She tracked the voice—female—to somewhere near the back of the assembly of elementals. But it was impossible for her to pinpoint it. It could have come from half a dozen females of the more than two dozen glaring at her.
Dressed mostly in rags, they were at least upright. Their flight from Baylaur had been fast and cruel, the intervening weeks more of the same as they’d fought the succubus who crept into their camp. And they’d still climbed this hill to volunteer to fight. These were the type of warriors she wanted to command.
If they would follow her Ancestors’-damned commands.
“It is not a discussion. The High King and Queen have given me command of the fae in Eldermist. What remains of the Council of Elders have put human volunteers under my command as well. First, you spar. Then I will put you in formation.”
“And if we think one of us would be a better leader?” The same voice as before. Gwen had been watching; she narrowed the possibilities to three.
“You are free to take it up with Veyka Pendragon or Arran Earthborn when they return.”
No one had a response for that, not even the mysterious female instigator. Humans and fae alike feared the High King and Queen of Annwyn. “Move!”
This time they did. It took only one inhale and exhale for Gwen to realize what was happening—and not happening—right before her eyes. The exact opposite of what she’d intended.
“No—pair up. Human with fae.” She had to stop saying elemental. It only gave the refugees a reason to point out the differences between them and her. “We are going to become one fighting force. We start that now.”
The human volunteers who’d come forward flinched, except for the warriors. Gwen recognized some of the band that had surrounded her and Lyrena in the pass above Eldermist. Good, it would not all be novices.
“Are they allowed to use magic?” the red-haired woman who’d led the patrol called out.
“Yes.” Gwen watched the ripple move through the crowd, but she’d anticipated this. “But any injury that incapacitates a human and prevents them from fighting will be punishable by death.”
More murmurs. Noweveryonewas glaring at her.
Ironic as fucking hell.
The elementals should be the ones mistrusting her.
But the humans were just as skittish.
Ancestors, just kill me and be done with it.
They all hated her. At least they had one thing in common.
They’d all had their lives ravaged by the succubus. That was another.
The red-gold haired warrior who had cornered Gwen in the mountains stepped across the breach of space, pointing a finger at a fae male with a dagger in a makeshift scabbard on his belt. “Let’s go.”
Her words were the first hole in the dam.
Next her lieutenants stepped forward, selecting fae opponents. Some of the fae began to step up as well, jerking nods to the humans.
Slowly, but in a steady flow, the matches were made. Sparring began.
There was not much space, but that was fine with Gwen. Battles were sometimes fought in tight quarters. It was never like the training ring, just you and one opponent. On the battlefield, there were always other bodies to be concerned with, whether they be friend or enemy. With these first blows, the training had begun.
Gwen walked slowly between the matches, ducking punches and flinging bodies. The humans were outmatched. Of course they were. But the fae held back, unwilling to risk their own lives by injuring the humans after they’d already survived so much terror at the claws of the succubus. She assessed their restraint and control, both vital on a battlefield as well.
All magic had a cost, and if the fae spent their magic too fast, those consequences would be dire. They might pass out from exhaustion in the middle of the battlefield, and then they’d be easy fodder for the succubus.
As she moved through the crush, she catalogued every movement, every error in form and every carefully controlled torrent of power. An ice-wielder who threw daggers of ice, but couldn’t aim them. A human who was so fast, they’d pose a worthy opponent to Veyka herself.
Gwen had seen Arran do it dozens of times. It was part of what made him a brilliant commander—his ability to assess the strengths of those under his command and use them to offset one another’s weakness while simultaneously reinforcing each other’s strengths. He’d done it with flora and fauna gifted terrestrials. She’d do it with humans and fae. A single discrete task she could lose herself in, hide from the nightmares and guilt of her own emotions.
She neared the edge of the hilltop, where one female waited. She was slight—could have been mistaken for a human, if not for the pointed tips of her ears. She was not waiting for an opponent. She was waiting for Guinevere.
“You killed my brother.” Gwen did not have to ask who she meant.
