Revelie took a step forward, forcing her back against someone very large and very sturdy. Before Emillie knew what was happening, a new set of blue arms wrapped around her, hoisting her feet from the ground. She writhed in the dhemon’s grasp, her heart shattering as the distance grew between her and the swarm of people now creating a wall around Luce.
“Keep her out of here,” Revelie called. “I will come find her when I can.”
Betrayal had never stung quite so much as the moment her best friend turned and let Emillie be hauled out of that medic tent by a dhemon. She cried and kicked and flailed, all to no avail, as they exited out into the cold.
“Sabharni,” the dhemon said, though the word meant nothing to Emillie.
Snow fell all around her on winds that whistled by. The snowstorm had turned to a blizzard in the time since they had begun the battle, and now Emillie saw it as nothing but an omen of death. Destruction. The chaos of the weather only made her more desperate to return to Luce’s side.
Still, the dhemon did not release her. In fact, the man almost cradled her as he settled near a fire, his warm body providing more heat to her vampiric body than even the flames. No matter how hard she fought to free herself, it did not seem to disturb him.
It was not until Emillie had finally ceased her attempts to get away that his hold eased a fraction. She looked up at the dhemon, taking in the face of the man who held her at bay, and noted the Keon symbol on his cheek. It was not unlike the one Ehrun bore after the ritual in Eastwood, though the man himself appeared younger and far more at peace.
“Sabharni,” he repeated as she calmed, brushing a tear from her face. When he spoke again in the dhemon language, Emillie gaped at him, uncertain how to respond. Noticing her confusion, he sighed, frowned at the falling snow above them, then mustered, “Phulan help.”
Emillie sucked in a burning breath. “But what if she dies?”
The dhemon frowned, his red eyes scanning her face as he calculated her words. After a moment of mental translation, he said the two words she did not realize she needed to hear: “No die.”
Emillie’s mouth quivered and she did the one thing she had not done since the night Kyra had left her: she lay her head against the dhemon as he stroked her hair and cried.
Chapter 36
Finally.
The dragons hadfinallyentered the battle, and seeing them in action had Loren’s chest swelling with excitement. He had waited far too long to see what they were truly capable of with his own eyes. After all, once he put them down, he would have the opportunity to figure out where they came from and gain one for himself. Perhaps he merely needed to lay claim to one of the large beasts that flew over the armies. Such fierce beings would most certainly find the King of Valenul worthy of their power.
Until then, however, he needed to make the calls for his military force that would be most advantageous. The goal was to dispatch of as many of the dragons as possible, and the only way to do so was to bring them closer to the Hub. They stayed far too distant to make that work with the artillery he had mounted on the battlements overlooking the battlefield. There would be onlyone way to ensure he controlled the flow of the fight, and that was by making tactful decisions.
“Sound the retreat,” Loren commanded of the soldier nearest him. “I want every soldier back inside the Hub.”
Beside him, still refusing to watch the battle, Camilla Dodd scoffed, then leered at him through the snow. Despite her shivering, she spoke with a clear, strong voice. “Are you frightened,Your Majesty?”
Heat flushed Loren’s cheeks, and he curled his fingers into fists. “Retreat does not mean one is scared, you witless bitch.”
“Hmph.” Camilla rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth quirking. “Running away from one’s problems—in this case, a cavalry of fire-breathing beasts—is often associated with a deep-seated fear and desire to save your own reputation.”
“The only reputation that will need saving,” Loren snapped, “is yours when I am through with you.”
She stuck her lower lip out in a false pout that was aggravatingly attractive despite his fury at her. “You cannot risk ruining the visage of your future Queen.”
Loren scrunched his face in disgust. “My Queen is Ariadne.”
“YourQueen,” Camilla hissed, dropping the innocent look for one far more aggressive, “hates the very air you breathe. If you survive the night, you have but one option in order to keep the Lords on your side:me.”
The horn blasted from the top of one of the wall’s towers, two long notes that echoed across the field. Calls of retreat rose up from the soldiers below, and the crimson furthest back turned to make their way to the Hub. As Loren suspected, their enemy followed.
And as he planned, the dragons moved in as well.
“Come, Miss Dodd,” Loren said and held out his arm. “It is time for me to prepare for battle and for you to prepare to ascendto the throne—if what you say is true and if my men fail to bring me back my wife alive.”
Camilla barked a harsh laugh and shouldered past him without a word, but Loren caught her arm in a tight grip and dragged her back to him. She glared, but did not spit in his face as she had so brazenly before Nikolai. So the bitchcouldlearn. Good. Perhaps she would make a fine Queen after all.
“Your father is likely dead because of them when they defeated my army in Monsumbra,” Loren snarled at her. “Your mother would be no more than some horn-head’s whore as a result. I suggest you tame that tongue of yours and learn your place.”
At least she had the good sense to pale in response to such a declaration. Of course, Loren could not know for certain the outcome of the Lord Governor of Eastwood or his wife, but he could assume. Dhemons were nothing but monsters with no sense of moral right or wrong. They would have done precisely what Loren claimed.
“Ifmy parents are dead,” Camilla said with as much venomous sweetness to her tone as she could muster, “then your precious Court will find me to be the last of a legacy. You will have no choice but to marry me.”
