“More!”
New Mothers arrived on the ashes of the last ones just in time for their armies to collide. The fighting was getting uncomfortably close to him.
“Close the gap!”
The Mothers did as commanded—at least someone still listened to him—and Arnost Lis sighed. This was a complication, but the enemy’s numbers were limited. He had an endless army of Mothers to command. Cephy wouldn’t be pleased, but she’d be too dead to care soon enough.
Behind him, two of his infernal guards moved away from him.
“What in the Maker’s name do you think you’re doing?”
He turned around to see them burst into flames.
Desma’s smug grin greeted him. “I thought it was you barking orders.”
Curse her Krymistian accent and that blasted grin. He paled more, but only for a second—he still had another five Mothers protecting him.
Desma twirled her daggers in her hands and grinned when the Mother protecting his right flank attacked her. She buried one dagger in the Mother’s head, then leaned back to stab another with her other dagger.
His flanks were unprotected.
“I’ve been looking forward to this. Did you know I’ve been hoping we’d meet since you fled the White Palace?”
She threw one dagger at the Mother behind him. He swallowed, but his racing heart made it difficult.
Only one Mother was left.
“Do something!”
The Mother screeched, a sound as cold as the bottom of the Far Sea, and created a second weapon.
He smiled. Desma had lost one of her daggers when she’d thrown it at the Mother. He admitted she was good, but she’d never win against two weapons when she only had one herself.
Desma didn’t look worried. She lunged at the Mother and roll-dodged to the side when the demon sliced at her with both weapons at once. Desma jumped to her feet behind the Mother, pierced the place where its heart would have been—
And then she was gone. Rolled out of sight.
“My Lady Erimentha extends her greetings.”
Her whisper was hot on his ear.
Behind him. Desma was behind him.
He wanted to turn around, but he couldn’t move. His midsection was oddly numb.
Then the pain spread, and he gasped for air.
“Did you know I’m a trained Sand Blade? I suppose you wouldn’t. Allow me to educate you in the fine Krymistian art of assassination.” The pain flared. Arnot Lis screamed. “I know one hundred and fifty ways to hurt a man with a blade. I also know the best ways to kill someone if I want them to suffer. Say, if I held a grudge for whatever reason.” His scream died in his throat when the pain took his breath away. Her voice had been strong for her speech, but when she spoke again, it was a soft whisper against his ear. “My Lady Erimentha was Krymistian, as am I. And we do not forget.”
Arnost Lis fell, and watched the Red Waste soil beneath him earn its name.
Kiana had lost sight of Rachael. She guessed where Rachael and Cephy were by the occasional flash of fire that she assumed Cephy was throwing at Rachael, but too many Mothers stood between her and them. She’d meant to stay close to Rachael, defend her back and her flank, but somehow the Mothers had separated them.
She shoved her dagger into where the face would have been on the Mother nearest to her. For a second after the Mother had turned to ash, she spotted Rachael behind yet more demons, but they filled the gap and Rachael disappeared again.
Kiana slowly stepped in a circle with her blades held out to both sides. “Move aside or you will all die like your friend here.”
On a normal day, she wouldn’t have minded the challenge, but too much was at stake today. If Rachael died while some demons kept her away, Kiana would never forgive herself.
The Mothers grinned and closed in on her. She spun and cut them down, but more took their places.
Kiana briefly gripped her daggers like she was giving them an encouraging squeeze. “Rach needs us. Let’s not let her down.”
Then she loosened her grasp so her daggers lay ready in her palms, and fought.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Cephy raised two flames in her palms, but Rachael was faster. She slashed at Cephy’s shield…
And heard it crack over the sounds of battle.
Saw the fine line tear through the invisible surface as it faltered.
Cephy was getting tired. Her large displays of magic must have cost her a lot of energy, and she was paying for it.
Rachael circled Cephy. “Don’t underestimate your opponent. The Sparrows would have taught you that.”
