Rapp’s attention landed on me, and the smile slipped from his face. “You saved my life.”

“It’s not the first time,” I said dismissively.

Rapp snorted a laugh. “No, but I’d never been on the brink of death any of the other times.”

My throat worked at the reminder. I cleared it to banish the emotion. “We’re taking you with us to Fured to recover.”

“I’ll be fine in a few days,” Rapp protested, much to the approaching lead healer’s chagrin.

“More like a few months, Hadvezér,” he said, setting a tray of water and food on a nearby table. “Your left lung was severely injured, and it will take time for it to heal enough for you to lift anything, let alone draw a bow.”

Rapp rolled his eyes, then leaned toward Assyria. Whispering conspiratorially, he said, “These healers don’t know what they’re talking about. All of them, overcautious. I’m a true warrior and pain doesn’t bother me.”

“How much poppy have you been giving him?” I asked the lead healer.

Rapp shot me a glare. Satisfaction curled through me at the reversal of our roles. Normally, I was the grumpy one who refused to care for himself while Rapp was the one forcing me to rest.

“Enough,” the lead healer sighed, reaching for the bandage. Rapp winced as he peeled it off, dried flakes of blood coming with it. The thick lines of stitches stood angry against his skin.

He glanced down at them and whistled. “That’s going to scar.”

“You’re alive,” the lead healer quipped, bringing a wet cloth to the wound and gently dabbing it. It smelled slightly of aloe, which grew abundantly at the mouth of the canyon that led from Ustlyak and into Lutsk. At least it was available to use while we waited for more pium.

When the lead healer finished, he went to the tray and tried to feed Rapp. The Hadvezér shooed him away. “I can do it myself.”

“No, you can’t,” he grumbled.

“I’ll do it,” Assyria jumped in. “Surely you have other patients who need tending. We can speak with Hadvezér Rapp while he eats, catch him up on everything he’s missed?” She glanced at me as if she was waiting for me to confirm that was okay.

I nodded, pride blooming in my chest at how hard she was working to take charge. It was foreign to me, not being the one to lead the conversation and make the rules. But I found myself loving Assyria harnessing her fire more with each passing day. It had been a struggle at first, but she fought to stand beside me with enough fervor that I relented.

Mostly.

The lead healer acquiesced, promising to return later to rebandage Rapp’s chest.

Assyria propped herself on a sliver of space beside Rapp. I pulled the table closer to her so she could easily reach the food, then fetched myself a chair.

“This is such horseshit,” he muttered as Assyria lifted a bowl of clear soup to his lips. She grinned widely at him.

“Take a sip and I’ll tell you what happened while you were out,” I offered, trying to hide my amusement as I baited him.

“Fuck you, Rokath,” he grumbled, then did as I bid.

“Good boy,” I said, leaning back and crossing my arms.

He glared again. I was starting to see why Rapp enjoyed teasing me so much. “Assyria was successful in rescuing Banand and Zurronar, along with a few others. She also burned about a quarter of the Angel’s camp to ashes.”

Rapp slurped the last of the soup, brows raising. When Assyria took it away, he said, “That’s badass. Who knew you had it in you to be so vicious?”

She shrugged, then grabbed him a roll and tore a piece off. “I suppose you and Rokath are rubbing off on me. But I did kill my husband and then snuck into the army to avoid being executed, so I think it was there all along.”

Rapp laughed, then his brows pinched. “Fuck that hurt. Try not to be funny.”

“Sorry,” Assyria said, giving his good shoulder a gentle squeeze. That primal protective part of me thrashed to the surface, wanting to snatch her away from him because she was mine. I smacked it away and reminded it that Rapp was no threat to my mate.

“The camp now refers to Assyria as Szélhámos,” I added.

“Guess you should tell Kiira to add her to the prayers now,” Rapp said around a mouthful of food.

“You can tell her yourself when you see her in Fured,” I commented.

Rapp quirked a brow, causing the studs pierced above it to flash in the light. “She’ll be there?”

“The Kral too,” I noted. Assyria fed him more bread, and color returned to his cheeks.

“I think that’s all I can handle for now,” he said after the roll was gone. “Apparently it’s been days since I’ve eaten and my stomach is reminding me of that now.”

“Do you need to rest?” I asked him.

He shifted against the pillows as Assyria rose. “Some water, and then yes.”

Assyria squeezed the end of an aloe arm into the cup waiting for Rapp, then lifted it to his lips. He drank three gulps before sitting back again. “So when do we leave for Fured?”

“Have you come around to the idea then?” I questioned, cocking my head to the side.

“I don’t think I have much of a choice, do I?” he sighed, his tongue digging into his cheek.

“No,” I told him. “We’re leaving tomorrow now that you’re awake. I’ll have a special wagon prepared for you since you’re incapable of riding.”

Rapp muttered some choice words under his breath but finally nodded. “I hate being an invalid.”

In that way, we were extremely alike. I rose from my seat and approached him. Assyria backed away to give us some space. “I know. But I’m so fucking glad you are alive.” My throat thickened, and again I cleared it. “I couldn’t win this war without you.” My mind flickered to the days after I’d been forced to kill Thast and how Rapp hadn’t left my side. How he’d forced me to eat, to drink some water. To find purpose in swinging a sword again. Before that, he’d been my friend. And after? He’d been the brother I never had.

“Aw, Rokath, don’t get all sentimental on me now,” he teased, and a low growl rumbled in my chest. The tables were once again turning, and not in a way I appreciated. “But you’re right, and you definitely need me. So I’ll recover and then we rip Zaph’s head from his shoulders along with the fucking Zahal’s. Deal?”

The words were as much reassurance for him as they were for me. “Deal,” I agreed, straightening his tunic for him. “Rest now, and we’ll fetch you in the morning.”

Nodding, he tipped his head back and closed his eyes. We departed the healer’s tent in silence, both of us unable to tear our gaze away from him until the darkness of the space swallowed him.

The sun blazed overhead as we trekked down the main thoroughfare. Assyria halted midstep, and I slowed, facing her. She adjusted her scarf, her gaze lifting to meet mine.

The fire in her eyes was renewed, reinvigorated, and ravenous.

In them burned a promise: we’d burn whatever stood between us and victory.

And from the ashes, we’d build a world where no female ever had to hide who she was again.

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***

The Kral perched atop his throne, his crown glittering as light spilled in from the opulent windows. Beside him, the Halálhívó stood, arms crossed over his armored chest. Since the death of their fathers, he’d remained by his cousin’s side, providing protection until a suitable unit to guard him could be trained up to his high standards.

The newly-appointed High Priestess swept into the room a moment later, her long, modest black dress swishing over the polished floors. A sheer black veil hid her features, while a circlet atop her brow held it in place.

“What do you think?” she asked her cousins, giving a slow twirl to reveal her ensemble.