Page 29

KYRIE

I ’m happy.

Happier than I can remember being in a very long time.

I would nearly be blissful, were it not for the imminent threat of Sola raining hellfire down on us looming large in the future.

We spend our days preparing for her inevitable siege, knowing full well she’s headed here sooner rather than later.

Lara and Caedia and I train with Morrow and the Sword every morning, early, and though we’re all three improving, there’s no way we’ll be able to do more than defend ourselves if it comes to that. The warriors leave us to our own devices after lunch, spending their time shoring up the village wall defenses and overseeing the influx of Fae refugees, more of whom arrive every day.

If it comes to that, we’re doomed anyway.

Regardless, training is fun, in a masochistic sort of way. Lara and Caedia and I train with magic together after lunch, and Lara helps both of us channel our magic more effectively.

Caedia’s choking vines and poison blossoms are a hell of a lot more impressive than my magic. Han tries to speak to me in my mind, coaching me on how to use the power of truth to compel Caedia and Lara into action, but it doesn’t make much sense to me.

The power of truth is a fickle thing, it turns out.

So are dragons, and Han always leaves my mind with the distinct impressions of disgust and disdain. He isn’t a very good teacher, I’ve decided.

The Sword, however, is a great teacher. Patient, ready with praise or a quick correction, he makes all of three of us feel confident in our bodies and our abilities.

And he’s an even better caretaker.

Every night, when I’m ready to collapse into my dinner plate out of sheer exhaustion, he fills the copper tub in the rooms I’ve moved into with him full of steaming water.

Scented oils follow, and he always sets me in the tub to wash off the grime of the day. Afterward, he massages my sore muscles, rubbing down my arms and legs and shoulders with infinite skill and care, until all the knots in my muscles are loosened and all the bruises have been slathered with some kind of salve.

Most nights, we collapse into bed too tired to do more than snuggle and talk before falling asleep. The nights we aren’t too tired, he proves again and again he knows how to pleasure me best.

Every night there’s a fresh edge to the darkness, though, and we both know every morning is another day closer to when Sola might strike.

This morning is no different.

The sun streams through the window, one of Arek’s arms draped over my waist, the other under my head.

It’s getting easier to think of him as Arek. Something in him has softened, and Arek fits that.

Plus, he blushes slightly when I call him Arek, and that always makes me grin.

“It’s the waiting that’s starting to get to me,” I finally say out loud.

He grunts, pulling me tight against his body. “I know, my love.”

“What if we took the fight to her?” I ask, not for the first time. More like the twentieth.

“I know you’re ready to be done with this, Kyrie, but we are safest here. Strongest here. The castle is a fortress, and the wards here are ancient.” His thumb circles my hip, the simple touch sending pleasure through me.

“But what about all the people that aren’t here?” I ask quietly. “What about all the people that don’t have a fortress?”

He sighs, his breath warming the crook of my neck. “Patience is the best strategy we have for saving the most people. Our odds are better here.”

He presses a kiss to my neck and I sigh, knowing we need to get up.

Knowing it’s time to train.

To train, and to wait.

To wait, and to worry. I sigh, tired. On edge.

Tired of being on edge.

The air turns thick and I stiffen, then sit up.

Magic, a heavy cloud of it, rolls across my skin, and fear strikes deep in my heart.

An alarm bell sounds in the distance, the clanging burrowing down into my very bones.

Another bell, this one closer, begins to ring, and I turn to look at Arek with wide, scared eyes.

His face is grim, his mouth a thin line, and he nods once at me.

“It’s time.”

Shouts filter through the door, and we jump out of bed at the same time.

My heart squeezes as I pull on my favorite pair of tight leather leggings, and a shirt I had specially made in the village for fight training. It’s soft fabric and tight to the skin, so it won’t impede my movement.

A bandolier of knives straps round my waist, and I fit another longer dagger in a sheath at my thigh.

It takes me no time at all to get everything on, and gratitude swims through me at all the practice Arek and Morrow have put us through.

Maybe we’ll have a chance.

Maybe we aren’t doomed.

Hope lifts my spirits, just a little.

Sola is here, and we are ready. We’re going to defend this village and castle and people, and we very well might live to see another day.

I’m tugging on my boots as the door swings open, Shae bursting inside.

“Arek,” she gasps, her hand trembling on the door jamb. Her face is pale, almost greyish, her eyes wide and glassy.

“It will be alright,” Arek tells her, concern etching lines in his forehead. “Take a breath. You will go to the caverns under the castle. You’ll be safe there.”

He’s right, and the people of the village who aren’t fighters have been practicing retreating into the underground tunnels as quickly as possible.

Shae just gapes at us, though, her mouth opening and closing like she can’t find the right words to say.

“Shae,” the Sword says sharply.

I stand up, crossing the room to the other woman.

Something is wrong.

