Page 90 of Horns of Wicked Ebony (Deathcaller Duet #2)

“ T he scouts have spotted Angels here, here, and here,” Trol said, moving pieces of stone around the map on the table.

“Which means they’re likely going to try to breach our holds in these outposts,” I reasoned, tapping three spots between our current location and Uzhhorod.

If they’d speared so far south already, they were moving quickly.

Which meant we needed to as well. “And they were all clustered in those groups? Nothing more?”

“No,” Rapp replied, tongue working over the rings in his lips as he studied the board with us.

We’d sent everyone else away so we could focus on how to divide the battalions and ensure the survival of the Demon race.

“I flew out with one of the scouts early this morning to see the closest group for myself. They seem like they’re priming for a three pronged attack. ”

I opened my mouth to admonish him for pushing himself but he shot me a glare. “I am fine. My chest held up fine. Honestly I feel almost back to normal now. All the pium worked its magic.”

“Good.” A bit of tension bled from my chest. Because the last thing I wanted was to throw Rapp into a battle on his own, unable to swing a sword, pull a bow, or fly through the air. His knowledge and skill in aerial battle was paramount now that we were among the jagged peaks.

The words I needed to say still sat heavy on my tongue. “We need to split up again.”

Rapp and Trol picked their gazes up from the table. “Unfortunately, you’re right,” Rapp sighed, sinking into a chair. “I don’t see any other way around it. Which means they’re planning something.”

“Since they were able to wipe out a large section when we split last time, Zahal Ishim must think he can have success with the maneuver again,” I grumbled. He was a fucking horsefly that needed to be squashed before it could attempt to bite again.

“Aye,” Trol affirmed. He dragged the marker that indicated his position to the closest one. “I’ll take a smaller section here. With my magic, it will be easier to herd the Angels in a way that makes them easier to kill. You’ll need larger forces closer to Uzhhorod.”

He wasn’t wrong. “We’ll set some traps along the way. Help pick off the more powerful groups to aid you.”

“Thank you,” he replied, his focus still on the map. “With the females and other magic wielders from Fured spread evenly, that should help quell any protests about who goes where.”

“I’ll take the ones still harboring resentments with me.

If they don’t get on board with the plan, they can become my puppets on the battlefield,” I groused, pinching the bridge of my nose.

At least after our display, the males had quietened.

The females, despite the dropping temperatures, strutted around with their sleeves rolled up, their devious eye tattoos on full display.

On my way in, I’d even seen one of the Vezet? sporting one .

Rapp snorted, shaking his head. “The peaks are highest and most dangerous near Uzhhorod. I’ll take that section. If you don’t mind, I’ll also need more of the fliers.”

“Take as many as you need,” I told him. The three spots we were guessing the Angels would go to were spread at odd intervals along the wall, and unfortunately, Trol would be the farthest away again.

But with the positions Rapp and I would hold, we’d be so fucking close to Sivy.

Should we beat the Angels back, we’d be primed to take the city.

Kiira’s vision would come to pass. This would finally end, and I could enjoy the rest of my life with Assyria.

“What if they backtrack and try to take out Trol’s position since he’ll be the furthest from aid?” I threw out, wanting to check my logic.

“They could, but then they’d descend straight into the Paks Desert, and that path would not serve them to reach Uzhhorod,” my Hadvezér commented. He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “Unless they took the wall and marched south along it, to pin your groups.”

“So we need to watch out for that to happen,” I mused. “How many mated pairs do we have now?”

A wry grin spread across Trol’s face. “You’ll never believe what I’m about to say.”

I raised a brow, glancing at Rapp. He sat up straighter, focus trained on the other Hadvezér.

“By all means, speak,” I prodded. Whatever information he possessed, it was clearly important.

“We got about a dozen new pairs in the last few days.” His words robbed me of air.

“You’re joking,” Rapp shot back. We shared a look like we couldn’t decide if he was pulling a mean prank for us leaving him alone so often.

Trol shook his head, still sporting a smug expression. “I am grateful that I’m not. Ask the High Priestess. She’ll tell you exactly what she told me—that it is a sign from the Fates that they want to ensure our victory.”

I sat there, stunned to silence. All this time, these priestesses were serving beneath Kiira, and all these males beneath me.

