It must feel strange for the rebels to stand out in the open after years of working in secret, but as I wave to Esther, Mal, and Deedus, they look almost excited. They’ve been fighting this battle for so long, and now they have an army behind them at last.
The fae soldiers are scattered along the rest of the front line as we discussed, ready to provide extra magical help to the Trovian soldiers.
“There you are.”
I turn to see Leon riding up, my security detail separating to let him through. He looks fierce and deadly and beautiful in his battle armor. Ready for anything.
“Don’t worry,” he says to me. “I’ll stay close, but nottooclose. I’m trusting these men and women to do their job.” He says the last bit louder, making sure my guard hears.
“You’ve made your point, my love,”I say with a little shake of my head.
“Not quite,”he replies. Then he leans over from his horse and kisses me.
The rest of the world melts away. For a moment, there’s no army or forest or enemy waiting out there for us. There’s just me and him, the mooring flaring between us as our tongues dance together, Leon’s touch and scent surrounding me.
Maybe once, I would’ve worried about being so affectionate in front of hundreds of people. But I won’t miss this chance to touch him, taste him, be near him—not when there might not be another chance.
“Now I’ve made my point,”he says smugly as we pull apart.
A horn sounds, indicating we’re about to start moving, and Leon falls back, letting my security close around me once more.
Twenty minutes of riding later, and the trees of the Miravow loom above us, the sturdy giants stretching their leaves out to cast an eerie emerald light. We’ve not even stepped under their boughs when they start to groan. The forest isn’t happy, and we’re about to disturb it more.
“Gods keep us,” Captain Drisha mutters as we pass beneath the first few branches, the trees creaking and rustling despite the lack a of breeze.
“As long as we stay respectful, they should let us pass,” I say, though I can tell it doesn’t bring a lot of comfort to him.
“And when we reach the Temple’s soldiers and the fighting starts? It’ll be hard not to disturb their peace then,” Will points out.
He’s more right than he realizes. The trees won’t stay silent while we commit the ultimate crime in the Miravow—violence. I suspect not even the seal can protect Caledon’s army then, but our forces will be just as vulnerable.
“Then we have to do as Captain Drisha does, and pray the gods will be on our side,” I say firmly. The soldiers around me need to hear that I have faith—not just in a higher power, but that we’ll be okay. I think he understands, because he gives me a curt nod and doesn’t ask any more questions.
After a morning of riding through the shady, shifting forest, there’s a shout along the line and movement ahead in the trees.
“We’ve caught them up,” Captain Drisha says, drawing his sword. “Once they know we’re here, they’ll send some of their forces back our way.”
I nod, not drawing my own sword yet. While I’m behind my guards, I’m better off keeping my hands free for casting magic.
More shouts and distant crashing sounds come from further into the forest on our right. I think I hear the clash of steel, but it’s hard to tell as the creaking of the trees crescendos, thebranches swaying above us violently enough to shed small twigs and leaves.
I see a flash of red in the trees ahead—cleric’s robes, I think. The air fills with the fizz of magic as soldiers all around us prepare to conjure. For a few, tense seconds, there’s no movement ahead of us. Then a searing blast of flame flies from between the trees, igniting the grass in front of us and startling one of the horses.
Its piercing whinny is soon drowned out as all gloam breaks loose.
Cleavers sprint through the trees like a swarm of wasps. Our own soldiers surge forward, and they collide in an explosion of flying magic and slicing metal.
It’s chaos, full of bright flashes and burning smells and the wet spray of something—I’m not sure whether it’s water or blood. I don’t have time to find out, as my focus narrows to the few feet ahead of me.
“Forward!” Drisha bellows as we kick our horses into a gallop. We blast past a group of cleavers on foot but are nearly thrown from our horses by an aesteri spell one sends after us. I twist in my saddle as one of my guards tries to slow the cleaver down with some twisting vines.
“Get down!” I shout to her, and she obeys, ducking so I can send a sun beam searing straight through the cleaver’s head.
“Atta girl!” Will shouts over the noise. I realize he’s never seen me in action before. But his words of praise are quickly drowned out by a scream from a burly guard to his left. A cleaver’s sprung up from behind a tree and buried an axe in his thigh. The guard cuts the cleaver down before he can swing again, but blood pours down his pant leg, soaking his boots and the flank of his horse.I reach out for his inner flame, shocked to see how fast it’s dimming. He’s losing too much blood for my magic to rejuvenate it.
“Leon,”I barely have to reach out across the mooring before he’s there, galloping up beside us.
“He needs Mal,”I say, jerking my head toward the guard, whose face is growing pale with blood loss, his body sagging in the saddle.
