Page 98 of Of Realms and Chaos

Demarcus was in a wonderful mood today—which was unfortunate for me, as I was inclined to be the opposite. For the love of Stella, why was everyone not angrier? Could they not see how close we were to war—to the end?

“I believe that you are doing a wonderful job, Your Highness.” Ugh, why did he have to be so nice? Why could he not simply be a prick like every other general to exist? Like me.

The forty-three-year-old mortal was determined to integrate his soldiers smoothly, not batting an eye when we started using magic in training sessions or teaching Behman soldiers how to use the fae’s powers against them. In fact, as we walked to the war room, the mortal general was eagerly informing me of all that I had done right since Asher and Shah sent them here.

Was it wrong of me to wish everyone would be miserable?

With an audible sigh, I recognized that I was, in fact, wrong.

“Thank you, Demarcus. You are very kind, and I think you are also doing a good job. The war council will be quite impressed by the way your soldiers are training.” Not a lie. They were far more resilient than anyone had given them credit for. Lian was, as per usual, not taking it easy on them during her private lessons. But it was the work they did when fighting beside demons that truly showed their abilities. Demarcus himself was an outstanding fighter and one of the quickest to learn how to fight against magic.

The double doors to the war room loomed ahead, my memory of the last meeting we had bringing a smile to my lips. Poor, stupid Finnick. Demarcus had begun discussing some sort of new sparring regimen, but all I could think was that Asher was traveling through Gandry, attempting to gain allies without me. I wished desperately that I could drop everything here and be with her. That I could spend every second with her before our time ran out.

With an irritated shove, I threw open the doors, watching as my captains and the four remaining war council members flinched at the sound. Even Demarcus, who was so prone to gleefully chatting, stuttered to a stop. If he had not already been sporting a head of prematurely gray hair, then I imagined he would have eventually went gray simply because of my tendency to scare him. Despite his hair, the general had flawless skin, the dark shade looking like midnight skies against his red uniform.

My own uniform was all black, small details of blue and silver stitched in swirling patterns up the arms. The others all wore uniforms as well, each sporting a beautiful silver color. Except for Damon, who instead wore the sky blue of the lieutenant general, and King Adbeel, who matched me in black.

“Ah, our fearless general, so glad you could make it.” Elrial’s words were laced with distaste, probably because I murdered his fellow war council member in front of him. Since I knew he was right to hate me, I simply smirked at him, letting him see how little I truly cared about his thoughts. This was war, but Asher was life. Without her, we would all die.

Adbeel looked less than happy with Elrial’s remarks, but I just shrugged when our eyes met. I was uninterested in arguing or attempting to prove myself to someone who would never see me as more than a pointy-eared enemy.

Demarcus and I made our way to the table that held the model of Alemthian, pulling out two of the tall wooden chairs. When we both were seated and comfortable, I began.

“We need to cut straight to the chase. It is time to take an offensive approach with the fae. As of right now, we know that their greatest asset is the demon working with them.” At that, I allowed my eyes to briefly flick towards Adbeel, watching as he flinched. It was hard not to feel guilty for being the one to break him the news. “Noe?”

“I have not seen any sign of the traitor. In fact, the royals seem to be going about their days as usual. They have yet to leave the island at all. With their added security measures, I was unable to infiltrate the palace.” Noe’s normally sultry voice took on a commanding tone, her chin high. She had pulled her golden brown hair up, her uniform the same silver as any other soldier. Still, her kohl lined eyes and red lips gave her an evocative beauty, like the sirens of Haven.

The sirens that were nearly wiped out after the battle.

But unlike them, Noe did not call to her victims with a song. Instead, she capitalized on her beauty, letting those around her underestimate what she could do then laughing as she brutally slaughtered them. But now, as she showed that startling amount of magic, allowing shadows to leak from her skin like wisps of storm clouds, Noe did the opposite. It horrified me, knowing that whatever she was about to say, she required respect and perhaps even fear to do so.

“I visited each isle, noting the numbers at every base, and it is clear they are amassing their army. However, it was Isle Shifter that left me confused. They have double the number of soldiers than we originally thought. None looked particularly young, but I have heard rumors that they lowered the conscription age.”

There it was, the thing that would spark more debate than we could afford at the moment. Letting myself sink further into my chair, I waited for the discourse to begin. It seemed Demarcus would be the first to speak.

“Conscription? You mean the fae force people—sorry, beings—to enlist in their forces? That is despicable! How young?” The disgust in the mortal general’s tone was evident, as were the mixed opinions on the faces of the others around the table.

“It seems they are choosing to pull fae as young as nineteen, which is the average age that the younglings master their powers and become full-grown fae.”

Demarcus seemed to let loose a breath of relief, but no one else did. No, we all understood that for what it was. When you lived to be thousands of years old, nineteen seemed so very young. But that was nearly a quarter of a mortal life. They did not know that at nineteen, a demon would not have even gone through The Almavet yet—the year-long experience of one’s powers doubling and their aging beginning to slow. It was the transition out of youth, and that happened around age twenty-five—six years older than those fae who would be forced to fight.

Who we would be forced to kill.

Adbeel seemed to simmer with rage, the fury on his face turning his brown skin a shade of violent red. Tensing, I waited for the stupidity that would surely come out of someone’s mouth any second.

“Good riddance. They will be easier to kill at such a young age.” Ah, there it was. Wonderfully done Nrista, wonderfully done.

Her eyes darted towards Lian quickly, a look of pure disgust pinching her face. It was something Lian dealt with more often than she should from the older demons in the military, but she did nothing more than wink at the war council member.

The older female either did not care about the anger emanating from both her king and her prince, or she was unaware of it. Either way, we were now both shaking, our eyes pinned on her.

“How dare you speak of the death of those so young as if it were nothing. They are innocent in this, Nrista. Would you feel the same way if it were your daughters being forced? Even at their age, it would still be horrible to see them donning armor and wielding swords against their will, would it not?” She shot me a glare as my furious words registered, her stiff posture telling me that she understood them for the threat they were.

I wondered if she was wishing it was I on that battlefield, against her rather than beside her. Did she wish she could slaughter me, too? Many did, and I could not—would not—blame them. I was the embodiment of all they feared and hated. Prejudice had a knack for that, turning beings against one another. But those younglings, they had done nothing but be born on the opposite side. Their deaths were not fair or right.

“Enough. We are not here to fight. The purpose of this meeting is to inform you all that I have decided to take the advice of General Ayad. We are here to begin planning an offensive approach. If Tristana is right, and I cannot recall a time she was not”—at his words of recognition, Noe nodded her head in acknowledgement—“then we need to be prepared for a much larger military than we thought.” At the king’s declaration, everyone seemed to release a collective breath, each face going stony as we began.

Though the meeting started with a sense of unease, we quickly began concocting a plan to attack The Capital. The hardest part of this would be not harming the fae in Academy. Working through that was quickly grating on my nerves, as well as Lian’s based on the look she sported. Neither of us could stand the way so many demons viewed fae life, like they were pawns to be sacrificed. Or worse, like they were lambs for slaughter.

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