We’d always struggled to communicate over such large distances.

And now that we’d brought the sexes together, one of our largest issues had been solved.

Sure, the male pairs had been useful, but there were far fewer bonds granted by the Fates than male and female pairings.

Is this how the Angels were able to coordinate so easily?

I cursed myself for not thinking of this solution sooner. And Xannirin for suggesting we subjugate females in the first place. I knew why we’d shaped society the way we had—and this only confirmed to me that we were in fact walking the right path.

The ability to speak finally returned to me. “How many others know of this?”

Trol lifted a shoulder. “Those who were around perhaps. It’s not quite the level of gossip like you and the Szélhámos were, from my understanding of what the new recruits have told me.”

“We need to make it a bigger deal,” I pronounced, my mind working on how to play into this to motivate the army. “As part of the new orders, they’ll come to the stage so Kiira can bless them. We’ll leave out the part of having to split them up and tell them that after.”

My heart clenched at the thought of parting from Assyria, especially over the distance it would require. And so soon after their bonds snapped into place. But it was a necessary step. “They can have private rooms to themselves until we leave since it will be a…painful goodbye.”

Almost involuntarily, I rubbed the spot where my magic rested. Rapp offered me a look of sympathy. I glared back .

“Who thought you’d find empathy somewhere inside you?” he teased, thumbing his lip.

“I never found it because I don’t have it,” I groused. Trol barked a laugh. “Not you too.”

“You have changed for the better, Rokath.” Trol dropped into his seat, and with a grumble, I sat too.

From the edge of the table, he pulled a pitcher of water brimming with pium leaves and poured us all drinks.

Not quite the alcohol we would have shared if we were anywhere else, but the symbolism was there nonetheless.

Raising his mug, he said, “Assyria is your perfect match. It’s been an honor seeing the changes in her from our first meeting to now. You are truly blessed by the Giver.”

I clinked the rim of the metal cup against his. “I am indeed.”

Rapp added his to the mix. “It took you long enough to get there. But seeing the two of you work together now…it is something to behold.”

My chest ached for an entirely different reason as I took a long drink.

With the miracle leaves, it was refreshing, invigorating, and aided in breathing at such high altitudes.

Not to mention when ground and mixed into a potion, it aided all Demon’s innate healing abilities. It was why Rapp still lived.

I’d never been more grateful for a plant.

“So it’s settled then. Rapp will take the southernmost position with a group of fliers.

I’ll take the middle with the largest force on the ground, including all those who silently oppose the changes.

Trol will take the northernmost position with enough halves of mated pairs to ensure messages get to both of us if he needs help. ”

I glanced between the two, who both nodded their agreement.

“Then we’d better start adjusting and preparing to leave. With the Angels this close to the wall and Uzhhorod, we can’t spare any more days.”

Snowdrops dotted Assyria’s ebony braid as she finished readying herself for the ceremony. I sat on our bed, drinking in the sight of my mate.

Mate.

The word struck me like a punch to the gut. After everything I’d done, everything I’d been through, the Fates had still seen to weave me my perfect match.

And she was so much more than that. She was my reason for fighting, the reason I slept at night. She was the haven I returned to time and time again when the weight of my duty dragged me down. The way she had blossomed into the Szélhámos brought me to my knees, ready to worship at her fabled feet.

I craved her every touch, every smile, every spark of fire in her eyes. Even her sharp tongue with those defiant words that ignited a savage blaze in my blood.

She was not a weapon. She was the war itself. A force that should be feared and revered in equal measure. And I would be the male at her side to cut down any who thought otherwise.

So when she faced me, cheeks flushed with excitement, wispy strands of ebony framing her high cheekbones, I was rooted in place. Awestruck that she was mine—in this moment, in all the moments to come.

“What?” she asked, her head tilting to the side.

I wanted to speak, but my lips wouldn’t move. She approached, the sway of her hips tugging on the strings of my sanity. Somehow, I managed to capture her waist and bring her body flush against mine .

“I don’t tell you nearly enough how blessed I am to have you,” I rasped, running my nose along her neck and inhaling her scent. Roses and berries filled my nostrils—a smell I’d willingly drown in, so long as I died knowing it was my mate.