Page 168

55

C ora returned to the battlement she’d left not long ago, though now it stood empty. Teryn, his guards, and the enemy squad were nowhere to be seen. Yet sounds of fighting blared all around; she’d traded one active battlefield for another. Even though her destination lay at Centerpointe Rock, she needed to ensure Ridine was safe. That, and she’d promised to take Teryn with her when the time came to push the mora from the human world. It could be too dangerous for her to attempt the feat alone. If anything went sideways, if the mora overwhelmed her or she began to harness it when she was supposed to push it back, she could depend on Teryn to anchor her.

She peered over the parapet to find a sea of mist and blood. The mist came from the hazy figures of the warrior wraiths that swarmed the grounds, hacking down Darius’ fighters, their semi-transparent weapons making muted thuds against their opponents’ swords and armor.

Her archers shot arrows into the melee, picking off more of the enemy fighters one by one. The vicious, bloody fight turned her stomach, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel remorse. Not when the tides were in her favor.

Not when the win was hers.

Teryn had made the right call in choosing this battle as the wraiths’ final fight. With Darius’ men already inside the castle walls, Khero’s chances of victory would have been slim without them.

She hurried away from the parapet and entered the stairwell leading down from the battlement. Opening her senses, she sought Teryn’s location. To her relief, his energy pulsed back, not too far from where she was now. As she exited the stairwell, the clang of steel met her ears. She unsheathed her dagger—the only weapon on her person now that Darius had wrested her bow from her—and crept toward Teryn’s energy as well as the sounds of conflict.

She fled down the hall, noting bodies strewn here and there. Most of them belonged to the enemy squad, but one corpse at the end of the hall was a member of her royal guard.

Her heart clenched.

She rounded the corner at the end of the next corridor and finally caught sight of motion. Captain Alden was engaged in combat with one of Darius’ men, as were several more of her guards. Another bout took place down the next stairwell, the only sign being the clash of blades and the sway of the fighters’ shadows against the stone wall, cast by the light burning in the sconces.

Teryn’s energy pulsed from that direction.

Cora’s heart thundered as she rushed toward the stairwell, keeping close to the wall to evade the notice of the other fighters. Not that any were unoccupied enough to pay her much heed. She reached the top of the stairs, her dagger at the ready, and proceeded down on quick feet. She pulled up short at the sight of Teryn. He and one of Darius’ men were locked in armed combat. Blood covered one of Teryn’s shoulders, his gambeson split open to reveal crimson soaking the linen of his shirt. His left hand was wrapped in what looked like a torn piece of cloth.

Yet the enemy soldier bore wounds too. One eye was slashed and swollen, a gash on his cheek just beneath it. His helm was gone, as were several other pieces of his armor, but he fought relentlessly. Teryn had the high ground and pursued the man farther and farther down the stairs, but with Teryn standing between her and his opponent, his back facing her, there was nothing she could do to help?—

No, that wasn’t true at all.

She released a slow breath, anchored her feet on the stone beneath her, and poured her focus onto the blood-splattered stair behind the enemy. Without even bothering to close her eyes, she lifted a foot, leaned forward…

And planted her soles on the intended step.

Teryn’s eyes widened slightly when he spotted her, but he didn’t falter. He kept the man’s full attention as Cora swiped out with her dagger and slashed the backs of the man’s knees. With a grunt, his legs buckled. Cora retreated down a few steps and Teryn plunged his sword into the man’s throat.

Cora’s chest heaved as she watched the tip of the blade protrude from the back of the man’s neck. Teryn withdrew his sword, and the enemy crumpled onto the stairwell. Cora kept her eyes locked on Teryn, not the dying man or the pool of blood quickly slicking the stairs. Instead, she took in his face, the spatter of blood flecked over his skin, the wounds he’d sustained on his arms.

She sagged with relief to see him devoid of life-threatening injuries.

He assessed her with the same relieved intensity. Her name left his lips as he sheathed his sword. “Cora.”

She ran the rest of the way up the stairs to him, skirting around the man and the blood, until she collided with his chest, his arms around her. The discomfort of his hard breastplate against her cheek didn’t matter. Only he did.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and spoke into her hair. “This is the last of the soldiers who got inside the halls.”

She pulled away, knowing they didn’t have much time to waste. “The ambush has begun.”

