With a start, I realized everyone had been waiting for me to speak for an uncomfortably long time. My hands curled into fists reflexively, and I forced them to relax, resisting the urge to brush away the gathering sweat beneath my leathers.
“We have a common enemy,” I began, louder than I’d intended. My voice echoed, corralled by the dome and thrown back again. I winced and caught Elkona smirking in a way that made the scars trailing along her face twist. She was enjoying this.
My discomfort. My inevitable failure.
Res recognized it too, the bond thrumming with annoyance. My jaw set, my nostrils flaring. Did she think this was a game? Our lives, our families’ lives, the very survival of our kingdoms were at stake, and she found this amusing?
I straightened. Holding out my left hand before me, I removed the fingerless glove, sparing a brief thought for the prince who’d given it to me, and held up my scarred hand.
“I got these scars pulling Estrel out of a burning rookery.” This time, my voice came steady and controlled, even as my mentor’s absence yawned dark and gaping inside me. “She’d gone in to try and save my mother, who in turn had been trying to save the crow eggs. She failed.
“That day, my mother died, countless numbers of my people were murdered and irreparably scarred, and our way of life was reduced to ashes.” I lowered my hand but left my glove off. As I spoke, I let my gaze rest on each and every face, letting them see the pain.
“Then I found a crow egg in the blackened remains of a rookery.” I stepped aside, letting the circle get their first unimpeded view of Res. He rose taller, the sunlight setting the iridescent sheen beneath his dark feathers aglow.
“With Resyries, we have a chance to save our people. Razel will not stop until every citizen in every kingdom is hers. She will continue to kill and burn and tear families apart. She has already destroyed kingdoms, but she will keep destroying until every ounce of fight, of hope, of life that survived is ground into dust.”
At this, I looked first at Samra and then Elkona. Despite their kingdoms being conquered, they kept fighting. But Razel would crush them too in the end.
“Rhodaire is not strong enough to stop her alone.” I lifted my gaze to the king and queen. “Trendell is not strong enough to stop her alone. What remains of those fighting in Jindae and the Ambrielscannot stop her alone.”
Res’s shoulders lifted as his wings spread just the slightest, making his already impressive size look all the larger.
“Together, we have the power to end Illucia’s reign. Alone, we’ll fail.” My words echoed through the cavernous room.
Then, “That felt almost like a threat.” It was Elkona, risen from her cushion to address the gathering. A defense leapt to my lips, but I swallowed it. The look on her face—I knew it well. I’d seen it a hundred times in Illucia. She was just trying to bait me, to undermine my power. As Trendellan court custom bid, I relinquished my place and retook my seat. Kiva squeezed my arm.
“The princess makes a fine point,” Elkona continued, her voice a low rasp. She wore a soldier’s uniform of green and gold, the metal lightweight Alorr. It clung to her wiry frame like supple leather, the joints left free for easy movement. “Alone, none of us can defeat Illucia. What remains of my rebel forces is thin, Korovi is isolated as ever, and the Ambriels are half-enamored by their masters.”
Beside her, Samra prickled.
Elkona didn’t seem to care. “But what I do not understand is why I should ally my forces with the very people who left them to die. People who even now court the enemy.” Her eyes flashed to me.
My heart sank. I’d known Ericen would come up eventually, but I hadn’t expected it to sound so vicious when it did.
Elkona looked to the king and queen. “Trendell has a long history of avoiding war. It has for ages been a neutral kingdom, and I respect that, even if I do not agree with it. You offered my people aid when they needed it and have since harbored us despite Illucia’s looming threat.”
Her gaze swung around to me, alight with a dark fire. “But what did Rhodaire do? You turned your backs on us.”
I flinched.
“With all your power, all your wealth, all yourmagic, you stood aside and let us die. Let us burn. Why should we not do the same to you?” She had eyes only for me as she spoke. “Tell me why I should ally my people with leaders that dishonorable.”
It was the same thing Samra had said to me back in Illucia under the guise of Diah, and the answer I’d given had been very similar to what I’d said now. Without each other, we would fall.
Elkona was suggesting that if they banded together, even without Rhodaire, they could survive.
She was suggesting they leave us to our fate.
My mouth turned dry. Without Rhodaire, they would die. They didn’t have the numbers. The Illucian army was expertly trained from birth for one thing: war. They wouldn’t be defeated by a ragtag group of rebels and a peacetime army, no matter how skilled the Trendellan monks were.
I opened my mouth to tell Elkona this, but movement to her side made me pause. Samra had stood. With a final sharp look in my direction, Elkona retook her seat.
Nervous energy rippled along my skin. I stared at Samra, unable to force the shock from my expression. She didn’t meet my gaze.
“Rhodaire’s failure cost countless lives,” she began, and my hope tumbled, disappearing into a familiar void inside me. “While they hid, families were torn apart, cities burned, and children stolen to serve a foreign queen. Our calls for aid went unanswered. No one came.”
Each word struck me deeper than the last. The despair Rhodaire had experienced had been felt a hundredfold in the Ambriels and a hundred more in Jindae. What I had lost, so many others had too, and so much more.
