“That’s a bad omen,” I said to no one in particular.

Dromak snorted. “The Fates have fucked us over so far, what’s another wet thread in their tapestry?”

His blatant blasphemy took me by surprise. It wasn’t that I disagreed with his statement, but rather Vagach would be fuming if I had said something similar. With how I’d already failed this morning, I couldn’t risk letting it slide.

“Do you not fear for your soul?” I asked the male, trying to don Vagach’s haughty demeanor.

“I’ve got millenia to make up for a few words against the Fates,” he grinned, his cheeks crinkling with amusement. Then he turned his attention to Jaku. “We might need to use our shadows if the wagons get stuck in the mud.”

“Aye, we must make haste. Don’t allow the rain to slow us down,” Jaku warned, loosening the reins and allowing his horse to jump forward. “Vagach, Izgath, manage the rear today. Don’t let the footsoldiers fall behind and ensure the wagons keep moving. Recruit whomever you need to make it happen.”

Izgath offered the Százados a closed fist salute, and I hurriedly mimicked him. Then, Jaku, Uzadaan, and Dromak spurred their horses forward, trotting along the line until they disappeared around a bend in the road ahead. The last of the recruits trundled out of the woods, alongside the final supply wagon, and then we were off, continuing our trek north and headed straight into the oncoming storm.

The clouds broke an hour before we were set to make camp, thunder shaking the ground beneath our feet and lightning splitting the sky overhead. The torrential rain immediately slicked the road, and from the disrepair of the section we traversed, wheels sank into sloppy mud immediately.

“Add more shadow to the left side,” Izgath called over the noise. I braced both hands against the smooth wet wood and added what little shadow I could spare beneath the wheel, trying to right the wagon. Beside me, a handful of soldiers offered their own, combining the black tendrils into a solid rope capable of managing the weight above it.

“Aye,” I gritted out, sweat pouring down my torso and mixing with the rain that plastered my shirt to me.

“Forward!” Izgath shouted to the two males standing at the horses’ heads. They tugged on their bridles, encouraging them to dig in and pull. Their hooves squelched and their breath fogged the air as they strained.

“More,” I commanded those working with me, while Dromak yelled at the ones pushing from the rear. One of them slipped, landing on hands and knees in the mud. The shadows thickened, leveling the wagon out for a split second, and then it groaned forward and out of the hole.

Saved by the Weaver.

The black tendrils disappeared, and we rushed to the rear, slipping and pushing to give the horses enough extra momentum to carry the heavy wagon onward.

“A fucking sled would be better at this rate,” Dromak grumbled when we stepped back and watched it trundle forward. Squinting, I found Uzadaan and Jaku some distance away, directing a different wagon toward the side of the road where the earth was smoother.

“No kidding,” Izgath commented, wiping his hands on his leather pants and failing to remove any mud from them. None of us looked much better. My boots were soaked through, as were my linen clothes. They clung to every disgusting part of Vagach’s body, and I wanted nothing more than to get out of them.

“Will we stop soon?” I asked, trying to keep the utter exhaustion from my voice. I desperately needed sleep, dry clothes, and my own body.

“At this rate, we’ll have to,” Dromak said. “We can’t push through much longer, not when there’s not a break in the clouds as far as I can see.”

Other than the copses of trees dotting the side of the road, this area was relatively flat, and on a clear day, it would have been possible to see miles into the distance. But through the torrent of rain and the mist clinging to everything, it was nearly impossible to see the front of the squad.

Izgath moved to stand beside me as Dromak strode away, no doubt aiming for Jaku to suggest that we call it a day. My chest still heaved from the effort, and I checked my magic well as my heart rate slowed. Judging by the gray color of the shadows and their wispiness, I’d run out soon. My heart plummeted to my stomach.

“So what’s your power?” Izgath asked, and I nearly fainted.

Can he read my mind?

I swallowed and kept my gaze straight ahead. “Why do you ask?” I said as casually as I could, hoping he wouldn’t insist on seeing a demonstration of my ‘power.’ I’d never tried to mimic the magic of another while wearing their form, and I wondered if it was even possible. Vagach was a Corrupter, which meant that his secondary gift could be used to corrode metals, spread decay, or any number of other inherently harmful things. It was fairly useless for a farm community, where the opposite power would have made an enormous difference in people’s lives.

It would have made an enormous difference on the battlefield too.

“I’m an Incubus,” Izgath offered, taking a step forward into the muck. I remained rooted into the earth.

Fates, can he tell I’m female beneath this exterior?

I’d never met an Incubus before, though Priestess Anara warned against the lustful, sinful thoughts that would enter our heads should we land in the crosshairs of one. They’d make their victims bend in unnatural ways while they took what they wanted from us, using us only for their pleasure. We were supposed to be submissive, yes, but only in a demure, delicate way that spoke of our purity and piety. Falling prey to one would only lead to us having F’s branded into our wrist and marked as a fallen female. Our only option then would be employment in a fallen house, forced to bear children for anyone and everyone who wanted to use our bodies, Priestess Anara had warned as a way to force compliance.

Of course, males seduced by ones remained unpunished, as males were the only ones allowed to seek pleasure. They could spread their seed endlessly and were thoroughly encouraged to do so. Coupling with another male did nothing to harm their virility.

“Are you coming?” he asked over his shoulder, and I shook myself from my shock and strode forward, careful not to slip in the mud.

“An Incubus,” I repeated, falling into step with him.

“That is what I said,” he grinned. A shiver worked its way down my spine. “So what are you?”

“A Corrupter.” The words slipped out before I could clamp my mouth shut, and I kicked myself internally for revealing it. My mind was still spinning over Izgath’s power and my currently failing one.

His dark brows shot up his forehead. “Impressive. They’ll have you on the front lines for sure.”

That was what I was afraid of. I couldn’t pull it off, which meant that I would need to exit the group as quickly and quietly as I could once we reached the capital, where it would be easier to blend in and slip away. At least by then, I’d have plenty of practice maintaining the form of another all hours of the day. I’d need it to hide my burgundy eyes from anyone who’d want to exploit my power.

We’d caught up to the group again, and when Izgath shrugged and opened his mouth to speak, Uzadaan jogged through the throng toward us. My eyes snagged on the teeth he’d filed down to an even sharper point. “We’re going to make camp in those trees.” He pointed off the road to our left. The big, leafy canopies would certainly provide some shelter from the storm. As if it could hear my thoughts, lightning cracked overhead, and one of the horses tied to the side of a wagon whinnied and tried to bolt. He didn’t get far, not when his reins went taught and he was dragged back into place.

“Any instructions?” Izgath asked, ever the dutiful Vezető.