Page 71

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

T here were very few things in Cassandra’s life—only one really—that could distract her from the heartache of Xenia’s terrifying condition.

And that one thing currently stood atop a small platform in front of Lebaedia’s clocktower, resplendent in his new uniform.

Cassandra hoped she looked as good in hers as Tristan did in his. While Tristan’s leather armor was matte black, Cassandra’s was a stunning opalescent white that shimmered in the fading sunlight. It not only cradled her curves, but also showed off her hard-won Fae muscle tone. She loved it. Felt sexy, powerful, and absolutely unstoppable.

Embroidered onto both of their chest plates—hers in white thread and his in black—was a sigil designed by Trophonios. The continuous, curved strip doubled back on itself and was bisected by a vertical line in a nod to the movement’s original Teles symbol. It represented the connection between the four species and sub-species plus the four elemental magics gifted by the Goddess. Cassandra thought it resembled an infinity symbol.

Or a sideways eight.

Her feathers had prickled when she’d first seen it. She’d told both Tristan and Trophonios about what Reena had said in the Halfway. Something about eight paths coalescing . Trophonios had brought up the prophecy, the only other reference to eight that he recalled. His researchers were looking into it, but he didn’t anticipate an answer until after the rebels’ march on Delos.

Which was the topic of this evening’s gathering.

Thousands of rebels blanketed the village and surrounding jungle, anticipating a rousing speech from their future Emperor.

Tristan regarded them with a broad, dazzling smile, looking so regal and powerful and, frankly, fucking hot, that she could hardly believe he was hers.

And High Gods help her, despite her grief, despite her worries, all she wanted to do was peel his new uniform off and take her prince for a long, sweaty ride.

She snickered to herself and Tristan’s heated gaze shot to her, as if he could tell precisely where her thoughts had strayed.

He traced an M on his thigh.

Ma’anyu .

Unbreakable.

Truer now than it had ever been.

Lined up beside her in front of the platform were the rest of the Teles Chrysos leadership: Trophonios plus the three generals—Fetar, Pfania, and Tanius—to whom Cassandra had been briefly introduced this morning. The latter curved a bright orange wing around the back of a honey-blond female, then planted a kiss on her cheek.

Ione—who Cassandra had not yet officially met—offered Felix a strained smile before turning her attention back to Tristan, her expression indecipherable.

Tristan had insisted on meeting with Ione as soon as he’d returned from Tartarus with Cassandra in tow. He’d asked Cassandra to join him, told her that he had nothing to hide from her. But Cassandra wanted them to have their privacy for what she worried might be a difficult conversation. It’s what she herself would have wanted were she in Ione’s position.

The meeting had been tense, according to Tristan. Ione had threatened to leave, but he’d convinced her to stay, at least for tonight. Said her absence would be noted and that they needed to project a united front before undertaking their opening move against Eamon.

Cassandra hoped she and Ione would have a chance to speak soon. She didn’t want there to be any awkwardness between them.

But some small, wretched, unkind part of her couldn’t help holding her head a bit higher, her wings a bit wider, around the stunning female. Couldn’t help thinking he’s mine now, and if you try to kiss him again I will rip out your fucking tongue.

She wasn’t proud of it, but there it was.

Behind the Teles Chrysos leadership, Ronin and Mireille laughed quietly, heads bowed together as they shared some secret joke. Though the two wolf bi-forms weren’t touching, there was a lightness between them that Cassandra had never seen in Tartarus. Cassandra smiled. Mireille had finally gotten her wish. She had her friend back.

Cassandra was happy to see Ronin smiling, as well. He’d been anxious the past few days. Wanted to find out what had happened to Selene and was hoping to find clues in Delos—the last place she’d been seen after her arrest.

They’d tried reaching her through Ronin’s memories a few more times after they’d arrived in the village, to no avail. Cassandra was met with that same solid white wall she’d encountered when she’d tried it behind the wards.

It had given them the thought to try it on Tristan, to see if they could jump into Eamon’s mind, but that hadn’t worked either. All Cassandra had encountered was a blurred haze with indecipherable sounds prickling at her ears. As if something was muddying the brothers’ connection.

