Page 29 of Horns of Wicked Ebony (Deathcaller Duet #2)

T he transition from the dry, sandy air of the desert to that of the briny sea was a welcome change.

As we passed over another rolling hill, the town of Fured spread before us, stretching across the plateau that led directly to the deep blue ocean.

Marshy green plants lined the road, swaying in the salted breeze.

I’d spent more time here in my centuries of life than anywhere else in the Demon Realm, including Uzhhorod.

The military academy Xannirin, Rapp, and I had attended sat like a solemn companion to the bustling seaside town.

From the distance, it appeared as an impenetrable fortress, with high, round turrets spaced at regular intervals in every direction.

The stone battlements jutted against the cliffside, preventing any attacks from the rear.

Not that anyone would be stupid enough to attempt to scale the sheer cliffs battered by fierce, frothy waves.

The wind too was a formidable opponent. A vivid memory of being pushed off the tallest tower at the rear slammed into me as my gaze landed on it.

The howls, the screams, the snap of wings from every initiate faced their death at the hands of the sharp rocks and rough ocean below.

The way the air had buffeted me, dragging me like a leaf.

The giddiness of the freefall tugged at my chest. As did the pride in how my wings had snapped open at the penultimate moment and caught a draft that carried me away from the perilous rocks.

Yet the male who’d fallen after me had exhausted himself, unable to maneuver his body properly, and dropped like a stone into the sea.

His death didn’t stir sorrow in me. Or regret. Or any other emotion. Nor did the dozen others who’d succumbed to the mighty power of nature.

War was a game of survival. If they couldn’t thrive at the academy, they wouldn’t have lived through a single battle.

Black banners whipped in the wind atop the turrets, still bearing the army’s crossed sword sigil. Which meant that the Kral had not yet arrived. When he did, they’d be replaced with burgundy banners, all bearing the triple skulls of House Vrak.

My stomach unknotted. With our late departure as we waited for Rapp to awaken, I had worried they’d beat us here. I’d secretly hoped they’d been waylaid on their journey so I had a moment to reorient myself before speaking with them.

My small prayers have been answered.

“So this is it?” Assyria asked softly beside me.

I tore my attention away from the academy and to my mate.

Black leather armor clung to her like a second skin, and her posture atop her new mare was proud and square.

Blaeze had gone lame after our harrowing journey, and he deserved a rest. Much like the soldiers beginning to display trauma responses trailing behind us.

They’d fought, they’d bled, they’d survived countless skirmishes—some for years.

That didn’t come without heavy strings attached.

Fured had always been a place of discipline. Brutality. Unforgiving training .

But perhaps it could become something…different.

With the arrival of Assyria, with the arrival of the females, with the future we were fighting for, maybe, just maybe, this would be the crucible of change. Where wounds of all types could heal. Where those long since separated could reunite.

Where the Fates would shine their favor and aid us in ending this fucking war.

Assyria dug her heels into the horse’s dark bay belly, urging her on. We’d ridden side by side the entirety of our trek from the Paks Desert, and I let her edge ahead now as we closed in on the fork in the road.

At the peak of the hill, she halted, scanning the vastness of the scene before us, the scouting skills I’d taught her all those months ago kicking in.

A small smile tugged at my lips. Our time in Fured would be spent further honing her powers and fighting skills.

When we returned to the front, she’d be fully prepared to face the Angels again.

And slaughter them at every step.

She would be as formidable as she looked now with her hair braided back, sharp tongue ready to cut down all who questioned her.

“This is it,” I echoed her words, tugging on my stallion’s reins and angling him beside the mare. Assyria’s mind tumbled over all the horrific memories I’d shared with her about my father and everything that had happened to me here.

“It’s…different than I pictured,” she said, shifting in her saddle.

“What were you expecting, little imposter?” I asked, draping my hands at the pommel of my saddle.

She lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “Something more sinister I suppose.”

A low chuckle vibrated in my chest. “Have I spoiled you so thoroughly, mate, that only danger makes your heart race? Makes you feel alive?”

Her attention drifted to me, teeth digging into her lower lip. “No.”

“Then I’ll do better,” I replied, my tone laced with dark intent.

Hoofbeats shattered our moment, and I tilted my head over my shoulder. The rest of our group had finally caught up.