Cephy spat. The flame she called to encase her body flickered. “You’re nothing to me.”
Rachael nodded. “I’ll never have the talent for magic you do, but for all the powers the Dark One has granted you, you can’t control them, can you? Your gift isn’t strong enough to complement His.”
Cephy tried to cloak herself in flames again and screamed in anger when the fire barely covered her skin. The hungry flames from before were gone. Cephy merely had a warm glow to her.
She hissed. “You’re outnumbered. You can’t win, even with your reinforcements!”
There was so little left of the girl Rachael had known. Her innocence, her sweet smile, her childish laugh—all dead. That first night in Arlo’s hut seemed like it had happened years ago. Rachael had struggled to sleep in a real bed, in a stranger’s house, but Cephy had been grateful for the shelter. She’d seen the good in people. She’d sat up with Rachael, begging her to believe Cale and Arlo and bring the gifted a better future.
Rachael had told her to go to sleep, but she couldn’t remember if she wished Cephy a good night. She should have tucked Cephy in. She should have been the protector Cephy had craved.
Rachael raised her sword. Focussed on the crack in Cephy’s shield. “Good night, Cephy.” She sped forwards and buried her sword right in the crack’s fragile heart.
Drove it all the way through to Cephy.
Rachael didn’t miss this time. Cephy herself was too stunned to react.
“How did you—”
“Ssh.” Rachael didn’t want to exchange hate-filled accusations anymore. She simply wanted to be there, like she hadn’t been before.
“Rachael—”
The hatred, the darkness, the resentment, they all bled out of Cephy and collected by her feet. The first moisture the Red Wastes had seen in centuries.
The rest of Cephy’s shield disintegrated. Rachael withdrew her sword and caught Cephy before the girl hit the ground. Rachael eased her down until she was on her knees and Cephy was dying in her lap. Cephy’s lips opened, but no sound escaped.
“Shh. It’s okay. Sleep.”
Rachael stroked the girl’s hair. Smiled down on her through burning eyes. Wiped the tear off Cephy’s cheek when it fell.
For a brief second, recognition entered Cephy’s eyes. Then their light died, and Cephy’s body sagged into Rachael’s legs.
Rachael bent down to kiss Cephy’s head. “May you find the peace in the next life that you were denied in this one.”
“Rachael!”
She looked up and saw a blurred vision of Cale run towards her.
The Mothers had vanished. All around her, Sparrows, Parashi, and Mist Women stood together, looking confused.
Cale’s eyes fell on the body next to her. “The Mothers disappeared when you—when she died.”
Rachael shook her head. “No. It’s Kaida. I can feel it.”
Cale helped her up and pulled her into a tight hug. “The Dark One is gone then? Are you sure?”
“Yes. The Mothers needed the connection to him to remain here. When Kaida banished him, they were forced to leave with him. And Cephy—”
Cephy had recognised Rachael in her last seconds. No more corruption, no more darkness. Just one friend comforting another.
“Is Lady Nerine here?”
Cale nodded towards a group of Parashi. “She’s right there,
talking to her warriors. They got here at just the right moment—we were all getting tired. How did they get here so fast though?”
“We can ask them in a moment. Tell them to assemble. I’ll just find Kiana, she was fighting with me.”
A heavy weight settled in her gut. Where was Kiana? She couldn’t have gone far, and the Mothers were gone.
“Kiana?”
Rachael found her. A mass of beautiful red hair standing out on the dry soil like a poppy in winter.
Rachael fell to her knees beside her. Rolled her over. Wiped the hair out of her face.
Felt her pulse and found none.
Rachael picked her up and held her. She’d been there for Cephy, but Kiana had died alone surrounded by the enemy. Where was the justice in that? The fight was over. They could all go home—all except Lon, Kaida, Cephy, and now Kiana. Rachael held her like it would bring her back and cried into her dead friend’s hair.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Rachael shook Lady Nerine’s hand. “Thank you for arriving when you did. I don’t know how much longer we’d have survived without your help.”