She tossed away thoughts of those failures as she glanced over her shoulder, scanning the faces spread out behind her. She smiled at some humans from Tartarus, those well enough to leave the healers’ quarters. She waved at Hella and Aneka, then saluted Silas, who had an arm wrapped around the shoulder of a tall female with wavy, auburn hair and dove gray wings.

Sofia.

Silas had found his daughter. The tear-stained smile he aimed at Cassandra had her own eyes stinging.

Though her tears froze at the sight of the solitary figure beyond the edge of the crowd, his bonded white dragon curled up in a clearing behind him.

Cael looked murderous. The same expression he’d worn when Cassandra had first met him in the Temple atrium in Thalenn what felt like a thousand years ago. Tristan claimed Cael had softened these past months under Xenia’s influence. But now that Cael was on the verge of losing her…

Cassandra shook her head. She wouldn’t think about it. It wasn’t possible. They would get Xenia back.

A purple disc of mentrite floated below Tristan’s chin, amplifying his voice to the sprawling crowd.

“Rebel hearts!” he shouted, a deep boom that shivered through Cassandra’s bones. “Are you ready to take back your continent?”

The roar he’d summoned shook the cosmos.

“Before we march upon Delos to tear my brother from a throne which he has no right to occupy, I have a few announcements. First and foremost, I’d like to offer my sincerest gratitude to our Delphine, Ione Saros. Not only did she rescue me from my brother’s clutches, but she’s worked tirelessly over the years to steer the movement toward this very moment. None of us would be here today without her.”

He offered Ione a humble bow, which she returned, stiffly, then pressed her palms together at her chest and touched the opal on her platinum circlet.

“Next,” Tristan continued, “I’d like to announce a few additions to my Imperial Council. Leaders who have pledged to uphold our values and to usher in a better world for you, your loved ones, and every living creature on this planet, regardless of species or status.”

Applause rippled through the crowd, along with joyful laughter and shouts of agreement.

So different from the last time Cassandra had watched a powerful Erabis male address a crowd.

Back in Thalenn, on that fateful day months ago when she’d been arrested, Eamon Erabis had issued threatening decrees based on fear and hatred to his subjects.

Today, Tristan Erabis spoke in gratitude, in love, and in service to his people.

Cassandra’s chest swelled with the deepest pride.

“First,” Tristan began, “is a female that some of you have likely heard of, though you’ve only heard half her story. You know her as one of the greatest dancers in the history of Ethyrios. But at the same time as she was climbing those ranks, she was honing her craft as a spy and assassin. Now granted, it was for my father’s backwards Empire, but we’ll give her a pass on that.”

Good-natured ribbing echoed, followed by a long wolf-whistle from Ronin. Cassandra could’ve sworn she saw Mireille blushing—an extremely rare sight.

Tristan encouraged quiet as his tone intensified. “We will give her a pass because she’s spent the past two centuries in Tartarus, protecting half-breeds and humans from Fae who sought to harm and exploit them. She’s got the scars to prove it.” Tristan locked eyes with Mireille. “But though she is scarred, she is anything but broken. Please welcome our new Captain of Intelligence, Mireille Valois-Fortin!”

Cheers swept through the rebels, the loudest from Ronin, as Mireille sashayed onto the stage to shake hands with Tristan. True to form, she wore no smile, only that fuck with me and I’ll end you all look that Cassandra remembered so well from their training sessions. She nodded toward the rebels, then retook her spot next to Ronin, who wore a big, goofy grin.

Tristan continued, “Next is a male you know quite well. He’s been risking his fur-covered hide for centuries, feeding you vital information as a member of Eamon’s Defense Council. And though his wartime history with humans is marred by blood and violence, he is living proof that we are all capable of great change if we can earn the forgiveness of those we’ve harmed. And learn to forgive ourselves. The new leader of my war committee—General Ronin Matakos!”

