Page 3 of Horns of Wicked Ebony (Deathcaller Duet #2)

T he throne of angel bones dug into my backside as I waited for the moment I’d retake command of my forces. Yet I couldn’t wrestle my attention away from my mate, still resting in our bed. Our return journey to the army had been a trying one, and yet she hadn’t protested for a single moment.

She almost fucking died, and I hated myself for letting it come that close. My abhorrence for the Angels, my thirst for their blood had increased tenfold during our trek through the Paks Desert.

For days, we’d recuperated in secret—returning under the cover of darkness had been a blessing. In that time, I’d debriefed Rapp and Trol on what had occurred after we parted ways.

I’d told them of my plan to include females in the army too.

I meant what I said to Assyria before we departed: the army needed to change.

We could easily increase our numbers, and besides that, they could focus on fighting the Angel females while the males saved their energy for the bigger fighters.

With our newly trained magic-focused units too, our force would be unstoppable.

And I was ready for Assyria to be my true equal.

Rapp had an immediate friendship with my mate and had witnessed our relationship from the very beginning, so the changes were unsurprising to him. Trol had taken a little convincing, but after the heavy losses we’d suffered, he’d come around quickly.

My initial idea had been to return to Uzhhorod, the capital of the Demon Realm, with a handful of squads and speak with High Priestess Kiira and Kral Xannirin, my cousins and co-conspirators, about another conscription.

Together, we’d shaped Demon society into a devoted, faithful, and obedient flock.

As much as I wanted to have the conversation about the future of our military in person, time was currently our enemy as much as those white-winged insects.

Rapp had suggested that we ask Kiira to pull exclusively from the priestesses, since they wouldn’t question her command.

Her storytelling was divine, and whatever she proclaimed was taken as fact—whether or not it was true.

Trol solidified our plan when he proposed that we seek out only the high-powered ones and send them to Fured for training, along with the others we’d gathered months before.

Trol managed the masses of soldiers like a seasoned shepherd—fair, firm, and calculating, though he could be ruthless when necessary.

He was more familiar with the lower-level grievances and politics that emerged from having such a large company.

His opinion was that integrating a smaller group first would have a trickle down effect once the entire army was reunited.

Yet I still had some atoning to do, and I didn’t want Assyria here to witness it. She was still so weak, even after days of rest. The pallor of her tan skin worried me as she continued to lay in our new bed. The dryness of her lips. Her cheekbones, sharpened by lack of food.

Shame like I’d never felt weighed heavily on me.

Whispers of my presence had grown like thorny weeds in a well-tended garden. Especially after no one else rejoined the larger group from the west. The questions had sharpened into why Assyria and I were the only ones to return and where the remainder of the males had gone.

Distracting them hadn’t quelled the growing unrest.

Especially as the Angels—dug in on the opposite side of Lutsk—had kept to themselves since we’d reunited with the army.

Which was why we’d planned this gathering, so all the soldiers could hear me speak.

So the rumors would dissipate. I drummed my fingers over the skull at the end of the arm of the throne, mentally rehearsing the speech I was set to give.

Never had I feared addressing my soldiers, and yet this moment was the closest the emotion had come to breaking through my hardened walls.

A riot of voices outside tore me from my thoughts.

It is time.

I rose, plucking my helmet from the ground and securing it on my head. Horns of wicked ebony speared toward the sky, and two sockets in the black skull mask over my face allowed everyone to see my burgundy eyes.

I was dressed for battle, because this address would certainly require the full force of my presence.

For centuries, I’d drilled certain beliefs into the army—namely that females didn’t belong.

Yet the revelation of fifty thousand soldiers’ deaths would elicit the worst response.

Especially when they learned why they would never return.

As I rolled my shoulders and blew out a long breath, movement in my periphery caught my attention. From the rear room, Assyria emerged, wearing the leather armor I’d procured for her when she’d requested something more comfortable to ride in other than dresses.

Upon our return, I’d had all our clothing thoroughly cleaned, ensuring that not a single grain of sand remained in the fabric. Yet seeing her in something so standard issue gave me pause.

She needed more. She needed to be more if any of this was going to work.

