Page 150 of A Reign of Embers

I spin toward Bastien. The prince of Cotea hasn’t let go of the tent post he’s using to ground himself, his dark green eyes as vacant and bloodshot as they were when I first looked him over. His head twitches as he attempts to follow the battle by sound alone.

I step closer. “Bastien, do you have enough energy to use your gift again?”

He lets out a raw chuckle. “As well as I can.”

I grip his shoulder. “We’ll work it together. I’ll be your eyes, like Lorenzo is being Raul’s hands right now. And when this is over, I’ll see that the medics get youyoureyes back.”

“As long as we get to the point where you can ask them to try, I don’t even care about the outcome.” He rests his palm over my knuckles. “Let me know when and what, and we’ll make it happen.”

I stir the potion again, wishing every minute didn’t feel like an eternity. The gasps and thuds of falling bodies jolt through my nerves. At the corner of my eye, Kassun’s slumped body haunts me.

I tried to let him go. If he’d let me take him off duty a week ago…

Would I have died in that case, without him adding to my defense? Would he really have preferred that outcome?

I swallow hard and keep stirring.

When I peer down at the pot and my gift tells me it’s ready, a gasp of my own rushes out of me. “Now. We need to fling this concoction over as much of Valerisse’s army as we can.”

Hot as it is, it’ll be a stinging sort of rain, but I can’t help that.

Bastien links his arm with mine. The clouds overhead start to churn, but their moisture is already dispelled.

This rainfall will be only my brew.

The prince of Cotea takes a slow breath. “Look where you want the wind to go. Think about the healing you’re trying to do. That seems like the best way to merge our gifts.”

I stare down at the cauldron, imagining the air whipping down and scooping up the greenish liquid. Picturing the serene glow that’s appeared to me in visions before spreading across the fields with its patter.

A gust warbles past me and plunges into the cauldron. With a lurch of my heart, I flick my gaze toward the soldiers I want to aim the contents at.

A flurry of pale green flings from the cauldron up into the air and streams over the heads of our allies. I will it farther, faster, not even entirely sure how much I’m controlling it now and how much Bastien is simply directing it through impressions he’s getting from me.

It streaks out against the lightening blue of the sky—and splatters across the center of Valerisse’s army.

I don’t know how many soldiers the droplets hit, how many got enough of the spray for the effects to take hold. The uniformed figures barely flinch at the impact.

Then a man in their midst lets out a bellowing laugh. Heswings his arms around another man braced next to him, engulfing his colleague in an insistent hug.

Before my eyes, more guffaws and giggles break out through the army. Someone starts singing a hopeful children’s tune. Friendly voices carry through the clatter of the fighting.

It isn’t a huge number of them, but they’re disrupting the soldiers nearby: with embraces and eager chattering and tugging them into playful dances. Even though my stomach remains balled tight, a small smile tugs at my lips.

Elox is making a point indeed—perhaps with a little inspiration from Inganne. The desire for peace and joy can be just as much an obstacle to an enemy as a blade or a boulder can.

And no doubt this approach is more effective than any other I could have taken. If the soldiers my potion struck crumpled with wounds or poisoning, their fellows would push forward with even more desire to strike me down. If I’d turned them hostile to their colleagues, it’d be easier for those colleagues to fight back.

Instead, they’re being faced with the men and women they’ve been preparing alongside for weeks offering affection rather than violence. Reminding them of what they might be giving up in their lives back home if they see this battle through to the bitter end.

Will it be enough?

Raul and Lorenzo’s joint effort keeps tripping up the soldiers along the front lines, but the mass of Valerisse’s army is still cutting down our own people all along the base of the hill. More gifts blare and blast on both sides. Our ranks look far too thin.

We haven’t turned the tide yet. Maybe with just a little more…

I turn to Marc, meaning to suggest that we try again orthat I brew another batch, and see that he’s squinting at the distant hills. My gaze ticks to follow his.

More soldiers are approaching, one mass to the northwest and another, larger one to the northeast. Their uniforms glower with the same black base and white bones as the enemy we’re already engaged with.

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