“Majesty.” Alden appeared at the top of the stairs, followed by more of the royal guard.

It was then Cora heard the relative silence. The conflicts in the hallway above had ceased.

Alden gave her a knowing look. “Is it time?”

Captain Alden and the royal guard knew what came next. Knew what Cora had promised to do. Cora gave her a solemn nod. As much as Cora wanted to wait until every enemy fighter was felled, she couldn’t linger. Not if she wanted to fulfill her vow to Ailan and lock Darius out of El’Ara.

“Our victory is secure,” Alden said, tone brimming with confidence. “We will finish this.”

Teryn and Cora exchanged a glance. If they left now, Teryn would need to call off the wraiths. They couldn’t risk leaving them to fight without Teryn’s guidance. When they’d served Morkai, they hadn’t seemed to care who they killed, only that they fought.

“You can depend on us,” Alden said.

“Let’s go, then.” Teryn sheathed his sword and extended his uninjured palm toward Cora.

She grasped his hand, gave it a squeeze, and worldwalked them back to the battlement. The conflict was quieter now, and as they looked over the wall at the castle grounds, they found only a few groups engaged in combat, some with soldiers from the garrison, others with the wraiths. Misty white continued to fill the field, but most of the wraiths had ceased fighting. Those who’d already been felled were unable to reanimate and had returned to their mindless meandering.

Regardless, Alden was right. The victory was already theirs; Cora could trust her soldiers to end this.

Teryn stepped closer to the parapet and unwrapped the bandage from around his palm. An angry red line marred his skin, but it wasn’t actively bleeding. He held his hand out, palm to the air, and whispered, “At ease. Your battle is won. Your vengeance secure.”

The wraiths stilled on the field. Some disappeared at once, while others simply lost their bloodlust and proceeded to slowly wander.

“When I call you next,” Teryn said, “it will be to send you home.”

He faced her then, nodding. This was all they could do for Ridine right now. Their next task lay at Centerpointe Rock.

Again, Cora took his hand. Closing her eyes, she pictured a large flat stone amidst a sea of green.

Even after five hundred years, Ailan’s body remembered how to fight. Her limbs moved in fluid motions, even as her muscles screamed. The rhythm of battle was ingrained in her bones, and with the return of her youth and memories came everything she’d ever learned long ago.

Warfare and violence weren’t the most treasured arts amongst the Elvyn, but they were necessary for a future Morkara to learn. And learn she did, her training thorough. It had come to good use during the war with her brother so many centuries ago.

Unfortunately, what was true for her was true for Darius too.

He fought like death incarnate, with the advantage of unfamiliar human combat techniques paired with his worldwalking abilities. He was always escaping the swing of her sword, evading lethal blows and exchanging them for shallow wounds, if any. His lips remained peeled in a taunting grin as they dueled, his attacks unwavering.

But she didn’t give up, even as her body grew weary. She kept her mind sharp, attuned to the whispers of her weavings. While she’d waited inside the Veil for the signal that Darius had arrived, she’d constructed a truthweaving, seeking guidance for success.

She hadn’t heard a thing in response until the battle with Darius had begun.

Now they whispered to her.

Told her where to turn.

Alerted her of Darius’ next move.

Even so, the battle felt endless.

When would her whispers guide her to land a killing blow? When would they shout, teasing out a weakness in Darius’ defenses? When would she have the ideal opportunity to end him?

Sweat slicked her brow and dripped into her eyes as the softest, quietest whisper answered her question.

You won’t.

You won’t.

You won’t .

It should have filled her with dread. It should have frozen her under a blanket of foreboding.

But it didn’t.

She’d suspected for a while now that she wasn’t meant to be the hero in this war with Darius. The prophecy had said so little about her, after all, and every truthweaving she’d cast about El’Ara’s future had been about other people.

Noah, the Morkara.

Mareleau, the Edel Morkara’Elle.

She may not be the hero, but she was meant to fight. Destined to face her brother like this.

Gritting her teeth, she sliced out with her sword, thrust with the talons of the collar that she wielded like a dagger. One of the claws hooked into Darius’ inner elbow, just above his gauntlet. He stumbled, his eyes going wide as he realized he couldn’t worldwalk away.

This was her chance.