Something other than the fact we’re under attack.

“What is it?” I grip the other woman’s shoulders, giving her a little shake. “Talk to me.”

My power unfurls at the command, and Shae blinks at me, some of her color returning.

Relief washes through me—until she speaks.

“They took Tarron,” she whispers.

I freeze, my blood turning to ice in my veins.

“Who took him?” My mate’s voice is deadly, and it’s not Arek I hear, but the Sword, death’s hand itself.

“Dario,” Caedia appears in the doorway, her green skin ashen. “Dario took him. He betrayed us. He left a letter.”

Her hands shake, and she holds out a scrap of parchment. I take it, bile rising in my throat.

Ink bleeds across the creamy paper, a dark blot at the bottom. I read it out loud, my hands shaking.

Sola demands a Fae sacrifice. I’m bloodsworn to her.

I’m sorry.

Forgive me.

—Dario

A red haze fills my vision, and heat replaces the ice in my veins, my throat burning with the need to do something. To find Tarron.

“There’s something else,” Caedia whispers.

My eyes scan the parchment, finding the small print on the bottom, what I mistook for an ink blot at first.

The sacrifice will make her unstoppable. We took the tunnels beneath the wall. She will perform the sacrifice at high noon, when the sun is at its peak in the sky.

“They’re going to kill him,” Shae sobs. “My only grandchild.”

Arek clasps her shoulder. “Look at me,” he says.

His voice is steel.

She does as he bids, turning to him.

“We aren’t going to let this happen.”

“How?” Shae asks, wringing her hands. Caedia leans against the wall, sorrow aging her.

“Kyrie and the rest of us. We will finish this. Sola’s hours are numbered.”

“High noon,” I repeat.

“ Are you ready, golden tongue? ” Han’s voice ricochets through the chaotic mess of my mind. “ It’s time. ”

“Han says it’s time.” Time for what, I don’t fucking know.

But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let little Tarron be killed, the same as my brothers were.

Absofuckinglutely not.

“Let’s go,” I tell Arek. “We have a god to kill.”

The words are laced with truth, and that, more than anything, seems to stiffen Shae’s shoulders.

“Go to his mother,” I tell her. “Get to the caverns, and wait.”

She nods at me, then at Arek, whose expression could freeze steam.

Caedia moves to leave too, and I whip my attention to her.

“You were closest to him,” I say, and she flinches as though I’ve struck her. “Did you know?”

The question is laden with power, though I have no idea how, and I see the moment it hits her. Caedia’s shoulders sag, her head lolling slightly.

I grimace. That’s not what I meant to do.

“I didn’t know.” She all but collapses back against the wall, her chest heaving.

“Truth,” I tell the Sword. He’s staring at me with narrowed eyes, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“How did you do that?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I say, waving my hand in irritation. “We’re wasting time. What’s the plan?”

A troubled look crosses his face, and I want to scream at him to hurry up, but I know better.

I shift my weight, forcing myself to wait.

“She needs an innocent Fae to sacrifice.” He rubs his chin.

I swallow an exasperated sigh. Being a snarky bitch won’t help, and it won’t even make me feel better, so I don’t say shit.

I just wait.

Wait, and think, while Tarron is terrified. An innocent Fae, one whose immortal life is too short to have been tainted by any evil.

Fae.

My eyes widen, and I search my memories for the past weeks I’ve spent here, in my new body.

“She doesn’t need Tarron,” I say, my voice breaking. “Not specifically.”

I don’t say the rest out loud, though, my mate’s face still puzzled.

She could use me.

And then I run. I run as fast as my Fae legs will take me, and I feel Han’s approval ringing as loud as the keep’s bells in my mind.

“You’ve learned quickly, golden tongue,” the dragon says.

I can feel him, whatever strange bond we forged drawing me to him like a magnet.

My boots echo on the stone corridor.

Arek’s bellowing my name behind me, the pain in his voice breaking something deep in my chest, our mate bond physically hurting as he tries to reel me back in.

But I’ve decided.

I couldn’t save my brothers that day.

A dark shape looms outside the arched window at the end of the hallway, and I don’t hesitate.

I speed up, racing to a destiny I spent my whole life running away from.

Glass shatters as I launch myself through the castle window, and for a long moment, I’m in freefall.

Still, there’s no doubt in my mind, Han’s conviction strengthening my own.

The air escapes my lungs as his talons wrap around my chest, and I struggle to suck in another breath, dizzy from the impact.

The castle and town grow small beneath my feet. Han’s wings beat against the sky, loud enough to drown out the shouts and alarm bells below.

I swallow hard, refusing to cry from the one sound I can still make out.

The Sword, my Arek, screaming my name.

I have always been a sacrifice to Sola, though, and I’m ready to face her now.

I cannot take another innocent child’s death on my conscience.

I won’t.