Collared and leashed to Iaoth’s commands was not where I wanted to be. Yet I found myself—once again—racing from the far side of Sivy to the nightly council meeting. The throng that I’d broken up hours earlier still lingered in the heart of the city, glaring from between market stalls as I fetched my horse.
Apparently no one enjoyed the idea of being marched to the front to die—even though they’d heard for years that soldiers in the holy war were generously rewarded in their next lives.
A white-robed priestess gripped the railing around the tree in the center of the square, shouting about the Goddess’s plan for the final push to exterminate evil from Keleti. The faithful gathered beneath her, peering up like she was the deity made flesh. I tipped my head to her as I swung into the saddle.
Her attention flicked back to me in subtle acknowledgement.Iaoth had me escorting and guarding the crown’s mouthpieces to quell the unrest. Centuries of support from the priestesses meant that it didn’t take much to soothe the flock, to convince them that the Goddess was on our side. We simply needed to trust Her timing.
“A Seer with ice-blue eyes now resides in the palace!” she called out. “Our Radiant Mother blesses her creations once again. Through Her divine messages, those called to serve in Her holy war will save us all.”
Goddess damn Iaoth.
My molars ached from how hard I clenched my jaw. That the Korona was waving Sylaira like a shiny weapon above a crowd too ready to cheerinfuriatedme. My mate was already a beacon at court. It was one thing to protect her from the nobles, but the general populace?
Of course my sister was punishing me in the cruelest, most vile way she knew how.
Not to mention the endless obligations grinding down every day. By the time I fell into bed in the evenings, all I could think about was burying myself between Sylaira’s thighs.
I should have taken my mate and run the moment I’d escaped Iaoth and Stadiel after the ball. Every instinct I possessed screamed to steal her away, to vanish into the night and damn the consequences. But there was nowhere safe for us in the Angel Realm. Not with the two zealots perched on their thrones, their hunger for power higher than peaks in the Skala Mountains themselves. As selfish as it was, I wanted more for Sylaira than a life spent hiding from hunters.
I wanted her on a stage, bathed in the light she chose, twirling.
So I stayed. Maelsar and I schemed in shadowed corners and hushed tones, piecing together a new path for the Angels.
One that might buy us a new future and give me the right to stand by her in it.
The city blurred by me as I mentally rehearsed what I needed to say to the other Herr and Kisst regarding our army’s future plans and my imminent departure after the trial by light.
I stalked the halls of Thalvireth after handing off my stallion at the stables, steps long and eating up the ground. At this rate, I’d be late, which would only anger the Koron further.
The banishment to the front should have felt like a victory after years of trying to convince my sister and her husband I was of better use there than hunting Elessarum and Seers. But with Sylaira in tow, it was a special kind of purgatory.
Which was why I’d thrown myself so heavily into feeding the war machine. I wasn’t taking my mate there without a healthy barrier between us and the Demons.
Not that I told Sylaira that was what I was doing all day. I’d already lied to her about something worse; this omission was nothing in comparison. After I claimed her, she softened toward me. The storm of her hatred had silenced. And there was no way I’d willingly shatter the tenuous peace between us.
At the thought of my mate, my cock twitched. Fuck, I couldn’t get enough of her—ghostflower in my nose, peaches on my tongue. I was a male possessed by need, no matter how exhaustion tugged at my limbs. No matter how Iaoth screamed at me every time she summoned me.
These days, she spat my name like it was poison—and outright refused to utter Sylaira’s.
According to my mate, despite the constant drugging to wring visions from them, my sister hadn’t made an appearance in the Divine Atrium since the ball.
Fear writhed in my gut. Because if she wasn’t there, she was plotting something. And when she disappeared like that, someone usually turned up dead.
At last, I strode into the maw of political posturing, already waiting for the jaws to snap around me.
Herr Elyriane glared at me from down the massive oak table as I took my place. To sit at the right hand of the Koron was the highest honor, the signal of his most favorite. If only everyone knew what truly happened to their monarchs’ favorite punching bag.
Especially Zarethiel. He had been kicked a few seats down the lefthand side when he’d once sat across from me. Another flex of Stadiel’s power as he attempted to regain control after the shockwave of the trial by light announcement swept through the court.
Now, Kisst Caerelith, Maelsar’s father, had usurped the Herr.
Our Koron rose, and all murmurs hushed. “Zahal Ishim is waiting at the mouth of the Paks Desert. But he expects the new surge of red-eyed beasts to arrive within a fortnight.”
At the mention of the Demons, righteous indignation rang out among the males.
“Can he hold them off for now?” Herr Elyriane asked, his attention sliding to me. “Or will you need to send Herr Räviel to join him imminently?”
No one knew that it was by his request that I was finally being sent to the front, permanently. He’d snatched every opportunity to subtly remind me of the power he held over me. Clearly, he hadn’t forgiven me for striking him at the ball. Or Commanding him. And he likely wouldn’t, even after our trial.
