Page 35 of Horns of Wicked Ebony (Deathcaller Duet #2)

A string of curses fled my lips as I yanked on the knob to yet another supply closet. “Why are there so many fucking doors in this place?” I mumbled to myself as I slammed it shut. With a huff, I continued down the fourth-floor hall in search of the stairwell.

Really should have accepted that tour from Rokath.

My mate was currently occupied, preparing for Xannirin and Kiira’s arrival.

I’d wanted to see where the females would be housed and ensure it was clean because I’d been around these males long enough to know what was passable for them.

And that they’d not spent nearly enough time around females to be attuned to our needs in the slightest.

Rokath’s directions to their barracks—down two landings of the spiral staircase from his office, first left down the long hall, out onto the inner curtain, second door on the right, down another spiral staircase, and then I’d be there.

Supposedly.

I was still looking for the long fucking hall.

Cursing my mate under my breath, I threw open another door, expecting to find a broom staring me in the face. To my surprise, a vast stretch of space awaited me. “Finally,” I muttered, striding through. Voices drifted down the stone walls, which was another good sign.

The heavy oak swung shut behind me with a loud thump. A moment later, the gong reverberated through the keep. I kept walking, determined to reach the first left before males swarmed from one place to the next.

Yet as I continued on, no hurried footsteps echoed around me. No baritone laughter greeted me.

Am I in the wrong hall?

The first split came upon me, and I quickened my pace, heading to the left. I glanced down the right hand path as I turned, only to slam to a halt.

“Please, make it stop,” a male whimpered, curled in on himself with his hands over his ears. His clothes hung limp over his frame, and his pale skin was soaked in sweat. Back pressed against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, body trembling, he was clearly not okay.

I eased one foot in front of the other as I approached, not wanting to startle him. As I got closer, I lowered myself to the ground so I wasn’t towering over him. “Hello,” I said, keeping my tone level and even.

With a start, he ripped his eyes open, revealing a crimson shade. My heart twisted. He’d been on the front lines, and Fates knew for how long.

“Can you make it stop?” he asked, his voice so broken that tears blurred my vision. His hands still pressed to the sides of his head.

“The gong?” I clarified, blinking rapidly to banish the salt.

He nodded.

The final peal rang out a moment later, leaving a descending vibration in its wake. I waited for it to pass before speaking again. “See? No more. You’re safe to uncover your ears now.”

Slowly, he lowered his hands, eyes darting everywhere. “Where are they?”

“Where are who?” I asked softly.

“The Angels,” he whispered as if they could hear us. His chin wobbled like he was trying desperately to hold himself together.

I swallowed the emotion welling in my throat. “They’re far, far away. They can’t reach us here. That’s why you returned with us, isn’t it? For some rest?”

“Yes.” The word, so quiet and yet so shattered, slashed my heart.

“And where are you supposed to be while you’re resting?” I tested because I had no clue where I was and if I tried to return him to the healing wing I’d most likely get us lost.

He lifted a hand and pointed toward a door a dozen paces away. “Th–there. We’re all supposed to be there. I–I got…lost on my return from the privy.”

“Why don’t I accompany you so you don’t get lost again?” My tone was light and gentle, and I pressed my palms to the ground and rose to my feet.

The male shoved himself upright, still leaning into the wall. “Yes, please, Szélhámos.”

At least he knows who I am.

He lingered for a moment with his back against the stone, attention flicking from me to the door to the hall behind me.

“You remember who my mate is?” I questioned, gauging his every reaction.

“Aye,” he said, though his tone contained a hint of wariness.

“If anyone attacks us here, the Halálhívó will come for me immediately. He can protect you like he protects me,” I told him, hoping that would ease some of his anxiety .

The male nodded and dragged in a deep breath. Then, like it physically pained him, he took a step forward. Another followed. I waited a few beats before trailing him, ensuring I was in his periphery at all times. The last thing I wanted to do was to scare him again.

We approached the door he had indicated.

My shoulders relaxed once he gripped the handle and opened it.

Inside, a handful of others waited, all in wood chairs arranged in a neat circle.

At one end was a male I didn’t recognize, his hair longer than was allowed in the army, wearing wool pants and a crisp tunic.

