“Colonel Foster was once in charge of the Laeton prison.”
Beside her, Azriel tensed. His collective time in the prison of Valenul’s capital was not long, but it left a lasting effect on him. And two hundred scars.
“When I visited Laeton for Council meetings,” Oren continued, “I positioned myself close to him to gather information about the prisoners so Alek and I could organize their rescue. Foster’s new station in Eastwood allows me to continue myfriendshipwith him and use it to our benefit.”
A beat of silence, then Thorin asked, “What you tell this…Foster?”
“That,” Oren said, spreading his arm to gesture to the table at large, “is for you all to decide.”
Azriel hated every second of the meeting with the war council. The moment he stepped through the chamber’s door, everything felt wrong. None of them should be there without Kall. No oneshould sit in his seat. More than anything, he could not stomach the notion of his best friend’s murderer walking free amongst them in a place Kall had tried to make a home.
Despite it all, he’d been grateful for Ariadne’s presence, and Madan’s insistence on them, along with Whelan, arriving early to position themselves accordingly. After some debate, Azriel acquiesced to Whelan taking Kall’s place. An empty chair directly beside him would have been worse—something Madan pointed out, knowing all too well the way Azriel struggled to cope with losing someone he loved. By filling the seat, the gaping hole in all their hearts felt a fraction less haunting.
What Azriel was most grateful for, however, was the moment they called an end to the meeting led primarily by Madan. His brother had stepped up during all the time he had been indisposed, and now Azriel could not think of how to repay him.
Perhaps he’d return his books and shelf.
By the end of the meeting, Azriel felt ready to tear into his own skin. Between Luce’s introduction as the Lycan Queen and Oren Theobald’s admission to having consorted with the enemy, he needed a more tangible goal.
“We have the allies,” he said with a nod to Luce in thanks. “And we have the advantage.” Another inclination of his head towards Oren. “Now…what are we to do with these?”
A silence fell across the table as everyone held their breath. No one wanted to be the first to suggest an attack, particularly not when the last had been so close to failure. Nonetheless, everyone knew in which direction they needed to go. There would be no avoiding what was to come.
Open war was inevitable.
“The supplies I’d gathered from the Keonis Tree,” Phulan said, “are gone. If we are to continue on the path of reconnection for all dhemons, then we must take Eastwood with our focus on Monsumbra.”
A murmur of agreement rose amongst the rest of the council, though a sick sensation slithered through Azriel’s stomach. He grimaced at the idea of once again attacking his late grandfather’s province. Too many memories of hate-fueled raids floated to the forefront of his mind unbidden.
“It is essential,” the mage added, noting the way he shifted in his chair. Then she turned her amethyst gaze to Ariadne. “You made a promise to your people that you would uncover the ritual. If we don’t lead the charge and claim the eastern edge of the Valley for the dhemons, they will scramble to get to the tree while it remains in enemy territory.”
Across from Phulan, Edira nodded. “We’re new to this table, but it’s clear to me that if the goal is to protect the dhemon clans and gain that territory, battle is necessary.”
“We accomplished the first task we set as your council,” Veron Knoll said. “Ehrun’s threat has been eliminated. Now we must look to the second problem.”
“Loren.” Ariadne stared at a space in the distance.
Azriel covered her hand with his and squeezed to bring her back to the present. “Sabharni,alhija.”
Shuttering her eyes against her own onslaught of memories, Ariadne let out a shuddering breath before squeezing back. The subtle reassurance that he hadn’t lost her to her shadows had him inhaling deep and returning his focus to those at the table.
“We prepare for Monsumbra, then.” Azriel turned his attention to Oren. “I want the vampires believing we’re still in the west, where Loren last saw us. While he’s distracted in Waer, we’ll move in on Eastwood. Getting to the Keonis Tree before Noxidium is paramount.”
“Until then,” Madan chimed in before anyone could relax, “every soldier at our disposal should be training in regular shifts.”
Quiet followed this. Azriel hated the cause of it. Prior to their search for the tomb, it had been Kall who kept the training regimens in line while Whelan trained the aerial cavalry and Madan tookcharge of preparations.
It was Liulund who broke the uncomfortable silence. “Who will train the soldiers?”
Azriel swallowed hard and glared at the map before him. It never should have come to this. Kall should still be with them, training their people for what lay ahead. Instead, they were faced with a gaping hole in their plans. As if it weren’t bad enough that such a pit already existed in their hearts.
His second thought drifted to Gavrhil. The patient, logical dhemon had been a close friend who helped as Kall’s second. After learning of his passing alongside his bondheart, Azriel was at a loss.
They needed Whelan in the skies, continuing to train dragons and work with those who were able to fly into battle. Madan had too much on his plate keeping everything running smoothly, and with his missing hand, he’d have a difficult time keeping dhemons in line what with their socially-ingrained aversion to disabilities. If any of the newcomers would be willing to listen to a vampire at all.
Then the image of another dhemon, a long braid running down the middle of her head, who’d kept him on his toes throughout his time in Algorath, swam to the forefront of his mind. Azriel’s chest throbbed. Sasja had saved his life…then left with Ehrun and told him of their plans, ultimately getting Kall killed. She would have been a prime candidate for the position had she stayed. Had she not been at fault.
“What about Lhuka?” Ariadne asked after likely going through a similar web of emotions and thoughts.
