I looked past him and leveled a heavy gaze on Zurronar. “Your fate is tied to theirs. Take the High Priestess with you. If you want the title of Parancsok, your next actions will make or break our decision on the matter.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, shoving to his feet and giving us a salute.

“Dismissed,” I grumbled, since we were back to formalities now. Kiira dipped her chin to me, affirming she knew what to do. She’d be the best to observe this, given how in tune she was with the Fates.

The three of them swept into the chilly afternoon sun, leaving Assyria, Rapp, and me alone. I pinched the bridge of my nose and let out a long breath. “Fuck I was not expecting that.”

“Nor I,” Rapp grumbled, easing to the ground beside the half-finished group of bones we’d been working on. I joined him a moment later, cursing again when I realized the adhesive had hardened completely.

“I can warm it again,” Assyria offered, reaching for the bucket. I handed it to her, noting the tension around her mouth and eyes. Clearly this news had unnerved us all.

“We’ll figure it out, little imposter. There is nothing to fear,” I reassured her as she walked away.

She dropped the container in front of the hearth, spinning it in a steady circle so the heat of the flames licked against the edges. Without looking at me, she replied, “I’m not afraid. Just…I don’t know. What if we’ve already killed a hundred pairs like Banand and Araquiel before they ever knew the other existed?”

Her throat worked like she was raking it across the coals. “How can we continue down this path of complete extermination, knowing the bonds can cross races? Why do we have to slaughter an entire people because of their beliefs?”

“With the Angels, it’s always been kill or be killed.”

“But what if it doesn’t have to be anymore? The myth of us is spreading…and our campaign to make the Angels think one of their own is betraying them is too. We could do more to end the war than just killing.”

She wasn’t wrong, but the Angel’s beliefs were so entrenched, I wasn’t sure what she was suggesting would be at all possible.

“We tried diplomacy for a long time. So long as Koron Stadiel and Korona Iaoth sit atop the Angel’s throne, this is our only option.”

A wave of dejected sadness swept down our bond. She sighed, hefting the adhesive and returning it to us. The stench overpowered my nostrils immediately. “Then we will continue until they are dead.”

She settled on the floor, bracing her head on her folded hands. Slumped inward, she watched Rapp and I work with quiet intensity. Yet her mind was a riot of emotion, and her thoughts leaked down our bond. I wanted nothing more than to comfort her, to reassure her, that everything would be okay.

But I couldn’t promise that.

This was war.

So the three of us remained silent, save for coordinating the final pieces of Assyria’s throne, late into the night, when we gathered our gear and departed on our next mission.

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54

Achill crept into my awareness, and without thinking, I shifted closer to Rokath, seeking his warmth. Yet when I reached the spot he should have been, nothing brushed my fingers. Cracking open an eye, I realized his muscled form was missing from our bed. The barest hint of moonlight slipped through the curtain covering our window. I sat upright, a shiver wracking my frame as my skin was exposed to the cold air.

I glanced toward the bathing chamber door, finding it open and the room beyond empty.

Where has he gone?

Tapping into the magic of our bond, I sought him out. A faint thread tugged me upward, and I craned my neck, realizing he must have gone outside. I dressed, grabbing my gloves on the way out of the door. I closed it quietly behind me, not wanting to disturb the other officers in the hall. On silent feet, I made my way to the exterior stairs that led from this floor straight to the ground. The night guard nodded to me and opened the door to outside. Yet instead of taking them down, I called upon my wings and sailed higher.

Air froze in my lungs as I beheld my mate. The white of the stars and moon bathed him in a glow, sharply contrasted with the black of the night on his other side. His severe features were cast in haunting relief—the tear in his ear, the heavy set of his brow, the slight crook in his nose. Gingerly, I lowered myself to the roof beside him.

He didn’t look away from whatever held his attention in the distance.

“Can’t sleep?” I asked, banishing my wings. Pulling on my gloves, I settled beside him so our shoulders touched.

“Not tonight,” he murmured. “Not when I have so many questions and so few answers.”

“What’s bothering you?” I wrapped myself around his arm.

With a sigh, he leaned into me too. “Rapp, Kiira, Banand, Araquiel, Xannirin…”

“I see my name is absent from that list,” I teased, hoping to lighten his mood.

He merely grunted in response. “For once.”

“Rapp and Kiira will make it safely to their outpost. And she didn’t have another vision before they left, so that’s a good sign. Nor have we heard that she’s had another,” I reminded him. The mates that had been separated struggled, but they knew they served a higher cause. That didn’t stop my heart from aching for the female who sobbed in my arms after half a day with that third of our army gone.

When I’d offered to let her yell at some of the males who saw her as weak for doing so, she perked up. Warmth spread through my limbs at the memory. The priestesses-turned-warriors were vicious in their own right, and more than one had dressed down their male counterparts in a way that left me entirely impressed.

“I know,” he finally replied. “I’ve just never been good at drowning out the voices once they start screaming.”

“Is there anything I can do to help tonight?” All was still, and even the wind didn’t blow through the trees, relieving them of their powdery burdens.

“Just sit with me,” he said, an ache in his voice I wanted to grasp and soothe.

I scooted closer so more of my body pressed into his. Freeing his arm, he draped it around me instead and brushed his lips over my temple. I wrapped my arms around his waist, snuggling deeper into his warmth.

A small smile tugged at my lips. How odd it was to show each other such unrestrained affection when we’d been at each other’s throats over the smallest infraction during the summer.

A realization dawned on me then. “Is tonight the new year?”

“Aye,” Rokath confirmed. The moon hung fat and heavy in the sky, seeming so much closer with how high we were in the mountains that snatched for the stars like they were a delicious treat.

“Why aren’t we celebrating then?” I asked him.

“With everything that’s happened recently, I forgot until I looked at the clock when I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted.

“What did you do last year?” The new year was always a source of joy in the Demon Realm. In Stryi, the whole village took a week off of work, gathering in the square for revelry. Dancers, fire breathers, elaborate displays, and charms were abundant. It was one of the few times I left the estate while married to Vagach, simply because he headed many of the ceremonies we held during that time to venerate the Fates. Yet I’d always been kept away from the crowds, perched like an ornament far above them. Exactly how Vagach had liked me to be.

“We were trying to maintain what ground we could as the plague swept through,” Rokath deadpanned.

Guilt gnawed at my gut. Of course, they had been. I’d been grieving the loss of my family and hadn’t even left the manor, despite how Vagach had attempted to coerce me into attending. After I collapsed on the lawn, unable to carry myself forward, he’d sent me back inside.