Page 45 of Horns of Wicked Ebony (Deathcaller Duet #2)

More magic materialized as she faced off with the female. The second leaped forward, only to freeze in midair. She blinked but remained suspended while Maariya stared at her, brow furrowed in concentration.

“That is Izzenna. While she is newer to the priestesses, she quickly made her mark. She was our second volunteer,” Kiira said by way of introduction.

Maariya continued to hold Izzenna in place. Sweat beaded her forehead. The Százados gave her an order to release her magic. With a whoosh of breath, she did. Izzenna stumbled forward, and Maariya caught her. Both grinned widely as they turned to me.

“I need only a small amount of my blood to touch another to be able to hold them in place,” Maariya explained. “I hope to be able to hold more and for longer after training my magic.”

“You have an incredible talent. The Giver certainly blessed you,” I replied.

Light pink dusted her cheeks, and she stepped to the side to allow Izzenna to demonstrate her magic.

“They already worship you,” Kiira said under her breath. “The mythos of you will spread quickly after this.”

The idea both excited and terrified me. I didn’t have long to examine the emotions before the air shimmered in front of Izzenna. A scream ripped from Maariya’s throat, and her hands clamped over her mouth.

“Nightmares,” I murmured, awed by Izzenna’s careful concentration.

“Vivid ones too,” Kiira replied like she knew from experience .

The Százados gave the females fours in both of their categories after Izzenna’s demonstration was complete.

The two curtseyed to Kiira and me again before continuing onto the line of priestesses waiting for their measurements.

The majority of females, as far as I could see, had eyes of blood, cherry, and ruby, all powerful enough to hold their own with magic, even if our bodies were smaller and less capable of heavy blows than the males.

“They work so well together already,” I commented, surveying how they paired up to demonstrate their powers when necessary.

“We may not wield blades—at least up until now—but we’ve always collaborated to elevate souls and aid suffering,” Kiira explained.

It made sense. They were a cohesive unit like the army.

And the detractors like Priestess Anara, who had ruled the school and temple in Stryi with a firm hand, were the exception.

Just like the males who refused to see these females as deserving of a chance to serve their realm too.

Every volunteer Kiira brought forth spoke with enthusiasm in her voice, profusely thanking me for the opportunity to become a warrior.

Unveiled grins abounded as they let their power flourish, then stepped aside to let their sisters do the same.

The thousands of females streamed through the process with smooth efficiency until only a few groups remained in the wings, awaiting their turns.

“Kiira, how did you manage all of this?” I asked her. With the short time between Rokath’s raven and the returning message, I was in awe of the number who had volunteered.

She raked her teeth over her bottom lip, gaze trained forward.

“For a long time, I’d been unhappy with my position.

But I shoved it all aside for the greater good.

So much time had passed, in fact, that I hardly remembered I felt that way at all.

Until you.” Then, she faced me, determination shining in her eyes. “You reminded me of life before.”

My eyebrows shot up my forehead. “Really?”

“Really,” she repeated. “I started working on plans of my own shortly after you left.”

I sensed there was information she was holding back, but I didn’t press her for more. The training area, crowded with priestesses and soldiers alike, was not the place to discuss such political matters. Not when the cousins had always been so secretive about their plans.

I glanced up at the clock hammered into a nearby tower, noting that our midday meal—and prayer—was almost upon us.

Rokath returned moments before the gong struck. “High Priestess, if you would please join me in leading the traditional army ritual today.”

“Actually, I think I should lead,” I said, lifting my chin. “I am the Szélhámos.”

Pride bloomed down our bond. “Aye, that you are.”

“Of course, the Szélhámos should lead,” Kiira grinned. “I am happy to stand with two mighty warriors as you conduct prayers.”

The three of us faced outward again, and around us, the soldiers—of both sexes—fell silent, waiting for their next direction.

Rolling my shoulders back, I strode out to the middle of the training arena.

Rokath and Kiira framed me, and all the priestess-turned-warriors fell to their knees, accustomed to the time of day.

The males who had retreated to the fringes and the grandstand did the same.

Rokath yanked a blade from his side, the bronze glinting in the sunlight, and handed it to me.

I dragged in a deep breath. I’d done this before, and I could do this again.

Raising the dagger and my hand, I yelled, “ Weaver, who spins the threads of our fates, lay down the path for us to tread, unyielding and unbroken. We walk at your command, our feet bound by the threads you have woven. Guide us to glory as we march beneath the banner of war. For the Kral, for the Halálhívó, these new soldiers will bleed. Bind our fates to theirs, so that we may rise victorious.”

Blood welled on my palm as I sliced deep, offering a healthy sacrifice to the Fates. Rokath held out his hand, and I offered him the blade to do the same.

