Page 76 of Horns of Wicked Ebony (Deathcaller Duet #2)

The Myrza thrashed wildly against the bronze chains binding him to the chair. More strangled sounds spit through the gag, and instead of hate, pure, unfiltered fear filled his eyes.

Much, much better.

The primal beast in me purred at the sight. Nothing made me feel more in control than drawing that raw emotion out. And right now, after almost losing Assyria again, I needed that.

The sharp tip pressed in, slicing through the fabric clinging to his thighs. His cries increased, but he stilled.

“What’s that? You’re ready to talk?” I mocked.

He nodded vigorously. I didn’t move the dagger.

He made another noise that sounded a lot like “please” in the common tongue. Calling upon my shadows again, I worked the buckle open. Before the metal in his mouth slackened, I shoved onyx tendrils inside, blocking his ability to chomp his tongue in half.

It wouldn’t have been the first time one attempted such a trick.

I removed the bit, then cocked a brow. “So, why are the Angels gathering at the wall? What is the Zahal’s plan?”

“I only know that I was sent here to eliminate your most powerful magic wielders,” he gasped out in the common tongue.

I forced my expression to remain cold and detached. How the fuck did they know about that? Banand and Zurronar had mentioned the torture the new recruits had endured, which is how they knew about Assyria. They must have gotten this information out of them too.

“That’s not good enough,” I replied coolly, dagger biting deeper. A blot of ruby welled up on his white pants.

“Stop! Wait! I’ll tell you,” he half-sobbed.

The blade halted, still pressed into his skin.

“A Seer told us we had to spread out along the wall,” he gasped. “She saw a great, bloody battle in the mountains. Said if we wanted to win, we needed to change our tactics.”

Interesting.

Kiira’s new vision contrasted whatever the Goddess had offered this female. Yet it was known that Angel prophecies were conjecture and interpretation at best. If the Goddess had offered her this scene, it was a venomous presage, not a saccharine omen.

The Demons would claw a victory from those peaks, one that would lead to the moment Kiira had seen of Assyria and me in Sivy.

“Is the Zahal calling on reinforcements for this?” I pressed. It was what I would have done—had done.

He nodded vigorously. “That’s why I was sent here. He wants to weaken you further while he gathers more. Saw what you did with your numbers and wants to recreate it.”

Of course he did. The fucking leech couldn’t think for himself. It wasn’t the first time he’d taken my tactic and then turned it against me. By now, he should have learned it never worked.

His arrogance was why our historians would etch my name in their books, laud my prowess in battle, and his would disappear into the ether, lost to time.

A knock on the door stole my attention before I could continue my interrogation. “Enter,” I called out, twisting to see who dared intrude when I was in the flow.

Again.

Olet appeared in the doorway. “You wanted to see me?”

My annoyance dissipated. With protesting knees, I rose, the dagger squelching as I removed it from the Myrza’s thigh. A sob choked with relief escaped him. Until I gave the two Vezet? a new command. “See what else you can get out of him. Then kill him. ”

“No!” the Angel shouted, and the Vezet? chuckled darkly.

Grabbing new tools, they flanked him. Panic held his eyes open, but I didn’t deign to offer him more of my time.

With a jerk of my head, I motioned for Assyria to join us.

She shot one last glare at the Myrza, her assessing eyes searing one last look into her memory, and then ducked under my arm and into the hall again.

His scream was cut short when I closed the door behind us. Olet paced a small circle there, picking his head up at our arrival.

“The time has come for us to leave,” I told him.

The grimness in the set of his jaw mirrored my own internal experience. “What of Hadvezér Trol?”

“He’s alive, so far as I know. He sent a raven warning us of the attack. It arrived only a little while ago.”

Olet snorted and shook his head. “A little too late.”

I grunted my agreement. “He did request our presence at the front again. The Angels are splitting their forces, and he is following. According to that fucking fanatic, they’re spreading along the wall because one of their Seers told them there was to be a bloody battle there.”

Olet shifted from foot to foot. “We haven’t had nearly enough time. Especially not with the females.”

I blew out a long breath. “I know.”

“I think they demonstrated that they can hold their own,” Assyria added. She swayed on her feet. Dark circles lined her eyes, and I wanted to get her to bed immediately. Flattening my palm on her lower back, I offered her support.

“What were our losses?” I asked Olet, my stomach tightening. The aftermath of every battle came with conversations that were tough to chew.

Olet rubbed the back of his neck. “Too many. A few thousand. ”

The muscles in my neck bulged with how hard I gritted my teeth. “Fuck.”

His arm dropped to his side, and a heavy sigh followed. “Many more were wounded. Most should be able to travel within a few days though.”

I looked up at the ceiling as if the Fates had written all the future paths there. “Start preparing everyone to leave. We’ll move out in three days. We can spare no more.”

“Aye, I’ll see to it immediately,” Olet affirmed. Like Assyria, he looked exhausted.

“Walk with us. We need to find Hadvezér Rapp and discuss more of our plans,” I told Olet, striding toward the stairs that led up from the dungeon. I’d check on our prisoner later, see if the Vezet? yanked any more information out of him.

He followed, matching my quick clip. The remainder of his post-action report he relayed by the time we reached the landing. There, we went our separate ways.

“I’ll escort you to our tower, but then I need to go to my office,” I told Assyria. Because before I could speak with the rest of the officers, I needed to write to Xannirin. This would be the test of his commitment to our new plans.

“Okay,” she sighed, too tired to protest. “You’ll come back soon right?”

“I promise.” When we reached the door leading to the spiral stairs, I opened it for my mate. “You did so well today. You and the females. I think the rest of the army will see that quickly too.”

She offered me a soft smile. “I hope so.” Then, she disappeared up the spiral. The sentries stationed on either side still had blood on their armor and cuts drying on their faces. In an uncharacteristic moment, I thanked them for their duty.

Each stared at me as if I’d grown a second head. Sighing, I left them behind, the trek passing in a blur as I mentally drafted the message I would write my cousin.

We needed additional aid, and quickly. The Angel’s advance, spreading like a rot through the realm, left no room for mercy.

Not for them. Not for Xannirin.

We thought we were preparing soldiers for war here; we were already inside it.

No longer was this a game of strategy. This was divine prophecy, holy vengeance, and sacrificial fire.

Yet the walls of our carefully constructed temple were cracking.

To protect Assyria, to protect the Demons, I’d rip apart the nobility, drag their power into service, and flood the front with bodies.

Not all of us would survive what came next. A great sacrifice awaited us somewhere in the future.

And I would not let Assyria fall. But something deep inside me whispered that the Angels weren’t the only ones spreading ruin.