“Ah, there you are, Mak. I was about to send someone–” he cut himself off when I appeared behind the crimson-eyed male. “Szélhámos.”

Heat crept to my cheeks as all the males turned to look at me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt this…” I trailed off, unsure what to call the gathering.

“We’re talking about…about what happened to us,” Mak told me quietly.

I looked up at him, noting then just how young he was.

Barely of age at most, with the build of a male who hadn’t quite come into his form.

Yet that innocence that so often accompanied coming of age had been stripped away entirely.

My attention drifted to the others, vision blurred from unshed tears. “I’ll be on my way so you can continue.”

The leader rose, gesturing for Mak to return to his chair. The soldier did as he was ordered. But instead of dismissing me, the well-dressed male went behind him and fetched another chair. “Why don’t you join us?”

All I could do was blink at him as he scooted the seats around to place the now-empty one beside his.

I took a hesitant step forward, scanning the group.

These males weren’t used to females, let alone veilless ones.

Or ones that were mated to their exalted leader.

Every instinct told me to decline. Yet when I’d spoken of my trauma with Kiira, I’d felt infinitely lighter afterward.

And with the weight of everything I’d experienced in the past few months, I certainly could use an unburdening. “Only if I won’t be an intrusion.”

“On the contrary. I believe the presence of someone so revered would help these soldiers feel heard,” the cherry-eyed male said. A few of the others nodded their assent, though some regarded me with a hint of reservation.

My feet moved before I registered what they were doing. I planted myself in the chair, meeting the gaze of each soldier before me. “Thank you for allowing me to sit with you.”

“Why don’t we each introduce ourselves to the Szélhámos. I’ll go first. I’m Exen, brain healer for Fured.” He dipped his head in the direction of the male beside him.

“I am Thal, Szélhámos. You are welcome in this group, as all are.” This one looked more weathered, like he’d been in the army years instead of months like many of the other males.

“Pleased to meet you, Thal,” I replied. Each soldier gave his name in turn, and I thanked them all for their service and letting me join them.

Exen resumed the discussion once all had finished. “Mak, what delayed your return?”

All attention fell on the crimson-eyed male. Yet it wasn’t the heavy, judgmental type I’d been on the receiving end for far too long. Instead, each regarded him with openness and empathy.

Mak swallowed hard. “When the gong rang…” The male beside him gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

Mak exhaled, then continued. “It reminded me of an illusion an Angel forced on me. Bells pealing everywhere, like we’d won a great victory.

When I realized I’d been tricked and shook myself out of it, my best friend was in front of me, a spear through his middle.

He–he gave his life for me. Because I wasn’t paying at tention to my mind, keeping myself grounded in reality to prevent those insects from using such magic on me. ”

Many of the males shifted in their seats or looked down at the floor. My heart ached for Mak, for all of these soldiers. I’d blamed myself for the deaths of everyone I loved too.

A few more added stories of how they’d lost friends or brothers to the Angels. As the hour passed, I learned that most were here because of how they’d died. One tragic story after another squeezed my ribs.

The males comforted each other with small touches, words of encouragement, and shared feelings.

Exen expertly handled each passing moment, drawing out words when a soldier struggled to voice his dark memories.

Shadows slipped around them while they recounted it, and I watched in rapt fascination as some of their emotion abated.

After the session, I had to ask him how it worked.

Eventually, he turned his attention to me. “Szélhámos, you have been part of this army for months now. Is there anything you’d like to share?”

The faces of everyone I’d lost flashed through my mind. My mother, my father, my sister…but they’d all been during the plague. The common theme among the males had been friends. And two losses in particular still weighed heavily on me.

“My best friend died trying to protect me too,” I whispered, allowing two tears to fall for Olrus.

Another fell for Izgath. Despite how far we were from Uzhhorod, the scent of scorched flesh filled my nostrils.

He’d remained honorable even as they burned him alive on a pyre for refusing to share my true identity.

Yet I couldn’t speak about him, not without revealing secrets Rokath and I would rather not share.

I’d atoned for that with my rescue of Zurronar, and was far more at peace with it than I was with Olrus.

Mak met my gaze. “How do you live with it? ”