“It’s about even,” I concede. But if Maia were Idallia’s enemy, I know who I’d bet on—a small, lithe, incredibly powerful black-haired blur who hasn’t tapped into even a fraction of her strength and abilities.
“You beat me.”
I puff out my chest. “I am the best.”
Her reluctant laughter heals something deep inside me that broke as she hung lifeless from my talons during the frantic flight home.
“I heard you got the prisoners you wanted.” She reaches for her soup and lifts a spoonful in toast. If the face she makes after her first swallow is any indication, I might have to coerce her into eating the rest.
Exhaling heavily, I lean against the window frame. “I did, but Draywood is half gone. Twelve people are dead.”
Looking even more sick to her stomach, she lowers the bowl to her lap. “I’m so sorry, Bale.”
Nodding, I scrub a hand down my face, wishing I could scrub away the guilt. “It’s my fault.”
“How is it your fault?” Frowning, she eats again. At least she knows what’s good for her, even if she doesn’t like it.
“I’m sure someone tipped the Bloodwold vampires off to us being in Porthwood. And it turns out Rannigan himself was just over the border—probably at that stronghold not far into Hellwood Forest where a lot of his tunnels connect.” She nods, knowing the one I mean. We see its dark towers from the air when we fly along the border. “Raiders usually go out in smaller, more discreet groups, but I think Rannigan must’ve gotten wind of the Elite Wing being in Porthwood and sent everyone he had in the area out as a big show of force.” I pause. “Maybe even to try to eliminate us.”
Her too-thin face goes flat with shock. “That’s why there were so many of them?”
“There was ample time for the in-house sorcerers to coat them all in protective magic. The blood thieves must’ve gathered underground during the day to attack the second night. We should’ve gone to the border in secret. We shouldn’t have been so visible.” My mouth twists in disgust.
Her grip on her bowl turns her knuckles white. “How do you know Rannigan was there?”
“My spies hidden throughout Hellwood Forest spotted him traveling northeast toward Blackrock Keep after the raid. He was at the border when we arrived. He sanctioned the whole thing himself.”
Slowly, carefully, she lifts another spoonful to her mouth. “It didn’t work out for him.”
“No.” I sigh deeply. “But it didn’t work out for us, either.” And there’s no way a few vampires didn’t make it back over the border and into the tunnels again. They’ll have reported on the blood frenzy, which means Rannigan will know what I have in the Elite Wing. Likely even who.
Idallia bites her lip, the soup once again forgotten. “We took back the people they captured. And we got your prisoners. We all made it back alive.”
“Eat,” I rumble more harshly than I intend, not willing to reason away my role in the destruction of my city.
She swallows another spoonful. “In the bigger picture, I don’t think it’s as much of a failure as you think. We killed a lot of blood traffickers. It’ll take Rannigan a long time to build up that much of a force again.”
“And I won’t let him.”
She cocks her head, her expression sharpening. “Is it finally war, then?”
“It might be,” I acknowledge. “I still want to see what happens at the upcoming Council, but even if I can force a tied vote, I don’t have high hopes.”
“For Rannigan or for Cealastra?” she asks warily.
I chuckle without humor. “Both.”
She shivers and looks at her birds, worry creasing her brow. If magic dies, a phoenix can too.
Swallowing, she turns back to me. “We’ll deal with whatever comes next. We’ll figure it out, even if it means eliminating one of the ruling bloodlines.”
Up until now, I’d hesitated to do just that out of respect for Cealastra, but if the Star of Ellonrift isn’t going to help maintain peace and balance between the kingdoms—the very role of the Council she guided us to establish—then I’ll do it.
“We?” I ask roughly.
Her gaze drops to her soup. “You.”
Suddenly overheated, I welcome the breeze at my back. I like the idea of we too much, but I can’t tell her why. Or how.