Which meant it was time to continue on. A heavy sigh escaped me, and I rolled out my neck.

My mate looked up at me, those devious burgundy eyes sharp with scrutiny. “Are you ready?”

“Aye,” I replied, clucking my tongue and setting the black horse into motion again. The left hand split would take us straight to the entry of the academy. Turning onto that road didn’t ignite feelings of warmth or home in me. Instead, the cold dread clung to me like a thick fog.

“Are you going to give me more than one or two word answers if I ask other questions about the academy?” she quipped as her mare fell into step beside me.

“If you would like, I can,” I grumbled.

Fucking hate when she calls me out like that.

She offered me a saccharine smile. “Yes, please.”

My blood heated, going straight to my groin. “I do like when you beg.” I steered my stallion closer to her. “Maybe later, I’ll have to make you beg for something else.”

Lust swept down our bond. “Only after we’ve bathed,” she replied, her voice breathy in my mind.

“Wait until you see my rooms here. You’ll want to bathe together,” I told her as images of us doing just that flashed through my mind.

Her throat worked deliciously.

Ahead of us, twin siege doors groaned open. To be fair, a party of this size was hard to miss, especially with spotters posted at each of the forward towers all hours of the day. And now, with the Angels clawing deep into Demon territory, it was necessary.

I glanced behind us to the cart where Rapp rode, only a dozen or so paces behind.

He was still somewhat incapacitated, especially when it came to holding himself upright.

At least after a few weeks of healing, he had more use of his arms and could feed himself.

Any tugging on his chest muscles though set him back by days.

Which he’d done too many times already, to no one’s surprise.

From the doors, a group of soldiers emerged, headed by Parancsok Olet.

He was the highest ranking officer in residence, overseeing the training of the high-powered Demons I’d sent here after the mass conscription.

His maroon armor gleamed in the sunlight, and I appreciated that he hadn’t grown sloppy without my oversight.

His discipline was one of the reasons I’d selected him to lead this charge.

Other ranking soldiers framed him, and they all dropped to one knee, resting their foreheads on their arms as we came to a halt. I dismounted my stallion, handing the reins to Assyria, and approached the Parancsok.

“Rise,” I told him, and he did, though everyone else remained in their venerating postures.

“Halálhívó,” he greeted me, scanning my face with an understandable curiosity. “I am pleased your journey was safe and swift. How fares Hadvezér Rapp?”

Prior to our departure, I’d sent a raven explaining that we’d be joining him in Fured with injured from the front and that Xannirin and Kiira would be bringing a group of females around the same time, since I didn’t know how long their journey would take.

The specifics and reasons behind each, I’d left out.

Those conversations would happen later, face to face, to ensure he would assist in steering those he’d been training in the right direction.

“He is unhappy with his current predicament, naturally. Hopefully some time by the sea will be restorative for him,” I commented, gesturing over my shoulder at the wagons rolling to a stop.

Olet chuckled, his attention following mine. “That it will. We’ve prepared your rooms, and another for Hadvezér Rapp to rest comfortably. The healer is waiting to see him as well.”

I scanned the rest of the males, still kneeling. “Good. Once we’re settled, let’s speak in my office.”

“Yes, Halálhívó, I am at your command,” he replied. Then, he snapped his fingers, and everyone behind him rose. “Assist with settling our new compatriots into the barracks.”

The soldiers peeled off in the direction of our convoy. Voices soon filled the air, smothering the cries of gulls flying overhead and the waves crashing against the cliffs below. Assyria dismounted and grabbed both our horses’ reins, leading them forward.

“Parancsok Olet,” she said, keeping her shoulders square and chin lifted. Though down our bond, a hint of trepidation trickled. After all, the last time they’d seen each other, he’d thrown her at my feet and asked me how she should be punished for her crimes.

Recognition flickered in his maroon eyes. His dark brows pinched, leaving a deep crease. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, she cut him off.

“I’m glad to see you arrived safely after your departure from Uzhhorod,” she said, her regard sweeping over him. She addressed him like a superior, not a female once punished at his hand. It was a bold move, and it was everything I’d come to love about her .

“This is Assyria, the Szélhámos. My mate,” I introduced her, formally, to Olet. A healthy amount of threat weighed in my tone.