Yet that solace was short-lived. King Darius was now a concrete enemy, not just a man from myth and rumor. There was no denying that he was coming or what he wanted. There was no taking comfort in doubt, in the sliver of possibility that Darius wasn’t a threat like Morkai was, that his alliance with Norun had nothing to do with Khero.
That was the most terrifying part—Darius’ threat didn’t involve him alone. Half his force of five thousand men belonged to Norun. Furthermore, a legion of twelve thousand Norunian soldiers were already marching from the capital and would join Darius should Khero refuse to surrender. Meanwhile, Khero had only four thousand soldiers.
Seven devils, those odds were terrible.
There had been no mention of Darius’ naval fleet, but that was a matter for Vera, not Khero. Teryn was starting to suspect his brother was right. Larylis had posed a theory in a letter he’d sent back with Berol a few days ago. That the prisoner’s words had been a bluff meant to draw Vera’s attention toward a threat that would never come and leave Khero vulnerable.
Not that it mattered much. Even with their combined armies, they would still be outnumbered. Even if Vera supported the fight against Darius, Larylis couldn’t fully dismiss what the prisoner had said. It could have been a lesser misdirection—that the fleet was still coming, but not making landfall in southwest Vera. Which meant Larylis needed to keep some of his soldiers ready in the south.
There was hope in the alliance Cora was forging, but she’d been gone from Ridine for ten days now. It had been nine days since he’d received her letter about going to El’Ara.
Was she still there? Had they found the tear yet?
At least he had some additional intel. He’d been right about Mareleau’s letter to Larylis; she hadn’t been nearly as sparse with details as Cora had been. Larylis had relayed what her letter had included—that the Forest People’s camp had been outside Lake Sarrolin near the village of Brekan. And that they would begin their search for the tear on the western coast.
Teryn would have been livid that she’d divulged so much information during such tumultuous times if it hadn’t provided him such relief. Just knowing vaguely where Cora was had carved leagues of stress from his bones. Besides, he couldn’t give in to the fear that Berol’s letters could be intercepted. That would only lead to madness.
Sweat prickled his forehead as he continued his drill, his mind reeling to come up with countermeasures. Surrender was out of the question, and if Cora didn’t come home soon, he couldn’t count on Elvyn reinforcements.
No, the best scenario was to face Darius’ smaller force. And there was a chance for that. Darius’ letter wasn’t the only one he’d received today. A messenger had also arrived with a brief note from Lex.
It begins on the thirtieth day. Those who’ve been robbed will take back what they’ve lost.
That was all the note had said. It was so carefully yet cleverly worded, Teryn suspected Lily had penned it for her husband. Those two sentences told him everything he needed to know: the Norunian rebels would launch their rebellion on the thirtieth of this month—less than two weeks from now. They would fight to take back Haldor and Sparda, the two kingdoms Norun had conquered. The rebellion would wreak havoc on Norun and delay the progress of Darius’ reinforcements. The King of Syrus would be isolated with only his five thousand men.
With some additional men from Vera, they could be evenly matched.
But Teryn didn’t want even.
He wanted—needed—to win.
Dark thoughts clouded his mind, taking him back to Centerpointe Rock. To Morkai’s dishonorable actions during the meeting. How he’d signaled battle without giving them a chance to negotiate the terms for war. What he’d done made Teryn sick with rage.
Yet as he thrust his spear and imagined his faceless enemy on the other side, he didn’t feel nearly as sick when he considered doing something similar himself.
Darius’ threat was a matter of power, magic, and desperation.
Maybe only equal measures of power, magic, and desperation could lead to victory.
And Teryn had one idea that might allow him to catch Darius unawares. To end the battle before it had begun.
He wasn’t sure he could even do it.
It might damn him to the seven hells.
But if it saved Khero’s future, he’d risk the stain on his soul.
40
Cora found Teryn in the armory. The shuffling of his feet and the sound of his heavy breaths reached her ears just before she rounded the corner. He didn’t notice her approach. She kept her feet silent so as not to disturb his practice and leaned against the wall just past the threshold.
His pale hair was tied back, revealing a determined look on his face. He wore only trousers, his nightshirt draped over a rack of polearms. Sweat glistened over his taut muscles, a sight that wasn’t at all unpleasant. She studied the contraction of his abdomen as he pivoted and slashed, the bulge of his biceps as he thrusted. She’d seen him train with a sword and hunt with a spear, but she hadn’t watched him train quite like this—with focus and zeal and a deadly skill that was a bit terrifying yet…strangely erotic.
She folded her arms and leaned her head against the wall, her gaze sweeping over the length of him. Mother Goddess, she was lucky this man was hers. Not that she’d gotten a chance to enjoy her husband quite yet. They’d had their night of passion before their wedding, but they still hadn’t had a true wedding night. As she watched him move gracefully over the training floor, she realized just how unfair that was. Here Teryn was practicing for a battle they couldn’t avoid while she’d spent…however long she’d been gone establishing an alliance. They should have been wrapped in each other’s arms, enjoying the life of newlyweds, not facing war.
“Are you going to keep staring?” Teryn said, startling her. His gaze was fixed on his imaginary enemy as he sidestepped, then thrust. After a final slash and thrust, he angled his body to face her and planted the butt of his spear on the ground. A corner of his mouth lifted. “Or are you going to kiss me?”
A thrilling warmth ignited in her chest at the challenge in his eyes, the taunting in his voice. If he could still make her feel like that amidst everything that was going on, maybe there was hope for them yet. For them to enjoy some semblance of newlywed life.
