Page 61 of Kept

I bared my fangs and hissed. “Don’t betray me again.”

“N-Never,” he rasped. He fell into a fervent babble. “Never, my king. High Priest. I will s-spend the rest of my days speaking for you and the queen…a-and Lord Varick. If any dare to impugn you, I will be a mighty sword of the gods—”

“Shut up.”

He clamped his lips together.

“That goes for the rest of you too.” I turned and strode toward the altar, where my wife and husband waited. “Now fuck off.”

Chapter Seventeen

VARICK

By late afternoon, the knights from the Wastes had killed enough humans to send the Sithistrans fleeing the city.

By nightfall, crimson and black banners bearing the night-blooming rose of Nor Doru flew from the spires of the Midnight Palace.

Scouts reported that the humans had retreated across the Rift.

I didn’t fool myself into thinking they would stay there.

“Lord Rellan overplayed his hand,” I told Laurent now, “but if he’s the experienced commander we think he is, you can be certain he’s regrouping.”

“Do you think that’s why the humans retreated so quickly?” Laurent asked.

“I think we should count on that being the case.”

Laurent nodded. He sat at the head of the stone table map of Ter Isir. It was nearly midnight, and the Council chamber was much emptier than usual. Given sat at Laurent’s right hand. I stood beside her so I could point out troop locations. Captains Radu and Drago occupied seats at the opposite end of the table, their elbows planted in the Blacktop Mountains and the Meadowlands, respectively.

Jordan was still conspicuously absent. I hadn’t seen him since he and I spoke in the manor house’s library. His final words to me lingered in my mind. I resisted the urge to examine them too closely—or to attempt to decipher just what I’d seen in his blue eyes as he turned from the door.

His absence was for the best. I had no time for fickle mages. Right now, a full-scale war brewed on Nor Doru’s doorstep. I had to figure out what to do next. Not tomorrow or some undefined point in the future. Now.

The only other soul in the chamber was Sergiu of Lar Bassa. After speaking with him, I was confident he’d taken no part in Lar Guna’s plans. So far tonight, Lar Bassa had been quiet and attentive, occasionally asking smart, pointed questions. He hadn’t said anything irritating yet. That was a bonus.

Laurent studied the miniature Rift that bisected the table. “The gods gave me a gift today. Doru himself granted me the power to kill without tiring. I don’t know how long this gift will last. A day or two. Perhaps forever. But right now, it resides on my tongue.”

No one spoke. Around the table, everyone remained still, their faces showing various degrees of wonder and fear. Everyone in the room had seen the god. I could happily go the rest of my life without seeing him again.

I’d never felt so helpless as I did in the Sanctum today. It was bad enough seeing Laurent drain himself, but then Given had abruptly lost consciousness. I’d frozen in panic, unsure how to help—or if I even could.

Then I’d looked up and into the face of Doru, the god of life and death and blood. Nor Doru’s chief deity. To look into his eyes was to stare into the mystery and terror of death.

“This power changes everything,” Laurent said quietly. He met my gaze. “I believe we should use it immediately. Tonight.”

Drago nodded. “We’ll have the advantage of fighting under cover of darkness. Without the sun and their mirrors, the humans are greatly diminished.”

“They’re also reeling from today’s losses,” Radu added. He pointed to the map. “Our scouts report Lord Rellan and his son, Edwin, are camped about a half mile behind the Sithistran edge of the Rift. The fact that they’ve pulled back that far likely means they’re digging in and preparing for a fight on southern soil.”

Drago grunted. “We don’t want to give them an opportunity to dig trenches. The land around the Rift is open and flat. If the humans spread out, we’ll have no easy way around their lines. Motivated soldiers can dig in deep within a few hours. Come morning, they could have a wall of mirrors shining in our faces.”

“Yes,” Given said, “but the mirrors won’t help them at night.”

“A fair point, my queen,” Drago said. “However, the daytime remains a vicious enemy. The Bleak Pass is the only way across the Rift. Our knights can’t risk crossing and getting trapped by the humans’ mirrors. Rellan knows this, so you can bet he’ll have his soldiers on high alert during the night. Each assault we launch will be met with the full resistance of the South.”

I folded my arms as I stared at the table. “Captain Drago is right. The sun restricts us, limiting us to nighttime battle. Rellan will be prepared for it. Every time we attack, he can pick us off a bit at a time. And he can spend all day shifting his men around and laying new traps. Worse, we no longer have the Deepnight to shield us if we need to retreat. The daylight hours are a major vulnerability on both sides of the Rift.”

Lar Bassa spoke up. “Lord Rellan undoubtedly knows his history. Nor Doru had never lost a battle to the South until Lar Katerin fell. It’s possible Rellan expects us to immediately throw everything we have at him, especially now that we’ve forced the Sithistrans from the city.”

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