Page 95 of Horns of Wicked Ebony (Deathcaller Duet #2)

A ssyria’s half-finished throne stared at me as I sank onto the floor of the weapons storage.

Rapp settled across from me, meeting my gaze for the briefest of moments before turning his focus to the pile of feathers and bone.

Assyria perched on a workbench, her long hair unbound, sleep still clinging to her eyes.

Yet dark glee brightened them as I twisted the legs about, deciding what needed additions next.

“This one is too short. Better to save it for the back,” Rapp commented, examining an arm bone from one of our more recent attacks.

“Aye,” I agreed, plucking it from him and placing it among a different pile. The adhesive was nearly ready—a mix of sap, boiled hooves, and raw sugar that became clear when dried, leaving the bones perfectly white and ready to intimidate any Angels who foolishly requested a meeting with me.

Let them kneel before the chair built from their fallen and know it was primal devotion that laid the first bone.

I couldn’t wait for the first time the Zahal crawled out of his hive, begging for a reprieve from our next assault.

The fury that would twist his face as he beheld my mate and me lounging atop the remnants of his soldiers.

Another Myrza skull would certainly polish off Assyria’s throne, though it wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying as the one from the female Ishim had loved adorning one side of mine.

“What’s that smell?” Zurronar asked, his nose wrinkling as he entered the space. Even with the doors flung wide, the sour scent of the adhesive was pungent. Banand offered us salutes, and Zurronar hastily mimicked him.

“At ease,” I told them, dipping the flat stick into the mix and giving it one last stir. Rapp held the first section upright, twine keeping the bones exactly how I wanted them.

“I have a challenge for you. Take a seat.”

Assyria scooted over to give them room along the far wall.

Zurronar shot her a wink, and she made a face at him in return.

Gritting my teeth against the overprotective beast, I dug the stick into the canister and slathered the first scoop across the bottom.

The thick goop dripped onto the threadbare cloth beneath our knees, immediately beginning to harden.

Rapp lifted the section ever so slightly off the ground to ensure it didn’t permanently stick.

“You can begin,” I told Assyria down our mental connection.

“How has your relationship with Araquiel developed over the past few months since you’ve been back in the Demon camp?” Assyria asked Banand, straight to the point. I kept an eye on his reaction.

Something flashed across his face, though he managed to smooth it away quickly. “She is our captive, and understandably, she’s unhappy about the situation.”

“Would more freedom make her happy?” I questioned. Another thick layer of adhesive went over the middle, and carefully, I removed the twine there.

“I think it would,” he ventured, his words slow and measured. “I’m assuming there’s a price for it? ”

I paused my work and looked straight at him. “You’ve been on our last few raids. What do you think the price is?”

His fingers drummed against his biceps. “You want her to help us.”

Zurronar shifted his weight, crossing one leg over the other. His attention flickered to Banand before he pointedly studied my work.

“She might run off with them if we bring her on a mission like that straight from being shackled,” I replied. “As you said, she is unhappy being a prisoner of war. Which is where you come in.”

Rapp tested the bottom and middle sections of the bones to ensure they were dry enough that removing the top bits of twine wouldn’t send the whole thing falling apart. With a tug, he freed them. I scooped more adhesive and painted it across.

Silence reigned until I stuck the stick back in the container.

“What can I do?” Banand ventured, his tone tipping into eagerness.

Assyria twisted her ring around her finger as she regarded him. “You know her best. What would make her switch allegiance?”

Zurronar let out a sigh, running his hands over his long hair and straightening the leather strap holding it atop his head. “Tell them, Banand.”

The adhesive dripped straight onto the cloth as my hand paused midair. Rapp whipped his head over his shoulder, staring at the pair too.

Banand’s face was nearly as red as his eyes as he glared at Zurronar. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t start this again,” Zurronar shot back. His body tensed, like he was preparing to fight his friend.

The two remained in a faceoff, the room at a complete standstill, until three caws rent the air, and three black crows sailed by the open doors.

Assyria sucked in a sharp breath.

“Whatever you are about to say, it is important,” she whispered. Then she tore her attention to me. “Kiira said the caws and crows are the Fates at work. They might be the crossroads where her visions could change.”

Fuck.