“How did you get here so quickly?” Cale asked. “Krymistis is an ocean away. Even my Sparrows couldn’t have arrived so fast.”
Lady Nerine smiled. It warmed some of the dread inside Rachael, but it might as well have been a weak ray of sun at the height of a frozen winter.
“When Kaida exchanged information with the Mist Women in Paranossa, she told them about an old focus point in the library. We couldn’t be certain it would still work, but we deemed it worth the risk.”
“We’re grateful that you did.” Now the battle was over and Rachael had called for a short meeting, her Sparrows, who had arrived from the White Palace, stood behind her rather than with the Parashi. Commander Dryden had arrived with her Sparrows and Kleon and had gathered his guards behind her.
They were all bloodied. Knowing none of it was the enemy’s blood since their enemy hadn’t bled made it an even grimmer sight.
Lady Nerine turned her attention to Desma, who stood with Rachael. “You are welcome to return to Paranossa. I would welcome you amongst my Parashi. Likewise, I’m certain the Sand Blades would welcome you back with open arms.”
Rachael hadn’t even considered what Desma would do. Her lady was gone, and the man she’d sworn to kill was dead.
“I request to stay with Queen Rachael.” Desma’s eyes met hers. “If she would have me.”
Cale raised an eyebrow. “You want to join the Sparrows or the White Guard?”
“Better. I want to be her Sand Blade.”
“I don’t even know what that is, Desma,” Rachael said.
Perhaps it didn’t matter. Rachael had seen Desma fight, and they’d killed alongside each other. What else was important?
Desma grinned. “I’ll tell you later, after I’ve bathed.” She crinkled her nose. “I reek of Tramuran bastard.”
Rachael had never felt this drained; she wasn’t in the mood to overthink it. If Desma wanted to stay, she could stay. “Then you come with us.”
“Thank you.” Desma acted like she didn’t care, but her shoulders sagged in relief.
“I am sorry for your losses,” Lady Nerine said. “We will honour their memory once we’ve returned home.”
“How do you honour the dead in Krymistis?” Cale asked.
Lady Nerine smiled. “With a week-long feast, of course. How will you remember?”
Rachael had a few thoughts on the matter, but nothing she was willing to think about right now. “I haven’t decided yet.”
It was easier than to fall into long explanations. Rachael wanted nothing more than to get away from the Red Wastes.
“Is the focus point still usable?” Cale asked.
Lady Nerine nodded. “We worried moving so many people at once would damage it, but that doesn’t appear to be the case.”
A Mist Woman behind Lady Nerine spoke up. “I felt its energy when we activated it. It seemed… happy to be needed again.”
The sentient magic of the old empire was another thing Rachael couldn’t get herself to think about right now. These were all topics for another day.
Cale turned to her. “If we use it, we’ll get back to the White City faster. It would take weeks to make the trip on foot.”
“Then we’ll do that,” Rachael said. “We’ll leave once we’ve prepared the dead for transportation.”
“What about the ambassador?” Desma asked.
Rachael shrugged. “He can rot.”
Desma grinned.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Rachael let the amulet Kaida had given her run through her fingers. A farewell gift. She wasn’t sure if she could wear it, despite what it promised.
Rachael got up from the bench and sat on the edge of the fountain. She’d missed the garden in her palace. It had been her first stop after she’d bathed, eaten, and slept for a day. She’d had nightmares, but thanks to Kaida’s enchantment on her necklace, they hadn’t been visions. They still hurt, but at least they were only pain and regret, not warnings. The peace of her sanctuary was exactly what she needed right now.
No bickering. No screaming. No asking her for answers she didn’t have. Just the calm splashing of the fountain and the singing of birds. Being here after everything that had happened was surreal.
A door opened, and Rachael sighed. She had instructed the guards at the door to let her have a moment, but queens didn’t get personal peace. If business called—
Rachael smiled. She recognised the footsteps.