She lunged back and swung with her sword. He arched away in time to avoid a deeper cut, earning only a thin slash across his throat. It was too shallow of a wound to slow him down. Her only reward was the sight of his blood running down his throat. Still, she didn’t give up. She shifted her stance, swiveled her arms, and slammed the edge of her blade against his abdomen. He released a grunt as the metal armor crumpled inward, her blade sinking into his skin. But at the same time, he tore the talon from his inner elbow and tossed it aside. Ailan ducked and rolled toward it, gathering it in her hand before leaping to her feet.

Darius now stood several feet away, blood trailing from the corner of his lips as he fiddled with the buckles and straps securing the front of his cuirass.

She gave him a wicked grin.

He may have the advantage of iron weapons, which delivered excruciating pain to pureblood fae, but his armor was human-made. Nothing better than garbage compared to the strength of Elvyn craftsmanship and armor harvested from the shedded scales of dragons.

Darius sneered back at her as he loosened a buckle.

Uziel took the chance to blast him with a ball of red flame.

Darius worldwalked away just in time and reappeared closer to Ailan—too near for Uziel to risk using his flame. He released the final buckle and tore his ruined cuirass off his chest. Blood seeped from his wound, but Ailan knew better than to expect enough blood loss to end his life. No, that blow hadn’t been a fatal one.

But it had made his vital organs more vulnerable.

As if the blow had been nothing more than an inconvenient jab, he charged for her, swinging his sword. She dodged. Parried. He disappeared.

Her whispers guided her to the left.

She turned.

Met his blade.

Again.

Again.

It was never-ending, and the sounds of battle around them didn’t cease either.

She needed the upper hand.

Needed to find his weakness.

She parried his blade, slashed out, and pivoted in time to meet his next blow. Her eyes dipped to the symbol at his lapels: a dragon encircled in a ball of flame.

She smirked. “Interesting sigil, considering no dragon would have you.”

He bared his teeth in a dark grin. “Every dragon in El’Ara will heed my commands once I’m Morkaius. They won’t be subject to the prejudices of their former masters.”

“The fact that you call a dragon’s bonded counterpart their master shows just how little you know about dragons in the first place. They would never respect you.”

He disappeared.

Reappeared to her right. She met his blade with hers.

“Because I’m impure?” he said through his teeth. “A half-blood? An imperfect specimen, a stain on your precious, stagnant way of life?”

“No,” Ailan said with a smirk. “Turns out, dragons don’t have a problem with humans.”

His expression faltered.

She swung her blade, feinted left, then thrust with one of the talons.

He disappeared before it could do more than slice his torso.

Ailan whirled around just as he reappeared behind her. They exchanged blows, their swords clanging, the sound ringing through her ears.

“They’ve accepted her,” she said, her smirk widening, darkening. “She has already succeeded at more than you ever have. More than you ever could.”

He scoffed. “Are you talking about the human mother?”

“You complain about being judged for your human blood, but do you even hear the way you speak about your own kind? You don’t respect humans any more than most of the Elvyn do. How does it feel to hate everything you are? To hate both sides of your bloodline so fiercely?”

“It feels like power,” he said, slashing his sword against her breastplate.

Unlike his, her armor didn’t crumple. It did, however, make her stumble back at the force. She regained her footing and took up a defensive stance.

He spoke again. “I am better than both sides of my bloodline. I am the future of two worlds. Do not mistake my confidence for self-hatred, for I know my worth. You’re the one who has always underestimated me. Undervalued me.”

“You never once gave me a reason to hold in you any regard.”

“And that shall be your downfall. You say the human mother has bonded a dragon?”

Ailan pursed her lips. Mareleau hadn’t exactly bonded a dragon yet, but she had earned Ferrah’s respect. Not that Darius needed to know that.

He chuckled. “I know she’s safe behind the Veil with her son—my true enemy, second to you. And if I’m not mistaken…” His eyes narrowed to slits as he inched closer. Ailan stepped back, maintaining a safe distance from him, matching his steps as he began to circle her. “I’ll find them in the dragon caves, then?”

Ailan’s heart leaped into her throat.

Darius nodded. “Your fear has confirmed it. As for the tear…”

Ailan charged for him as he cast his gaze to the north.

He met her eyes with a wicked grin before disappearing.

Her blade met only air.