Page 39 of Horns of Wicked Ebony (Deathcaller Duet #2)

G rem nudged my thigh, demanding affection like the greedy hound he was.

I obliged, fingers raking through his soft black fur as I surveyed the flurry of activity outside the academy.

Priestesses swept by, their whispers about my helmet planting seeds of pride in my chest. Still more spoke of my honorific.

I mirrored Rokath’s stoicism, but really, I wanted to race forward and hug them all.

Thousands of them.

Hope hitched my breath. They were in Fured because of me. But did they know that? Had the Fates offered Kiira another vision? Did she prepare them for what was to come?

Tears burned the backs of my eyes. This would make an enormous difference—not only for the war, but for Demon society as a whole.

Once we convinced the detractors, that was. Given the expressions on many males’ faces, Xannirin’s overt disdain, and Rokath’s fury, we were only a few steps down this long, winding path.

Rokath stroked his thumb across my lower back. “What’s bothering you?” I asked down our bond .

“The way Kiira and Xannirin were acting…” he trailed off, his thoughts a violent storm.

“All is not well between them. Or between Xannirin and you,” I added, hoping that would anchor him.

“That is an understatement. The question is why and when it began,” he grumbled. With a gentle nudge, we began our trek back into the academy.

“Well, they’re not fucking like I thought Banand and Araquiel might have been,” I teased, attempting to pull him from his dark mood.

His flat expression told me he was unamused by my joke.

I rolled my eyes. “I only really met with Xannirin once before. Any other time, it was mostly in passing. Though he seemed far colder to me earlier than he did when I was living in the adjacent room. As for Kiira…”

The High Priestess had greeted me with enthusiasm and kindness. Rapp too. But when it came to Rokath and Xannirin, her behavior had been entirely different. Less with my mate than their cousin, though.

“She seems more guarded with you than before.”

He nodded, acknowledging my response. “If your perceptiveness reveals anything else to you, do let me know.”

“Guess we’ve found what else I can help you with. Since you have the emotional capacity of a drop of Grem’s drool, I can be your people-interpreter,” I quipped, grinning up at him.

“Just because you might be more perceptive than me does not mean I am incapable of it,” he growled, a warning in his tone I didn’t heed. Grem and Zeec disappeared into the crowded courtyard. Most were used to their presence and paid them no mind as they sniffed.

“Sure. Let’s go eat dinner before you try to convince yourself you are the prettier one too,” I teased, tugging on his hands to lead him toward the commons. While the gong hadn’t yet sounded, it would soon, judging by the angle of the sun.

Rather than allow me to direct our path, he yanked me into an alcove, out of sight. Grabbing his helmet by the horns, he tugged it over his head, revealing a dark expression that made my thighs press together. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. Heard the things you think about me.”

He set his skull-shaped helm off to one side before reaching for mine, his eyes blazing with primal intent.

I offered him a saccharine smile as he braced his hands on either side of my head.

“You’re a male. Your attention is far more overt than mine could ever be.

Those lustful thoughts you hear from me? Just an echo of your own.”

Then, I patted the center of his chest with as much condescension as I could muster and slipped out from under his arms. Dipping to the ground, I found the rose-decorated metal and tucked it beneath my arm.

He muttered under his breath, then his heavy footsteps followed me down the open air hall.

Our hounds rejoined us as we joined the crowd streaming toward the scent of garlic and rosemary.

Three times we had to stop short as males crossed our path, carrying bags, crates, and other supplies toward the eastern barracks. Priestesses accompanied them, keeping their distance. Mistrustful looks were as common as lustful ones.

When the gong sounded, the academy was still a hive of activity. Rokath shouted over the noise. “At ease. The dining hall will remain open and the cooks will feed you. Finish what you are doing.”

The soldiers and priestesses carried on.

We entered the commons side by side, striding purposefully toward the high table. Olet, Rapp, and Kiira were already seated and waiting for us. The long ones for the soldiers were barely half-full and yet the females who had settled on the benches whispered about my bare face.

Had they expected me to don a veil when I removed my helmet?

I kept my chin high and let them see what happened when we challenged the males who controlled us and won.

The High Priestess’s expression brightened as we approached, and she waved me into a chair beside her.

Without a second thought, I slid into it, placing my armor on the ground beneath me.

Kiira and I had grown close during the time I’d spent locked in Gyor Palace, and other than the one note she’d sent me about Olrus, I hadn’t spoken to her since.

Rokath took a seat beside Olet, and a moment later, Xannirin appeared in the hall. Salutes and curtseys greeted him as he passed by soldiers and priestesses alike. Yet he didn’t deign to give them an ounce of attention. No one spoke at our table as he sat.

Even the servers seemed hesitant to approach with the thundercloud hanging over him.

