Page 76

AERI

CHARM BEACH, GAYA

W inds blow, rippling my skirt. They carry the scent of burning wood up to the overlook and bring the Weians closer.

Fallador runs up to us and kneels with me, his green eyes filled with concern. We both put our hands on Mikail’s arms to help him up. He shakes us off. Fallador’s eyebrows knit at the rejection, but Mikail rises to his feet under his own power. The men cheer again.

I exchange glances with Fallador—he loves Mikail, and he wants to help, but the men needed to see him stand on his own.

Or he needed it.

Fallador falls back into line. Teo side-eyes him as he takes his place by Rune’s side.

No one trusts Fallador just because he betrayed us, and that seems unfair. People make mistakes. I did.

Mikail takes two deep breaths, and then he waves his right arm and his left in rapid succession. He’s trying to pay just one toll, but relics don’t work that way.

Twenty more white ships catch fire, engulfed in red-and-orange blazes on the water.

It’s incredible, but I’m not looking at the flames of etherum or the sea.

I’m staring at Mikail. He doubles over in pain.

Water drips out of his nose as he leans forward, and he grips the metal armor on his chest with both hands.

No one has wielded both the sword and the scepter, so we don’t know how long he can last. But I can guess.

I do the terrible calculations in my head.

At the start of the attack, there were ninety-five Weian ships.

Fifty-five remain. With the toll increasing from every use, there is no possibility of Mikail sinking all of them. He’ll die first.

My stomach twists, and I shake with a chill. He would. He would happily die to sink them.

Mikail coughs violently until he vomits water again.

I wring my hands, utterly useless. I want to help, but I can’t.

I know better than everyone else—nothing stops the toll.

I squeeze my hands until they hurt, but there’s nothing I can do.

I have to stand here and watch my friend suffer through a relentless torment of pain.

I remember the agony of drowning in the hot spring, and Mikail is doing it slowly.

I shudder as the soldiers below us cheer. The twenty ships Mikail just lit aflame are sinking, but the overlook is silent as Mikail’s limbs visibly shake. He tries to stand up straight, but he grimaces, losing the fight against his own body.

I look over at Royo, and pity scrawls across his face. He can see it, too—Mikail can’t keep this up or it will kill him.

My relics vibrate as I stare at Mikail and then the sails—the blue of Wei and the red of Yusan in the distance. There are around forty Yusanian ships sailing far behind the Weians.

What do I do?

I can’t just stand here—that much is certain. My relics hum and heat up. I could try to turn the remaining Weian fleet to gold, but I don’t know if I could even reach all of them. And what will happen now that I have the crown?

I made a promise to Royo that I wouldn’t use etherum unless I have to. Is this a need? We’re safe up here, for now, but I also can’t let Mikail kill himself.

The ships drift ever closer. I shift my weight, staring at the sea. What do we do?

Mortals are born to die.

I groan and look up at the sun. Thank you for that, voice in my head. I assume it’s the voice of the former kings of Yusan, since it picked up so much after I got the Immortal Crown. Military strategy tips would be a lot more useful right now.

But as I stare down at all the men below, I realize what the voice is saying.

It is strategy. I take a deep breath. There’s another horrible calculation to be done.

We have fifteen thousand people between Rune’s soldiers and the Gayan rebels.

Mikail said Yusanian boats carry sixty men, and the Weian ships, one hundred.

We have nearly twice the soldiers they have.

If we let them come ashore, we can overwhelm them with greater numbers.

More of our people will die, but it will save Mikail.

There’s no choice to be made. We have to let the soldiers fight like the kings and queens before us. Even right now, the prince of Wei is at the back of his fleet. Seok beyond that. And Quilimar is safe in her palace. Only Mikail is actually fighting this battle.

“We have to let them come, Mikail,” I say.

He shakes his head, but he still can’t talk, so weakened by the toll. I steel my spine, my resolve only strengthened.

“I’ll buy you time, then.”

I don’t mean it. We have soldiers and arms ready for war. We can’t idly stand by and watch Mikail battle for us.

I turn and face the archers. “On my signal.”

It’s a gamble. I’m not the commander of this army, but Rune has referred to me as the Relic Queen.

The captain of the bowmen looks at Rune, who, of course, stands safely behind everyone, but he’s been observing everything.

I hold my head high and raise an eyebrow at him.

This is my throne we’re fighting for—the one he desperately covets.

Are we allies or not? He hesitates, but he nods, giving permission to the captain to follow my command.

Pages set a line of oil aflame, and the longbowmen light their arrows. Their bows are enormous, the arrows, too. They each appear to have around a dozen of them.

I stare through my spyglass. The fleet is close now but in disarray, trying to navigate around the sinking ships. I wait a few seconds to make sure we can hit two rows of targets.

Hitting warships and killing men is not much different from the rigged tuhko rings at the night carnival. At least, not from up here. Maybe I should be horrified that it’s all a matter of angles and trajectories, but I glance at Royo. I have too much to protect to worry about morals.

War is always a game .

Great. I raise my arm and then drop it. “Loose!”

One hundred fire arrows launch into the air.

They arc into the sky, and I hold my breath.

Mikail is still coughing, but he raises his head for long enough to watch the barrage.

The arrows begin to fall, striking two hundred yards away, give or take.

Some of the arrows miss, sinking into the water instead.

Most hit the decks of the warships, barely doing any damage.

But some hit the sails or light other flammables on fire.

We have to adjust.

“Aim for the sails,” I call out.

I give the command to loose another barrage as the Weian crews scramble on their decks. We need to take advantage of the chaos and make sure they sink. I raise and lower my arm, and the archers release another hundred flaming arrows.

