“In the last war her motives were kept secret.” Barrett drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair. “She didn’t much care how the war was run, so long as she won. She allowed her general control of the armies.”
“She won’t this time?” my father asked.
“He died,” Barrett deadpanned. “Your daughter killed him.”
“Victious,” I breathed, swallowed by the memory of the rogue Engrossians attacking us on the journey to the Undertaking. Of Tolek’s blood staining my cheeks, like sliding a knife between my ribs.
As if sensing my discomfort, Tol stepped to my shoulder. Closing his notebook and setting it on the table, he brushed his arm against mine—a simple assurance that he was here.
“Who will lead her armies now?” Tol asked.
Barrett shook his head, but it was Dax who answered. “She never appointed anyone.” His pale cheeks flushed. “I was a lieutenant below Victious. After he died, Kakias…she announced wanting to lead herself.”
“Why?” I asked, ignoring how high-ranking the prince’s consort had revealed himself to be. Danya moved pins around the map, her pen scraping satisfyingly throughVictious.
Barrett shrugged. “Do not be fooled that she’ll actually fight. She likely doesn’t want to share her strategy with anyone else.”Share what she’s actually after, his pointed stare said. “It would be unwise to underestimate her.”
War was a game—a bloody, brutal one but a game like any other. Each side was driven by pride, a desire to conquer or protect, a desperation to survive, but those motivations didn’t plant themselves. Even the most shadowed, twisted wants of a person’s heart must be tended for roots to sprout.
“What does your mother fear more than anything, Prince?”
He considered. If I wanted to beat Kakias, I had to fully encompass her. Because she was more than any warlord vying for power, she was shaped by complexities. They’d presented their edges in the volcano, but a heart beat in the center, I was sure of it.
“Loss, I’d say.” Barrett finally swallowed, looking down at his hands. His words echoed what Dax had implied during the raid. The queen was afraid of losing what she cared about. “My mother had a difficult childhood. Being the sole heir to her father’s throne and power made her a target for predators, and it…she was left with scars.” I opened my mouth to inquire what he meant, but Barrett quickly continued, “She’s afraid of losing anything. It’s why she allows so few in.”Including me, he didn’t add, but it weighed the downturn of his lips.
I didn’t know how that connected to her current motives, given that she was guaranteeing there would be loss on both sides, but I didn’t push Barrett further. I briefly wondered if he was regretting his place here, but he lifted his chin, an unremorseful glint in his eye. Dax grasped his hand atop the table, and the two Engrossians were silent.
“Until we have a response from the chancellors, there isn’t much planning that can be done. Danya is right; we scheme—we don’t rely on numbers. We plan as if this war will be fought with only Mystique armies.” I planted my hands on the table, leaning forward. “Because there is not a future in which we fall prey to whatever Kakias has planned.”
I dismissed the meeting. Malakai had not spoken a word the entire time, and when we finally locked eyes as he exited the room, my heart crumpled in my chest, a piece stretching out to him. I slammeda rope around it, tugging it back where it belonged. He would have no more of me, nor I of him, despite the sadness that sank like a rock in my stomach.
My body and mind were being stretched. Spirits, my very soul was. An impossible mountain of pressing needs demanding my attention, and I did not know how to solve any of them.
I had spent every spare moment researching Damien’s prophecy. Angelcurses and things once lost. Annellius and sacrifices of strong warriors. Rina had come to me with information on a number of suspicious curses, but nothing sounded like what Damien spoke of.
The shade of heart…seek the seven…blood of fate, spilled in sacrifice…
But even as I sat here now, that second pulse in my body thrummed, and I was certain it was connected. That was the Angelblood alive in my veins, but I couldn’t figure out how I was supposed to wield it. Was it a weapon or a threat? A sin or a savior?
Recently, I’d been searching for patterns among the seven clans that could be hiding similar tasks or demonstrate what seven items I needed to unite. Nothing stood out.
Threads, that was what I had. A tangled mess of clues and no indication of which ends belonged together. They were pointing toward something, though.
It wasn’t the first prophecy the Angel had given me, but the stakes were higher now. Not only did I riskfollowing the last’s lost fightshould I fail, but Mystiques were relying on me, and my future as Revered was being challenged. Alliances were being withheld. I rubbed my hand over my eyes. Spirits, I needed to sleep for four days.
“Tired?” The chair beside mine scraped back.
“You can tell?” I opened one eye to see only Barrett and I were left.
“You look exactly how I felt every day before leaving the Engrossian Valley Palace. I’d been staying up nights to prowl through my mother’s plans. Barely slept until I got here.”
“You seem to have recovered nicely.” His cheeks were still hollow, but he no longer looked ill, instead naturally defined.
“I feel safe here,” the prince admitted, toying with the sigil ringon his index finger. I watched it twirl, and the second pulse in me quickened, my own fingers fidgeting.
“I’m glad.” I smiled weakly at him, but his face fell. Full lips almost set in a pout.
“I have to ask…”
