“You can’t stay as her?”
She shakes her head, her expression growing serious. “With the return of the nymphs, I become what I am again. It is more difficult to change each time. Even now, my bones ache terribly and will until I return to my primary body. But I needed to take this opportunity to speak to you before I no longer can, about what is to come.”
“You mean what’s about to crawl out of the Nulling.”
“Crawl, fly …” She winces as she steps closer. “Long before Aminadav’s fury split the earth, when the nymphs were here and the door to the in-between world was open, creatures would pass through and appear as if out of thin air, in random places. One here, one there. It was annoying, but it was manageable. They did not all come out of the rift in a flood, like cockroaches running from the light. That only happened with Farren’s meddling. It seems as though the veil between the worlds is thinner in there, easier to emerge from.”
It dawns on me. “You were alive when King Ailill was here.”
“I have been alive for it all, watching these fools make the same mistakes over and over again.” She sneers. “I will be at the rift tonight at the height of Hudem’s full moon, and I will steer away the worst of them for the time being.”
But not forever. “How?”
“By being me.” There’s an air of haughtiness in her tone. “You and the king and all your casters must take care of the rest.”
I nod. “And what about Malachi?”
“What about him? Malachi is a fate. He will come, one way or another, but he will not crawl out like a common fiend. He will find a different path.” She looks up at the Hudem moon. “We should return.”
“Wait!” This is the last chance I’ll ever have to talk to Bexley.
Her eyebrow arches.
“Did Atticus know what you are?”
“That is what you wish to know?” Her lips curl. “If your nemesis knew he was fornicating with an ancient creature?”
I guess that’s not a worthwhile question when my time for answers is limited. “Will you still be my ally after tonight?”
“You are the Queen for All,” she says simply, as if that answers my question, before stepping backward, into the open ground where she has room to morph back to her dragon form. The long grass is still flattened. “As far as Atticus is concerned, he had no idea.”
“I can’t wait to tell him he’s into bestiality.” I hold up my hands in surrender. “Not that I’m calling you a beast.”
Her brow furrows and sadness collects on her beautiful face. “I fear you may never have the opportunity to do so.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
ATTICUS
“My arse needs a break,” Kazimir complains.
“Stop whining. We’re almost there. The camp is over that ridge up ahead.” We’ve been riding hard toward the plains. The journey has taken longer than I expected, mostly because the throb in my chest has been too much to bear at times. This is new for me—to have pain linger for so long. Feeding will help, but there are no options until we join my army where several marked mortals wait. If I can bring myself to take a vein from anyone other than Gracen. I sensed the jealousy that swelled in her with the idea that I would take from someone else. It was endearing. I don’t want to disappoint her.
And after tonight, I might not have to.
Hudem’s moon is a silver coin hanging low in the sky, casting its brilliant light over the rolling hills. It’s a beautiful sight, and yet all I want to do is feel Gracen’s naked body against mine. That I can’t be there spikes my rage against these eastern traitors. But anger is good. Anger means I’ll fight harder.
Ryker surveys the hills around us. “Shouldn’t a scout have doubled back for us by now? They knew we’d be coming.” The young soldier is usually the one I send between companies.
“Rhodes probably forgot.” He’s never led an army of men on his own before. Still, I goad my horse to pick up his pace.
We crest the ridge just as the sun tucks behind the western horizon, its last rays bathing the ground ahead.
“What in fates …” Kazimir gasps as we take in the disaster. The field is littered with bodies, some only feet away from us. Tents are slashed, cookfires smoldering. I see a few eastern and Kierish crests on armor, but there are far more of the Cirilean flame.
My Cirilean army, decimated.
Kettling’s green-and-gold banner waves in the breeze high up ahead, staked into the grassy knoll. Next to it, the vibrant silver and red of Ostros flutters.