Then another hundred.

Men die and fires light as I watch it all like a play from the safety of the cliff.

“Ready the men,” Rune says to his generals. They salute him and ride the path down to the beach.

Eight warships are now on fire. The flames are far slower, smokier, and less devastating than Mikail’s etherum, but it’s still a success. The men on the beach cheer each one as it sinks.

A rush of victory hits me, but then I count, and my stomach turns. The cold truth makes me shiver. There are far too many blue sails still billowing on the sea. It’s not nearly enough.

Forty-seven Weian ships left. Nearly five thousand Weian soldiers will soon hit the beach.

We must keep trying.

As the ships come into range, arrow after arrow flies through the air, but still, Weians continue toward our coast. They sail right past their dying brothers, not pausing to take on drowning men or to put out the flames.

The closest ships are now only fifty yards from our shore. They will beach any second.

Archers with crossbows wait behind the spiked fortifications. Regular bowmen stand with the infantry a few hundred yards from the shore. We have two lines of defense before our soldiers will have to battle theirs.

It will have to be enough.

My pulse pounds, doubt seeping in, but we have numbers. Numbers are what matter in a battle—it’s why we fear the full Yusanian king’s guard descending on us. Why we need to win today.

I hold my breath as the first Weian ship runs aground. It’s one moment, two, before the Weian guard drops planks into the surf.

The first Weians barrel down onto our shore. They are all outfitted in steel from head to toe. And this isn’t the royal ship. Blood drains from my face—how can that be?

As soon as the Weians appear, the archers fire arrows. Their aim is true. The Weians are hit from multiple directions. I wait for them to fall as they’re struck in the chest, the thigh, the helmet.

Nothing happens. They continue to run forward.

I gasp, my fingertips icy and my relics humming. Two Weians who were unlucky enough to be shot in the face fall, but everyone else proceeds. The arrowheads just glance off their steel. The crossbow archers begin to fire, but the Weians have shields.

Nearly all the first Weians make it off the ship and onto our beach. And four more ships have run aground.

Mikail finally stands straight and looks at me. For the first time, there’s fear in his eyes.

“We can’t beat them,” he says.

I hold my chin up, pushing away my doubt. “We can. No steel is impervious.”

The Weians pour from the galleys of the other ships. Our crossbow archers hit some, the bolts penetrating, but not nearly enough—maybe two dozen total. The Weians run toward our fortifications as we continue to shoot in waves.

Rune’s generals give the call for the first line of infantry to advance. War cries rise up from both sides. One thousand of Rune’s soldiers run from our side of the beach, kicking up sand. A single sound comes from the Weian guard— oorah .

I ball my hands in fists as the lines of men crash into each other by the fortifications. Sword meets sword and body meets body. Bolts fly when our archers have a clean shot.

I scan, hopeful, waiting as I hold my breath.

We can do this. We sent twice their number.

But as the fray continues, the Weians begin to advance, cutting down our men.

There’s not a sound on this cliff as blood begins to soak our shore.

The Weian guard is far better armored but also better trained, and that combination is unstoppable.

Another thousand of Rune’s men run in to bolster our front line. It should be enough. We now have four of our men to each one of theirs. My pulse beats in my neck as I observe, waiting.

It doesn’t matter. Our men fall at a horrifying rate. Screams and death pleas reach us up here. How is this possible?

Mikail’s teal eyes widen with pain as he takes in the scene. This is not a battle—it’s a slaughter.

This is what Fallador warned us about. And now we’re here with dozens more Weian ships about to invade our shore.

Mikail throws his arm out, staring at Charm Beach.

One hundred Weian soldiers suddenly catch fire on the sand, screaming as they’re burned alive.

As they contort, our men use the distraction to attack.

We temporarily gain ground. But Mikail hits the grass until he’s lying flat on his back.

He starts to convulse. His eyes are open, but he can’t stop shuddering, his limbs moving uncontrollably.

Royo takes a knee next to him as Mikail’s face turns purple.

And there’s nothing I can do.

All of this power, and I can’t fucking help him.

My stomach churns, and my hands are balled in fists so tight that my nails cut into my palms. I’m useless.

I can’t find Sora. I can’t help Mikail. I didn’t save Hana.

I’ve watched man after man die on the beach.

Men I didn’t know but who will never return home to their families because I thought some might die, but I was good with that cost.

I have to do something. Promise or not. Yes, we’re safe on this cliff, but we won’t be for long when a small group of Weians can take the beach.

Ten more Weian ships will land in seconds. The rest of the fleet behind that. And even if we could somehow withstand the Weians, Yusan is behind them with fresh men and a would-be king whose reign would be solidified with our deaths.

It never stops.

Gods, it never fucking ends.

Royo puts Mikail on his side, and his convulsions ebb. It’s a relief. But if he uses the relics again, it will kill him. I’m certain of it. I’m also certain he’ll try.

As soon as he can breathe again, Mikail crawls forward to look down at the beach and then out at all the ships. There are still too many left—too many ships, too many enemies.

Mikail grins from where he kneels in the trampled grass, but he’s not happy at all. He’s done the math, too. We can’t sustain this.

We can’t win.

But we have to try, because we have no other choice. Actually, we do have one option. I can try to sink the last Weian boats no matter the cost.

I raise my arms but not for the archers. I look at Royo and purse my lips. I’m sorry. I really am. But I have to do this. We are simply out of time.

His eyes widen, and he’s just started shaking his head when Mikail stands.

“Aeri,” he says. “I need you to kill me.”