“Come in,” he called. Morgan and Susan walked into the room, both dressed in Latian leathers.
“What an interesting choice in clothing today,” Rylo drawled, examining every curve the leathers accentuated on Morgan’s body. If only there were some odds that would result in him surviving the day. He’d peel the leather from her, revealing the alabaster glow of her skin.
“Avery made sure we had some protection before we left Latiah.” She pointed to a dagger at her side. From the gleam of its metal, Rylo knew it was iron. “I should have spent more time learning how to use these.”
Rylo shook his head. “You don’t need them.”
She let out a sad sigh. “My magic. Right.”
He didn’t know if she thought of how her magic could cause such devastation with just a few words. How she could rip the essence right out of a fae and leave them devastated in her wake. He’d known she had the potential to be powerful, that was why he chose to make her his, and yet, he didn’t know it would cost him so much.
“We’ve come to join you, King Rylo,” Susan said, her voice shaking as she finally spoke up. “We may be the only thing to stop the witches if Goldoth brought them to battle.”
The thought of Morgan fighting in this battle, even knowing her magical potential, left his skin clammy and his heart thumping in his chest. But he didn’t have a choice. That’s what she was here for, and he couldn’t abandon his folk to protect her now. Even if all his heart demanded him to do was wrap his arms around her and flee to some far flung cave in the mountains.
“Yes, of course.” His mouth felt too dry as Morgan moved closer to him. She reached out her hand to his and squeezed it.
“We can do this. Even without Latiah. Right? We’ll make it,” she said, her voice shaking.
He forced out a clipped nod. “We best meet Maglar and Mara.” He turned and looked at Susan, still twining Morgan’s hand in his. “I will have you stay near one of my generals during the talks.” He turned back to Morgan, and couldn’t stop himself from cupping her face in his hands, his thumbs rubbing the scars on her cheeks. “I want you beside me the entire time. I need to be able to fly with you if we need to fall back.”
Her face had a determination about it that he always admired in her, yet her hands shook as she grasped his forearms. “I won’t leave you. I’ll never leave you, Rylo.”
Rylo pressed his lips to hers, needing to feel her against him one last time before they faced the battle.
—-
Morgan
Rylo wrapped his arms around Morgan, lifting her close to his chest as he flew her out of his balcony and toward the far side of the river.
“Talk to me. Please,” she said, her words catching in her dry throat. The cold mist seemed to cling to her face, her hair, anything that it touched.
Rylo didn’t try to give her a false sense of security. He was direct, without twisting his words into half truths. “We’ll meet with Mara and Maglar. They will provide their grievances, and we will share ours. I don’t have much to go on, since I attacked the rulers of Goldoth and you stole their relic.”
Morgan tried to hide her chattering teeth. Whether it was from the biting cold of the mist, or her fear, she wasn’t sure. “Then what?”
“Most likely we won’t reach any sort of agreement. We’ll return to the Towers and prepare the warriors for battle.”
Overhead and behind them, other Nepheli warriors followed close, including a general with Susan in his arms.
Morgan let her head rest against Rylo’s collarbone, his hard armor kept her head at an odd angle. “It’s all very organized for a battle.”
“It’s the way of things, at least at the beginning of the war. Or should be.”
They began their descent toward a black tent placed just uphill from the Tower of Stars. Even from far away, the bald woman wearing a crown shone in the weak morning light. Like a diamond in the sun, her exposed head glittered. “Mara waits for us,” Rylo said.
Maglar came out of the tent, hate in his gaze as he locked eyes with Morgan. It sent a chill down her spine. “Maglar looks ready to flay me alive,” Morgan whispered.
“Don’t say such a thing, pet. Not today,” Rylo muttered against her ear.
Rylo circled overhead before landing next to his warriors. Even on the ground, his wings were wrapped close to her, his hand kept a vise-like grip on her waist.
Rylo’s voice was chillingly calm as he said, “So it’s come to this, Maglar? You chose to bring war to my own doorstep.”
“We only seek justice for the insolence of the Nepheli king and his witch,” Maglar spat as he pointed at Morgan, his hate-filled eyes boring into her. “That witch stole something sacred from us and killed or maimed hundreds of our slaves. King Rylo, your attack was unprovoked. We are well within our rights to demand justice for the insult brought upon our folk.”
Morgan caught a flicker of something in Rylo’s eyes as he said, “What is the cost you demand to prevent war between our nations?”