Rokath waved them forward, and they eased into their roles, settling glasses of water in front of us, followed by steaming baskets of bread.

Our dinner was once again fish, which I’d quickly learned was the norm given our proximity to the sea.

Honestly, I didn’t care so long as it wasn’t whatever that mushy, tasteless, sticky gruel was they made in the war camp.

I felt bad for Trol having to endure it for so long.

Whenever we departed, I’d bring him some real food—something that would last the trip at least—to express my gratitude for all his sacrifices.

“How was your journey?” I asked Kiira as I bit into a hunk of cheese.

“Uneventful. Though every town we stopped in had something to ask of us,” Kiira replied smoothly .

Xannirin stabbed at his plate with more force than necessary. Rokath glanced between them, then looked at me.

“Something is definitely off,” I said quickly to my mate.

“Like what?” I asked her.

She spread some chive-filled butter across a roll. “Mostly prayers or aid. Though many had questions about the war.” She flicked her attention to Xannirin before nipping at the bread.

The Kral finally lifted his gaze and it speared straight into me. “I wasn’t aware peasants were allowed to dine at the high table, Rokath.”

Rage flooded our bond—and it wasn’t only from my mate. My lips curled back from my teeth. Rokath beat me to speaking, though.

“She is my mate .” The final word dripped with violent intent. “Therefore she is a member of House Vrak.”

Olet and Rapp held their breath as the two faced off. I glanced below, at the tables lined now with both soldiers and priestesses. None of them paid any attention to the war waging between the cousins.

A sneer rose to Xannirin’s face. He set his dining ware down and dabbed his mouth with a cloth. “Not until you wed.”

Rokath’s face turned a shade of red I hadn’t seen since our earliest fights. His hands shook as he dug his fingers into the table. “I do not need a ceremony to know she is mine.”

Kiira leaned over and whispered in my ear. “The Kral has final say in our marriages. It is the only real power he has over us.”

Could Xannirin really force Rokath to marry another despite our bond?

“I have always considered you a member of House Vrak. Do not worry, Assyria. We’ll sort this mess out.”

Kiira’s words were a balm, and I knocked my shoulder against hers in a silent thanks .

Xannirin stole our attention. “She’s no officer. She’s not of noble blood. She can sit with the rest of them.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the priestesses.

Olet kept his head pointedly down. Rapp shifted in his seat like the wood was burning him. Though the movement brought him closer to Kiira and me. Subtly, he reached under the table and rested a hand on her thigh.

Rapp and Kiira were close friends, as both had told me. But that gesture was more than friendly—it was a sign of unspoken support. Would Rapp take Kiira’s side in any matter against Xannirin? What if it contrasted against what Rokath wanted? And where did Kiira’s loyalties lie?

I’d grown accustomed to the dynamic between Rokath and Rapp, but Rokath and his cousins were an entirely different story.

“She remains here,” Rokath stated, more than a hint of challenge in his tone.

Xannirin’s regard settled over me again. I refused to bow under it. “Like it or not, My Kral, the Fates chose to bless the Halálhívó and I with a bond. And are the Fates not wise in their weavings?”

The words that had been used on me to force me to comply, to obey, to surrender my autonomy flung back at the male responsible for most of it.

A muscle feathered in his jaw. “It’s curious, is it not, how new symbols emerge from war?” He leaned in, his focus still entirely on me. “It’s a shame how the attention can be so deadly.”

And with that, he shoved back from the table, scattering the servers behind him. In quick, precise strides, he stalked from the room. Rokath leaped to his feet, but Olet grabbed his arm and yanked him back down. “Halálhívó, I believe following the Kral now would be unwise. ”

A wildfire of fury engulfed our bond as my mate stared at his cousin’s backside. Kiira reached for him, and he flinched at her touch on his arm. “Cousin, we have much to discuss. First, let’s eat. It’s been weeks since I had anything decent.”

Rokath softened at her gentle plea. With a long sigh, he turned his attention back to us. “Fine.”

I nudged him down our bond, offering my strength to him. Was I furious at Xannirin’s outlandish treatment of me? Of course. But right now, the best thing I could do was to support my mate.

After all, these were his cousins. He’d created all of this with them.

If I wanted to ensure Demon society changed for the better, I’d need to learn to play along.

Xannirin’s favorite game was kazat, according to Rokath.

I’d lay out my bets, coerce him into a challenge he couldn’t refuse.

I’d cheat victory to ensure he’d be forced to perform after his loss if I had to.

I glanced at the rows of females below. The utter joy that slipped through their veils warmed my heart and invigorated me.

I hadn’t set out from Stryi to become the figurehead of a movement. But now that I had? I’d burn everything down before I’d bend again.

And I would not let any of these females, or the rest scattered and suffering through the realm, down.