His cut was no shallower than my own. Yet he utterly shocked me when he spoke, squeezing his fist and letting garnet cascade between his fingers.

“Not only for myself and the Kral do you bleed. Tie, too, your fate to the Szélhámos, that together we may slaughter our enemies and deliver a swift victory to the Demons.”

His words boomed around the arena, shaking it like an earthquake. The voice of the Halálhívó was meant to instill a healthy fear in all those who heard it.

With predatory slowness, he knelt. Yet each drop of his knee against the ground vibrated it with pure power. The hairs on the back of my neck rose as he pressed his palms flat against the stone.

I sank to the earth too, though I didn’t prostrate myself.

“Giver, bless us with abundant wells of magic so we wield in your name during battle. Let the blood we spill slake your thirst, and let us slaughter those who defy your design. Gift us with the power we need to bring majesty to your name. By our blood, we honor you.”

Then, I flattened my palms on the stone and pressed my forehead to the cool surface.

“By our blood, we honor you,” everyone echoed, masculine and feminine tones blending into one another as everyone offered a swipe of red to the Fates .

Rokath and I straightened simultaneously. Shoulder to shoulder with my mate, we surveyed the soldiers staring back at us.

Then, I spoke the final words to the prayer.

“Reaper, whose curse falls upon those who stray from the path, let us not taste your wrath. We offer this blood as a pledge of our loyalty. Let your eye wander elsewhere and damn those who question your mighty power. Should we sin, may your curse be swift and unrelenting.”

“We pledge our devotion to the Reaper.”

Thousands of voices echoed my veneration, the sound haunting me with how it continued to ring long after the words were uttered.

For a moment, the weight of their reverence settled over me.

I was to become a Fate to them. They weren’t here because they had to be; they were here because they chose to be.

Chose to relinquish their comfortable position as priestesses and snatch the chance to become a soldier.

So I offered a final, silent prayer of my own. “Let this change be welcomed with open arms. Let resistance fall away so that we might walk your divine path, Weaver.”

While I still questioned my faith, how much power the Fates truly held over this world, and continued to purge the lies I’d been fed my entire life, wishing for what I truly wanted would only elevate my energy for it and inspire others to do the same.

If the Fates did hear me, if they did take my plea into account, then our society would be all the better for it.

Kiira rose, drawing everyone’s attention. Her voice rang loud and clear through the expansive space. “Let the Halálhívó’s victory be swift and the Kral’s reign eternal. Let the Szélhámos guide us on a new path to righteousness. Our lives, our magic, our essence, are theirs to command.”

“We are theirs to command.” The conviction in the females’ voices sent a wave of confidence crashing through me.

Using only his immense legs, Rokath stood, towering over everyone still kneeling.

I surged to my feet beside him. “The Fates gave me the power to call upon the dead to do my bidding for a reason. To end the Angels and their relentless, fanatic pursuit of the extermination of the Demon race. Never forget what they will do in the name of that cause. It is, in fact, why you are all here. The losses we suffered recently were enormous. Your grit, determination, and magic can make the difference. We are allowing you an opportunity to prove yourselves. Do not waste it.”

A second gong pealed, yet they did not move as they stared up at the three of us. Once the sound ceased, Rokath spoke again. “Dismissed.”

With muted excitement, they straightened, whispering among themselves and gathering in small groups. Through the arched opening in the inner curtain, they streamed toward the commons. Males reformed around their longtime friends and followed.

The three of us lingered, observing their departure. Once the area had cleared out, we followed, keeping a healthy distance from them.

“What do you think, Halálhívó?” I asked, using my thumb to fiddle with the small garnet on my mother’s ring. I thought the displays of power had been impressive, especially the number of former priestesses who had significant mastery over their magic.

“Only time will tell,” he grumbled, his attention fixed straight ahead.

“So what happens after the meal then?” I asked as we entered the hall. Xannirin was notably absent from the high table. Rokath’s posture was stiff as he removed his helmet and sat down, glaring at the empty seat.

“We review their marks and start assigning them to units,” he replied. “Rapp should be able to help with that since the healer had ordered him to remain in bed for a few more days.”

Kiira and I shared a laugh at the Hadvezér’s expense. “I’m not sure all of us can fit in that tiny room,” Kiira added as two males appeared with our food.

“Well, he needs to stop fucking up his stitches if he wants to be out of it sooner,” Rokath stated, digging his fork into a small, steaming meat pie.

I shook my head and tucked into my meal. As I chewed, I surveyed the rest of the dining hall. Males sat with males, and females sat with females, each group competing for space around the long tables.

At least it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

Our entire plan hinged on integrating them and returning to the front as quickly as possible. As I stabbed into my food, I tried not to think of the consequences of us failing to do just that.