“I thought you might be here,” Cale said and sat next to her on the fountain.
“It’s quiet. No one bothers me here.”
“Would you like me to go? We can talk later.”
She shook her head and moved closer to him. “You don’t bother me.”
Cale returned her smile and laced his fingers through hers. She was grateful she hadn’t lost him to this war too. He calmed her just by being here.
Cale nodded to her necklace. “I’ve noticed that before. Is it new?”
Her throat constricted. “Kaida gave it to me. Before she left.”
“Just a pretty gift to remember her by?”
“No. She says it can suppress my visions. Keep me sane or alive. Or both, I guess.”
Their eyes met. “Are you going to wear it?” Cale asked.
“I don’t know. I put it on last night and couldn’t feel my gift.” Rachael huffed. “All my life, I wanted it gone. Now that I can control it, it feels wrong to get rid of it.”
Cale squeezed her hand. “You’re not getting rid of it. You’re saving it until you need it. In the meantime, you won’t have to worry about visions or your gift slowly sapping your life away. And if you do need it again one day, using it will be as easy as taking the necklace off.”
Cale made it sound so easy. Rachael passed him the necklace. “Would you?”
She brushed her hair out of her neck and frowned. It was still short. She wanted to grow it again, but it took time.
“All done.” Cale handed her the amethyst amulet which enhanced her visions, and Rachael hid it in her fist.
She didn’t feel comfortable in her dresses, but everyone agreed that wearing them would remind people that their queen was back—not just until the next fight, but to stay. They were impractical. They had no pockets, for one. Maybe she’d hire a tailor to adjust them for her, or maybe she’d just stick to leather travelling gear. What was the point of being queen if she couldn’t wear what she wanted?
“Any word from Reeve?” she asked.
“They only left two days ago. It’ll take longer than that to get to Grozma.”
She stared at the splashing water. “It just feels odd that they’re gone.”
Reeve and Ludo had gone to see Ludo’s mother. If she was healthy enough, they’d asked Rachael’s permission to move her here where she could be at peace. Rachael had gladly agreed. She owed all of them larger favours than that.
“I know.” Cale slid an arm around her waist. She leaned into him. “You should come watch the Sparrows spar. I can’t believe Commander Dryden got them to work together with his guards.”
It wasn’t the most amazing thing she’d heard. “And they’re using magic to fight?”
Cale grinned. “It’s amazing. I watched them earlier. They create shields to block, push air to stagger. Commander Dryden even called for a Mist Woman to enchant their weapons so they can block their comrade’s magic.”
“That’ll be a big adjustment for everyone.” Rachael touched the water’s surface and watched the ripples spread. “Having Mist Women move into the city, I mean.”
“But a good adjustment. They’ve offered to teach our gifted, and two have asked if you’ll be hiring a court Mist Woman.”
“Not any time soon.”
Having a Mist Woman advise the court was common practice across the Zestian Sea and in their own history, but there was so much else to think about. She’d only just lost Kaida. Cale and Commander Dryden advised her. Desma did too, whether Rachael asked her or not. It was nice as well as painful how much she reminded Rachael of Kiana.
“Desma is waiting for you outside, by the way,” Cale said. “She says you’re late for something?”
Rachael glanced at the door. “She wanted to tell me more about what a Sand Blade is. If she’s going to stay here, I want to know.”
In truth, Rachael was grateful Desma wanted to stay. In time, the reminder of Kiana would hurt less. Desma was also a connection to her mother and her Krymistian heritage. If Desma wanted to educate Rachael, she’d take the lessons.
“No rest for queens and Sparrows, hm?” She stood, but Cale pulled her back down.
“There’s no reason this break can’t last a little bit longer.”
She smiled. “I’m glad you’re here to remind me of the important things.”
“Any time. Speaking of which—”
She turned to look at him. “Speaking of important th—”
Blood of the Dragon Page 25