But it all made perfect sense. All the times I’d heard crows since Assyria came into my life roared back—when she was bitten by the snake, when I rode out to meet the Angels to trade for her life, when Blaeze returned to us, during my conversation with Kiira and Xannirin, before the blessing of the mates…

“Tell them,” Zurronar urged again. “Or better yet, show them.”

“Show us what?” I growled, my tone leaving no room for argument. I surged to my feet, the throne forgotten. Rapp, thankfully, kept it upright, though his knuckles were as white as the structure he gripped.

Banand glanced among us all, muscle ticking in his jaw.

Fingers clenched and unclenched. “There was a time,” he whispered, but his voice was like a whistling blade through the pregnant silence.

“Where I prayed for anything else. For a way out of what the Fates had given me. When we were imprisoned, I’d begged the Weaver for a new path. This wasn’t what I meant.”

A haunted expression claimed Zurronar’s face before he shook it off.

Then, with lips curled back from his teeth, Banand whipped around and yanked his tunic overhead.

Assyria gasped, her hands slapping over her mouth. Bones clattered like a judgmental echo of the dead .

Because between his shoulder blades was a perfect black circle.

Exactly the same as the one between Assyria’s. Between mine.

“Araquiel is your mate?” I questioned because I had to be absolutely fucking sure.

He shrugged his tunic on and fell into the wall like offering the truth hadn’t gutted him. He seared Zurronar with another hateful look. “She is.” The tension in his voice was even more evident than the tension in his posture.

“Fuck, Kiira needs to hear this,” Rapp croaked. He leaped to his feet and jogged to the stairs. I couldn’t agree more, even if I was still pissed she was leaving with him. And that he was the one fetching her.

Never had I heard of such a pairing in all our histories.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” I snarled, heat licking up my spine. “Are you still loyal to the Demons, Banand?”

“For this reason,” he snapped back, anger yanking him to his feet.

All formal pretense vanished. “Of course I’m fucking loyal to the Demons.

I suffered for months, protecting our people.

You wouldn’t have trusted me if I’d told you when you rescued us.

Besides, I’ve fought it since the moment it happened. ”

I whirled on Zurronar. “You kept this hidden too. Who else knew?”

“Just me. None of the others who were with us the day it happened survived, I swear,” he said, raising his hands in surrender.

“It was months after the plague began. She was new to the unit that was charged with guarding us. She ensured no one ever saw the mark on him either when they stripped him. It would have been just as dangerous for Araquiel to be discovered too. ”

I took a threatening step forward, but Assyria pinned me with a glare. “He has a point. But,” she paused, turning her wrath on the two, “I saw Araquiel without clothes when I was trying to become her. She bore no mark.”

Banand hung his head, unable to meet her gaze. “Did you put shackles on her yourself?”

“No,” I ground out, heat gripping my neck and shoulders. “Why?”

“She’s an incredibly powerful Sensor. If you didn’t put them on yourselves, she probably used her magic to trick whomever thought they did. Then kept influencing everyone to ensure they still thought she had them on,” Banand explained, his shoulders slumping inward

I didn’t think. Just lunged like a venomous snake. I gripped him by the throat and shoved him backward. Metal clattered from the collision. “All this time, you left us exposed? Left the camp at risk?”

“I put some on the moment I realized she wasn’t actually wearing anything!” he protested, his complexion deepening into a midnight purple. “That is reason enough to give me the benefit of the doubt, is it not?”

Shadows slammed into the crook of my arm, forcing me to release him. I ripped my attention to my mate, whose magic licked up my torso and clamped like a collar. Tight. Possessive. Deadly.

“So whose side is she on then?” Her interrogation was sharper than the blades scattered around us.

“I don’t know. Not exactly the Angels. Not exactly ours. Obviously, the Angels want to exterminate us, which would mean me included. There are no exceptions in their plans,” he coughed, clutching the workbench for support.

I forced myself to put space between me and the two near-traitors so I didn’t fucking kill them .

Rapp and Kiira burst into the weapons storage, my cousin’s eyes wide and lips parted. “Is it true? You have an Angel mate? And three crows flew by?” Her brows creased as she studied the scene before her. Assyria surrendered her bind around me.

“Yes,” Banand hissed, jerking his shirt up high enough to flash the High Priestess his mate mark.