Page 82 of The Trials of Ophelia

“What are you doing?” Mila asked as I finished saddling Ombratta.

“I’m preparing,” I retorted without looking. I took the reins, and Ombratta set a determined march from the stables toward the warriors already set out.

“I gave you an order.” As she said it, Dax and Barrett passed behind her, and we both knew that order was irrelevant. “You’re not coming.” It was her general’s voice following us, stepping in front of me and pinning me with a hardened stare. Commanding me.

“I can’t keep sitting here night after night and not doing anything.” My fingers tightened on the leather. “I can’t keep hiding.”

She searched my expression, but kept up her guard. “You haven’t completed the Undertaking.”

“Spirits, Mila, you know as well as I do you can wave that rule.” A week ago, I wouldn’t have pushed, but Lyria’s words had stirred in my mind for days. I wanted to display even a modicum of the strength she and Mila had. But I didn’t have the time or the desire to complete the ritual. “Right here, right now, our general can declare I fight with the army regardless.”

“Malakai, you…” For the first time since the horn sounded, Mila softened. It was clear she didn’t want to say it. “Do you think it is wise?”

No, I didn’t fucking think it was wise. It was an awful idea for me to be on a battlefield with my…state. But waiting here would be even worse. I’d be driven crazy not knowing the outcome and feel like a damn coward while I was at it. Even now, the roaring rushed my ears.

“It’s the only option.” I skirted the question. Gripping the pommel, I swung myself into the saddle and looked down at Mila.

She chewed her lip, clearly warring with herself. “You need to train more, Malakai. You’re putting yourself in danger.”

“That’s my reckless decision to make, then.” It was growing quieter around us as most of the legion had marched off. Camp still buzzed with activity, a second line preparing to fight if the first couldn’t hold off the Engrossians, but here it was only us.

“Why?” Mila asked.

“Because…I need to see it.” Needed to reinforce the atrocities Lucidius had been responsible for after everything I’d learned recently. Needed to be fucking useful when I had no clue how to do so. If I got myself hurt, that was my problem, but I’d be damned to the Spirit Realm before I stayed here.

Locked up.

Cowardly.

Alone.

Mila swallowed, shaking her head, and locked up the wall to her fortress. “You stay at the back. Remember what we told you of the power Kakias has over them; they’re efficient but messy when too focused on a target. Use that to your advantage. If you can get to the ridge where the archers are stationed, stay there. If not, I hope you’re ready.”

Without another word, she mounted her own horse and flew off into the night.

Warmth gathered in the cage in my chest. She was not going to hold me back, despite our fight. Didn’t tell me I was incapable of this. Instead, she gave me advice and went on her way.

Nudging Ombratta, we followed the path Mila’s mare cut through the mountains, my breath gathering before me, and I prayed to Damien that I wasn’t making the worst fucking mistake of my life.

As we approached the western border, I heard it.

The familiar roar of warriors bearing down on one another. Sharp clashes of weapons that only came with brutal, desperate warfare. An abrupt drop off of a gargled scream as it was silenced by an enemy’s blade. Metallic death coated the air.

Mila had pulled ahead of me before we arrived, disappearing down the incline leading into the melee. At least being stationed in the mountains, we had the higher ground. Lyria and the generals had established the camp’s borders at the highest points, so we’d always see them coming should they breach or evade the troops stationed at points along the base of the mountains.

We didn’t have enough soldiers to keep the entire perimeter surrounded. Probably how they got here tonight.

Looking around above the fray, I found the highest points of the border: two peaks opposite each other, now lined by dozens of Seawatchers. Amara stood with her people, distinguished by the coral and aquamarine crest on her breastplate. I couldn’t hear the orders she shouted, but as one, the Seawatchers nocked their arrows, aimed, and let them fly. I didn’t have to hear the squelches of arrowheads through eyes and throats and skulls to know each landed.

Angels, they were incredible.

And they may have been the best asset we had in this war. From the mountainside, a team of archers was an unparalleled advantage.

My eyes bounced between their perches and the fray below. With only the moonlight to see by, it was difficult to count how many Engrossians or Mindshapers had launched the attack. But I was certain there were less of them than in our defense, as Lyria had explained.

As I watched, an Engrossian raised an ax. He swung it down with fine precision, right into the shoulder of a Mystique. I released a deep growl as the warrior fell.

Ombratta pranced beneath me.

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