Now was not the time to plan for that, though.

“What are you doing out of bed?” I asked her, though my tone was more concerned than chastising.

She strode forward, tucking her long hair behind her pointed ears. The rest tumbled freely to her waist, shiny and clean. Yet under her eyes, dark circles clung like purple reminders of her exhaustion.

“I’m here to stand beside you, as your mate. You don’t have to face anything alone anymore, remember?” she quipped. Despite her fatigue, that snark remained.

The corners of my mouth twitched. I didn’t know if I wanted to send her away to rest or to kiss her for choosing to join me.

Assyria must have sensed my internal battle because she huffed.

“I think we’re past the point of pretending that you can’t let anyone in, that you can’t show weakness to anyone.

Maybe you don’t show it to them, but you show it to me.

” Her voice remained strong and steady, and she offered me a fierce look that said she wasn’t backing down.

Not like she ever did when it came to me.

A memory of our first meeting flashed through my mind. How she’d crossed her arms and refused to give me her name. Threatened to kill me or herself to end the situation the Fates had forced us into .

I fucking loved that fire in her.

My hands flexed at my sides as I weighed her words. Despite my instincts telling me to squash what I was feeling and hold the burden of everything onto my own, I peeled my fingers off the hilt of control and accepted what she was offering.

Because she was right.

“Keep doing this.” I’d need her help to continue to correct this defensive behavior. To learn how to feel again.

“Deal,” she said, stepping forward and flattening her palms on the metal plates covering my chest. “Just tell me what you need me to do, and I will do it.”

“Stand by my side. Harsh words will fly, but don’t let them affect you. Try your best to watch that smart mouth of yours,” I told her, amusement threading my tone.

Her answering grin was full of mischief. “You know I’ve never been good at that.”

“Precisely why I should send you back to our tent,” I growled. Draping an arm around her shoulders, I steered her toward the map room.

“Don’t you think it’s funny you have such a temper, and I can’t swallow my words?” she asked, a lightness to her tone aimed at soothing my fears.

“I don’t think ‘funny’ is the word I’d use to describe it,” I grumbled as we entered together. Rapp and Trol looked up from their conversation.

“Ready?” Rapp asked me, attention flickering to Assyria at my side.

“As I’ll ever be.” I tugged at the underside of my helmet, ensuring it was perfectly in place.

Nodding, he and Trol slipped outside, both releasing sharp whistles. The cacophony of noise died down instantly.

Beside me, Assyria squared her shoulders. She gave a small dip of her chin, letting me know she was ready. Dragging in a breath, I straightened, towering above the ground. Then, I flung back the flap and stomped into the light.

To add an extra level of intimidation, I dove into the well of ebony shadows in my chest and pulled inky tendrils to my arms and feet.

Assyria did the same, and together we settled onto the platform that always stood in the center of the war camp, demonstrating the depths of our Giver-blessed power together.

Rapp and Trol came to stand a few paces behind the two of us. All around, soldiers knelt in deference, though more than a few pairs of eyes bored into me, hints of distrust and hostility peeking through.

I noted their positions. They’d be the most difficult to convince and might require additional persuasion.

“Rise,” I commanded, and like a wave, the males crested.

“This gossip about why I returned without my battalions stops now.”

Furious whispers crackled through the crowd. I let out a low growl, magic tightening at my feet. “Anyone who dares speak again before I am finished will find themselves tied to the pole and preparing for a lashing.”

Silence reigned.

I inhaled deeply, chest expanding against the metal plates, as I prepared to report what had occurred. “Your brothers fought bravely, beating those fucking fanatics back day by day and slaughtering them by the thousands. Until we reached a salt flat where the path narrowed.”

The knock of my boots against the wood echoed in the space between my words as I walked a slow circle around the platform. Each section received equal measures of my attention.

And equal measures of my scrutiny.

“What I did not know was that the Angels have been taking prisoners for a long time. These prisoners shared with the Angel leadership that I had brought a female along with me.”

A voice caught my attention, and I tilted my head to the side, eyes narrowing on the offender. “Do you have something you wish to say?” I snarled in his direction.