Ronin climbed the platform to shake Tristan’s hand and showboat for the crowd, who’d leapt to their feet. When he rejoined Mireille, he muttered something that sounded like they cheered louder for me . Mireille elbowed him in the ribs.

Tristan went on, bestowing the title of General upon Hella and adding her to Ronin’s war committee. Aneka welcomed Hella back into the audience by leaping into her girlfriend’s arms and fusing their mouths together.

When the furious celebrations finally died down, he spoke up again. “I would not be standing here before you were it not for this next male. He saved my life countless times during our tenure as Vestian Guards. Plus, a few of us would still be stuck in Tartarus if he hadn’t ended the reign of his maniacal father and won himself a fucking dragon .”

The crowd whooped and hollered while Signys preened, fluttering her giant wings and releasing a contented puff of smoke.

Tristan choked up on the next part. “He’s taught me the true meaning of resilience. That your injuries don’t define your limits. And that the deadliest weapon you can possess is a friend who isn’t afraid to sit with you in your darkness. There’s no one I’d rather have guarding my back. Meet the new Captain of my Imperial Guard—Cael Zephyrus!”

Signys shot a column of bright, crackling flame into the twilight sky as the rebels erupted. Cael portaled to the stage, his face slightly softer. Tristan curled a hand around the back of Cael’s neck and pressed their foreheads together.

“We’ll get her back,” Tristan whispered to his friend. “We’ll burn a path through the Halfway if we have to.”

Cael grimaced, offered a stiff bow to the crowd with his wing flared, then portaled back to Signys’s side. He was even less comfortable with the praise than Mireille.

“And last but certainly not least…” His eyes flicked to Cassandra and her heart kicked into a frenzied beat. “I have a shameful confession for you all. Up until very recently, I wasn’t sure if I believed in your Goddess.”

Low laughter and a few shocked gasps burbled through the crowd.

“I asked myself, if Adelphinae truly existed, how could she have allowed the beautiful, harmonious world she’d created to devolve into such suffering and hatred? How could a Goddess that purports to love all her creations equally and unconditionally allow them to cause each other such pain?”

Tristan dipped his head, rubbing his thumb into his palm. Across his original Turning scar.

“But then something miraculous happened.” He returned his gaze to the crowd. “The Goddess gave me a gift. One I’m sure I’m not worthy of, but a gift nonetheless.” He reached a hand toward Cassandra, encouraging her to join him on the platform, and her pulse skyrocketed further. “And the wonderful news is she’s not just a gift for me. Well, in some ways she is.” He winked and the crowd burst into laughter as Cassandra fought the urge to roll her eyes.

Tristan placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward his people.

“She’ll be the greatest gift to you as well.”

She flared her wings, incredibly moved by the openness, the joy, in the faces staring up at her. Tristan said he didn’t know if he was worthy of her, but at this moment, she didn’t know if she was worthy of them .

But Creator help her, she was willing to work for it.

Tristan continued, “She’s borne many titles: Shrouded Sister, Savior Sister, Koenigin of Tartarus, Prince’s Consort. But there’s one more I’m hoping she’ll add to her list.”

The crowd sucked in a collective breath. Which was ironic because Cassandra had ceased to breathe.

Tristan knelt down on one knee, tucking his iridescent black wings down his back, and reached for her hand. Sensing how nervous she was, he ran a gentle thumb across her knuckles.

“Cassandra Fortin,” he asked with tears in his eyes. “ Ma’anyu .

Will you be my Empress?”

She wanted to burst into elated tears. Wanted to leap into his arms. Wanted to kiss his face off and scream with delight.

But the responsibilities he’d just asked her to accept—to forge this new world beside him, to uplift these people, to help them repair the rifts created by Eamon and Leonin—were so much larger than Tristan and Cassandra’s own responsibilities toward each other.

They imbued their love with even greater importance. As if Adelphinae had brought them together for exactly this purpose.

So instead of answering Tristan, she turned her gaze upon the gathered rebel hearts. Windriders and Deathstalkers and Beastrunners and half-breeds and humans.

Her people. Each and every one.

And accepted them all with a resounding “ YES!”