Page 67 of A Monsoon Rising

After a while, she sank to her knees on the sun-warmed stone, spent, heavy with exhausted hope.

There was only one thing on her mind. She wanted to share this triumph with someone.

She wanted it to be Alaric.

It wasn’t that shemissedhim. Of course she didn’t. But he was the only one who would truly understand this feat. Perhaps if he were here he might even smile that fleeting, crooked grin—

Talasyn put her fingers to her mouth and whistled. As her messenger eagle glided over to the campsite from where it had been patrolling the skies, she pulled out the stylus and ink set from her pack, along with a fresh sheet of parchment, and began to write, determinedly ignoring the stuttering of her pulse.

It’s nothing,she told herself over and over.

At the edge of the Citadel, between the obsidian gates and the barren plains, thick plumes of shadow magic tore through the air.

The Sever wasn’t active. All that raw, screeching energy was coming from the Night Emperor, who stood in the center of a protective ring of darkness that rose and dipped and flowed as though it were made of black fire. The ring stalwartly bore theattacks launched at it from all sides by a dozen legionnaires, growling and sparking silver every time a shadowy blade collided against it.

Alaric’s strength was beginning to wane. The exercise had been going on for almost an hour, which was far longer than he’d managed in previous sessions, but it still wasn’t good enough. His gaze remained fixed on the timepiece on the barren ground at his feet. Just a little while longer …

A vicious-looking greataxe broke through the ring. Its wielder, Nisene, swung the head at Alaric, who quickly dodged to the side and at the same time dismissed the barrier with a hiss of frustration. The axe and all the other weapons surrounding him winked out of existence, and the gray training grounds were still once more.

Alaric curtly ordered his legionnaires back to the Citadel. They turned and trooped toward the tall gates, Nisene shooting him a triumphant smirk over her shoulder. Soon only Alaric and Sevraim were left outside the walls, under the watchful eyes of the sentries posted above.

Alaric crossed his arms and arched a brow at the other man. “You are still here because …?”

“Just wanted to tell you that none of us could have done better today,” Sevraim quietly replied, “and it’s probably all right if you got some rest.”

“None of you carry the fate of entire civilizations,” Alaric shot back. “For whatever reason, that burden has fallen to me. I’ll rest after the Moonless Dark.”

Sevraim grimaced. “If we return to Nenavar with you looking like death and too exhausted to hold back the Voidfell, your wife will—”

“Weare not returning to Nenavar,” Alaric corrected him. “You and the other legionnaires are staying here, to assist withthe evacuations. And, on the night of reckoning, you will all be on the ships heading north, away from the blast.”

Sevraim paled. “I can’t let you go alone.”

“I’m not asking for your permission. This is an order.”

“But—”

Alaric held up an imperious hand. It was a command for silence that he rarely used on Sevraim, and the latter fell into a mutinous silence.

“Should Talasyn and I not be successful,” Alaric said, “there is still a chance you and the other Kesathese will survive. If so, I need you to be with my father, to sway him from any warmongering, any rash course of action. I need you to get him to focus on rehabilitating the Continent after death magic sweeps through it.”

“The Regent is not going to listen tome.” Sevraim was aggrieved. “He still thinks of me as that initiate who organized a party in the barracks and got everyone foxed before the oathtaking.”

“You will have to try.” Alaric’s tone was firm. “Should I not return from the Dominion, this is going to be the last thing I ever ask of you.”

The legionnaire stared at Alaric, looking stricken. Alaric felt his own jumble of emotions rising to the surface, but he forced it back down with a clearing of his throat. “If I die and Talasyn lives,” he continued, “I charge you with protecting her. From my father, and whoever else.”

“You have to tell me why,” Sevraim said with a hint of startling, uncharacteristic fierceness. “I deserve that, I think. You’re asking me to abandon you—my commander, myfriend—and carry out your bidding after you’re gone. So, at the very least, tell me why you would still care about the Lightweaver’s fate even from beyond the willows.”

Alaric swallowed. What could he say beneath this gray sky, against these black walls? What did he owe to this person who had been by his side through everything since they were boys?

How could he even begin to explain what he felt whenever he thought of Talasyn?

How much he missed her?

Helpless anger flickered through him. He shouldn’t even be in this situation in the first place. He’d gone soft, and Sevraim was taking him to task for it.

“Will you do it or not?” he demanded. “If you don’t feel capable, I’ll find someone else.”

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