet, so it’s easy to see the large banners flying above the elven army. They stand in neat squares, each one representing an elven House. There would be thirty of them if the House of Mercy were present. It makes me angry to see that the minor houses form the front line, including Jasper’s House of Grace, while the major houses take up the back rows and will only have to fight if the minors fall against the gargoyles.
I lean into Baelen as my gaze sweeps the elven army. “I could use my heartstone power and wipe them all out right now. I could stop this war.”
He answers me with a smile. “I could burn the earth they stand on and turn them to molten ash. But we won’t do either of those things. Because the elves are our people too.”
I can’t contain my anger. “Look how the Elven Command has put the minor Houses in greatest danger at the front.”
“They don’t care about our people, Marbella. They never did.”
My heart lifts when ten thousand gargoyles raise their voices, roaring a challenge into the night that booms across the distance. There are ten thousand more hidden in caverns all along the border, ready in case any elves get through the initial defenses.
A single answering form flies upward from the elven force.
Grayson lands on the cliff’s edge, keeping his distance from us, his olive green eyes shuttered, his emotions closed off. The storm light flickering around us highlights his pale hair and the golden runes across his chest. He still isn’t wearing a shirt and he is unarmed—not that he needs weapons.
In the distance, the sun threatens to rise. The daylight will bring death.
I say, “Turn back, Grayson. Take your army and go. Stop this war.”
“It’s too late for that, Marbella.”
I dare to close the gap, knowing that I’m the only one he can’t hurt. Even Baelen will have to keep his distance. “It’s never too late. We don’t have to be enemies.”
His response is a growl—a gargoyle growl—but he doesn’t hide its origins this time. “Today I will fight the gargoyles I am descended from. I will fight the elves who have betrayed their own people. I will fight the storm.” He acknowledges Baelen before he pinpoints me. “And I will fight the female I want.”
Baelen thrums beside me but he’s far too smart to slug Grayson in the face.
“But at the end of this day, I will get what I want.” Grayson spins toward the cliff, ready to descend to his army again.
Right before he is about to leap from the edge, I call out, “You didn’t kill your mother.”
His mask falters. He half-turns. “What?”
