“Ah, there you are, Mak. I was about to send someone–” he cut himself off when I appeared behind the crimson-eyed male. “Szélhámos.”

Heat crept to my cheeks as all the males turned to look at me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt this…” I trailed off, unsure what to call the gathering.

“We’re talking about…about what happened to us,” Mak told me quietly. I looked up at him, noting then just how young he was. Barely of age at most, with the build of a male who hadn’t quite come into his form. Yet that innocence that so often accompanied coming of age had been stripped away entirely.

My attention drifted to the others, vision blurred from unshed tears. “I’ll be on my way so you can continue.”

The leader rose, gesturing for Mak to return to his chair. The soldier did as he was ordered. But instead of dismissing me, the well-dressed male went behind him and fetched another chair. “Why don’t you join us?”

All I could do was blink at him as he scooted the seats around to place the now-empty one beside his. I took a hesitant step forward, scanning the group. These males weren’t used to females, let alone veilless ones. Or ones that were mated to their exalted leader. Every instinct told me to decline. Yet when I’d spoken of my trauma with Kiira, I’d felt infinitely lighter afterward. And with the weight of everything I’d experienced in the past few months, I certainly could use an unburdening. “Only if I won’t be an intrusion.”

“On the contrary. I believe the presence of someone so revered would help these soldiers feel heard,” the cherry-eyed male said. A few of the others nodded their assent, though some regarded me with a hint of reservation.

My feet moved before I registered what they were doing. I planted myself in the chair, meeting the gaze of each soldier before me. “Thank you for allowing me to sit with you.”

“Why don’t we each introduce ourselves to the Szélhámos. I’ll go first. I’m Exen, brain healer for Fured.” He dipped his head in the direction of the male beside him.

“I am Thal, Szélhámos. You are welcome in this group, as all are.” This one looked more weathered, like he’d been in the army years instead of months like many of the other males.

“Pleased to meet you, Thal,” I replied. Each soldier gave his name in turn, and I thanked them all for their service and letting me join them.

Exen resumed the discussion once all had finished. “Mak, what delayed your return?”

All attention fell on the crimson-eyed male. Yet it wasn’t the heavy, judgmental type I’d been on the receiving end for far too long. Instead, each regarded him with openness and empathy.

Mak swallowed hard. “When the gong rang…” The male beside him gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. Mak exhaled, then continued. “It reminded me of an illusion an Angel forced on me. Bells pealing everywhere, like we’d won a great victory. When I realized I’d been tricked and shook myself out of it, my best friend was in front of me, a spear through his middle. He–he gave his life for me. Because I wasn’t paying attention to my mind, keeping myself grounded in reality to prevent those insects from using such magic on me.”

Many of the males shifted in their seats or looked down at the floor. My heart ached for Mak, for all of these soldiers. I’d blamed myself for the deaths of everyone I loved too.

A few more added stories of how they’d lost friends or brothers to the Angels. As the hour passed, I learned that most were here because of how they’d died. One tragic story after another squeezed my ribs.

The males comforted each other with small touches, words of encouragement, and shared feelings. Exen expertly handled each passing moment, drawing out words when a soldier struggled to voice his dark memories. Shadows slipped around them while they recounted it, and I watched in rapt fascination as some of their emotion abated.

After the session, I had to ask him how it worked.

Eventually, he turned his attention to me. “Szélhámos, you have been part of this army for months now. Is there anything you’d like to share?”

The faces of everyone I’d lost flashed through my mind. My mother, my father, my sister…but they’d all been during the plague. The common theme among the males had been friends. And two losses in particular still weighed heavily on me.

“My best friend died trying to protect me too,” I whispered, allowing two tears to fall for Olrus. Another fell for Izgath. Despite how far we were from Uzhhorod, the scent of scorched flesh filled my nostrils. He’d remained honorable even as they burned him alive on a pyre for refusing to share my true identity. Yet I couldn’t speak about him, not without revealing secrets Rokath and I would rather not share. I’d atoned for that with my rescue of Zurronar, and was far more at peace with it than I was with Olrus.

Mak met my gaze. “How do you live with it?”

A watery laugh escaped me at the memory of those final moments with our gardener. “Before I left, he told me that I needed to make my life worth living. To forget about him and focus on myself. To have adventures. I don’t think either of us could have imagined where my path would take me.”

I swiped the wetness from my cheeks with the back of my hand as the memory of Kiira’s note slammed into me and stole my breath. “It wasn’t until we were deep in the desert that I heard of his passing. It shattered me.”

I paused, dragging in a serrated breath while my tattered heart beat against my ribs. The males waited for me to gather myself. Not a hint of condemnation spilled from them at my outward display of emotion. None looked at me like I was lesser than for my tears.

For the first time since I’d stepped into the darkness of leading them alongside Rokath, I felt…respected in my vulnerability.

“I still think of him often, usually late in the night. But I sleep knowing that I am fulfilling his wish for me. That he’d want me to make something of myself. Because then his sacrifice was worth it.”

“That’s why we have to win this war,” another murmured.

I turned my attention to him. “Exactly. And we will win.” My voice grew stronger, steadier. I straightened my spine. “You are all so brave, battling for your realm. Protecting those you love. Sacrifices are an unfortunate part of this war. I am so grateful for you, as our dead friends were grateful for us. Together, we will honor their memory.”

Several added their assent. Exen caught my eye, giving me a slight dip of his chin. The approval swelled in my chest, healing another piece of me. In fact, the entire hour had helped me see my trauma in a new light. The males too looked at me, not as the mate of the Halálhívó, not as the Szélhámos, but as an equal to them.

And that was the greatest gift of all.

“Thank you for allowing me into your session,” I said, voice thick with emotion.

Exen picked up a small clock from the floor beside him. “We’re only a minute from the next gong. If you need to prepare, now is the time.”

A handful of males, including Mak, rose and went to a far corner of the room, where thick cushions lined the walls. From a small table, many grabbed balls of cotton and shoved them into their ears.

The rest grabbed chairs and arranged them in neat stacks, out of the way. Then, they approached their brothers and sat with them all through the tolling. Jaws clenched. Fingers curled. Nostrils flared.

Exen stood beside me, watching the group until the last sound faded. Then, with trained efficiency, they gathered their belongings and headed for the door. Most stopped to salute me, warming me from the inside out.

“How are you feeling, Szélhámos?” Exen asked as the last few made their way to the hall beyond.

“Awed. Heartbroken. So many things.” I let out a small, breathy laugh. “Do you do this often?”

“Several times a day. It is heavy work, and some days are more draining than others. But giving these soldiers the relief they need makes it all worth it,” he replied.