Page 12 of The Cruel Dawn (Vallendor #2)

We return to the courtyard where Gashoans have formed a queue at the south entry. Two ancresses stand on either side of my canopy. Once Zephar and I are seated again, the women hold out their hands, beckoning the first Gashoan to approach.

A bearded man kneels before me and bows his head. “Divine, please give me life so that I may…”

Zephar chuckles and slumps in his seat. “Ah. Hearing the prayers of the people. Kaivara Megidrail, Celestial, Lady of the Verdant Realm, is still being bossed around by mortals.”

“Relax, Zee,” I snap. Receiving supplicants is a duty I have not fulfilled in far too long.

Refresh my fruits and fields, Celestial.

Heal my wounds, Divine.

Bless my womb-child-horse-hands so that I may prosper, Ancient One.

I snort. “Ancient One?”

“You are kinda old,” he says, grinning.

I stick my tongue out at him when none of the worshippers are looking.

“Crops, coupling, and coin,” he mutters. “That’s all that mortals desire. They can all breathe better now and their sores have been healed. What else must we do for them?”

“I’ve been gone for a long time, Zee,” I say. “And mortals aren’t the only ones interested in coupling.”

Every time a Gashoan steps forward with their hands to their heart, Zephar’s brow scrunches and his jaw flexes.

Shari, though, wags her wolf-tail and smiles her wolf-smile, and her pendant shines brighter than the daystar.

“Are you about to bathe the courtyard in fire?” I ask Zephar. “Or is this face your new normal? I bless and you glare?”

He frowns. “Your patience is extraordinary.”

That was not a compliment.

I rub the back of my sweaty neck until my ears pop, and anger flickers like embers across my scalp. “What do you want me to do, Zephar?” I snap. “Tell me, since you’re—”

“Don’t,” he says, holding up his hand. “I’m not criticizing you.

I’m pissed at these people who are back to treating you as their donkey.

Beyond all the…” He flicks his hand at the gifts and banners and dancers.

“That’s how they see you—a beast of burden.

You deserve to be revered without condition. ”

I grit my teeth and throw up my hands. “That’s not how this works.”

His head falls back, and he runs his hand across his mouth.

The Mera with us move back and pretend to talk among themselves—but they’re listening. Zephar knows this—and he wants this.

“You’ve changed,” he says now.

“I hope so,” I say.

“And I’m…” He sets his hands on the table and worries a date with his knuckles.

I touch his arm. “And you’re… what ?”

He places his hand over mine. “And I’m worried that you’ve softened in your resolve to transform this realm. I’m worried that you’ll let them destroy Vallendor—”

“ Them. Who are we talking about?”

“Humans. Otherworldly. Dashmala. Gorga. Before you left Gasho, we weren’t waiting for them to fuck everything up. Back then, you decided, and we followed your orders, and it was a wonderful thing.”

I squeeze his arm. “I learned some things while I was away. The strife I caused was not—”

“Strife?” He bends until we’re eye to eye. “We are Destroyers, Kaivara. Fuck being Diminished. We are still warriors and protectors. Swords and strength are the way of the Mera. It’s in our blood to destroy so that renewal may come.”

I don’t speak.

“So you no longer believe in our work ?” he asks, gaping at me. “Even though we didn’t let this town perish, hundreds still died when you disappeared. Look at it now.” He waves his hand to all the celebration around us. “They’re thriving. Fruit and water and sex. ”

I nod. “But many died because of me—”

“And others live because of—” Zephar points at me. “ You saved the prince and his company, even with your limited capacity. Even without the complete blessing from the Council. You built this city back up again, better than it ever was, and it didn’t even require complete destruction.”

“Fear—”

“Yes,” he says, “and it took fear. If that’s what humbled Gasho, then fine. Other towns cry out for a similar renewal—”

“Okay, okay,” I say, squeezing the bridge of my nose.

“No, Beloved,” he says, “it’s not okay. I’ve been unable to fulfill my own duty because I’ve waited for your return.

You are the Lady of the Verdant Realm, the Grand Defender of Vallendor.

I can’t carry out my work without your approval.

Even as I watched Danar Rrivae use that fool Wake’s army to decimate one town after another as though it was his right, I couldn’t do my job.

” He leans closer to me and whispers, “And your army looked at me as though I was weak-—”

“Is that why you’re pissed?” I hiss. “Because you looked weak?”

Shari whines now and nudges my clenched fist.

“Yes,” he hisses back. “I’m Zephar Itikin, Warrior of the Righteous, Prince of Lissome Blades, and I’ve destroyed sixteen fucking realms and you’ve—”

Only destroyed three. That’s what he wants to say, but he stops himself.

“You may have moved on,” he says, softer now, “but I lost Naelah in that campaign at Dismal Fen on Yoffa.”

Naelah Itikin—his sister, my friend. She handled curved blades almost as well as her big brother.

I watch far-off shepherds who now guide their sheep across the renewed pastures.

I watch children splash in the marsh while chasing white herons in the long grass.

I’ve been away from this place, away from Zephar and from my warriors, for too long.

I know they relied on him for counsel and protection in my absence.

My stomach cramps as I think about all the trust and goodwill I’ve lost since then.

“Why are we hesitating to help our people?” Zephar asks, softer now.

“Because Danar Rrivae is more of a threat than Gorga or Dashmala or Syrus Wake,” I whisper. “I must cut off the head of the snake. Why can you not understand?”

And where is that traitor right now? And where is the Sea of Devour from here? I can’t just fly across the realm and land in front of Danar Rrivae, not anymore. We can no longer Spryte from one place to another. They are earthbound just as I am.

Zephar isn’t thinking about the details, though.

He wants to fight and burn, destroy, and dissolve.

He hasn’t truly battled the enemy since the War of Flames an age ago.

The otherworldly that invaded Gasho yesterday and the Gorga that attacked the prince today are ants compared to the legion of otherworldly lurking around the sea.

But I need his sword, and I need his counsel. I need Destroyers.

…

Back at the Sanctum, Zephar and I pace in angry silence behind our tent until I say, “Fine. Show me a map.”

He bends and uses his finger to draw a square and a circle in the middle of the dirt-map. “We’re here. Doom Desert.”

Okay. Maford is southeast. Caburh is southwest. Sea of Devour and Mount Devour are farther southwest.

He taps the space between Doom Desert and the sea. “Eaponys.” He taps his finger northeast of us. “And Shelezadd is here.”

“And the problems in Eaponys?” I ask.

“Rape. Murder. The Dashmala have always trampled over the poor, but with your absence, the problem has worsened. They now burn women alive. Shall I continue?”

“Shit, no.” I chew my bottom lip as I think. “The traitor is at the Sea of Devour—at least he was when I saw him last.”

“As we make our way to the sea,” Zephar says, “we can stop by and handle Eaponys.”

“ Helping ,” I say, pointing at him, “not harming. What we did for Gasho yesterday. Understand?”

Zephar smiles. “I will do as you ask. No cleansing fire.”

“And set up those wards along the roads this time. Do we have weapons, armor, supplies?”

Zephar nods. “We will—and I’ll make sure the wards are up.”

Shari yips, and her dirt tail wags so fast the dirt-map is blown away.

But then Zephar kisses me and wraps me in his arms.

So I don’t get what I want—which is to go immediately to the Sea of Devour. Instead, I get what I need: Zephar’s support, which also means the absolute support of our battalion of Mera warriors.