Page 101 of Oath of War
‘You have my word, and if my domina were here, she would give you hers, too. Annika is ... she would understand. Look after yourself, gentle healer,’ I said as I darted towards the exit. Lara might not have heard it yet, but there were footsteps approaching, and I didn’t want to fight another monster.
I was a safe distance away when I heard her scream, ‘My lord, the prisoner, he escaped!’ I couldn’t help but smile.Wise woman. I hoped we would meet again.
I was soon lost in the winding corridors, but sneaking through castles was all too familiar to me, and I drew on my old skills to remain undetected. Glimpsing through the windows, I knewLara hadn’t exaggerated the dangers outside. The gardens were overflowing with monsters, and I wondered if Cahyon expected me to head for the portal if I escaped.
Lara was right, the port was the safest option. I smirked when I finally reached the kitchens and found the waste chute that led straight to a narrow canal.
There were several boats there—or rather their remains, most rotten and broken, but I found a small one stored on the pathway that must have been used to transport messengers. It was still sturdy enough to use, and I prayed to Jurata, goddess of the sea, to grant me safe passage.
I was returning to my domina, and there was nothing that could stop me now.
After leaving Reynard and Orm, I’d spent some time trying to piece together my broken heart. But it didn’t work, not even a little. Wherever I turned, soldiers bowed or thanked me, and their whispers followed me everywhere. None of it seemed real. How were they celebrating when so many had died?
It was at that moment I realised something. These men hadn’t expected to survive, let alone win. As I walked through the camp, I started noticing the haunted looks, the false bravado, and the looks they gave me as if I could somehow change their fate. So, even as each forced smile, each gentle pat to a bowed back, felt like a betrayal, I stopped and offered them the comfort and reassurance they needed.
At some point, Valaram, for whatever reason, decided to block my way with a concerned look on his face.
‘Annika, please let me help. Talk to me, lara’mei. Don’t let this grief fester when I can—’ he said, stepping closer, but I cut him off before he finished his sentence.
‘That is none of your concern, Ambassador. So please move.’ The harshness of my tone made him wince.
‘Perhaps not, but that ironclad rider of yours should be here for you. I ought to hammer that into his head.’
I looked at the dark fae mage. He had shadows under his eyes and he’d overused his power, and when I saw where we were, I knew he’d spent it healing everyone he could. He stepped closer, reaching for my hand, but I backed up, ignoring the forlorn look in his eyes. The expression disappeared before anyone else noticed, and his fingers curled into a fist as he dropped his hand to his side.
‘Leave Orm out of this,’ I said. ‘He has duties to attend to and can respect my wishes to be left alone. Can you do the same, or should I shatter another mountain to prove that to you?’
I was holding on by a thread. My mind was still refusing to acknowledge that Katja was gone, pretending she was safe in Varta, waiting for me there, snarky and unharmed. The last thing I needed was anyone’s compassion and the reminder that the sister of my heart was gone. Valaram had good intentions, but he didn’t understand I couldn’t talk about it right now.
‘Annika, that’s not what I was trying to say.’ He frowned, taken aback by my words.
I exhaled slowly, trying to centre myself.He just cares for you,I thought, but he was the wrong fae, it was the wrong time, and dealing with my own feelings was hard enough.
I forced a tight smile before turning away. ‘And that’s why you get to keep your pointy ears. Leave me alone, Val.I wish everyone would just leave me alone.’ The last words I’d added quietly, but I heard his deep sigh behind me.
I continued around the camp, smiling and nodding, answering polite greetings and observing as the soldiers packed to march onwards. We were heading to Katrass, and I wondered if I would lose another piece of my heart there.
Whatever physical injuries I’d received were cured by the gentle hands of our healers, but some wounds cut deeper than magic could reach. Katja’s death and the hedge witches’ sacrifice crushed not just the mountain but my spirit, leaving me numb to the world.
‘Give me that, soldier.’ I reached out to a warrior taking a deep draught from a flask. The man’s initial protest died on his lips when he saw my outstretched hand.
‘Yes, my lady ... but ’tis not a drink for woman,’ he said, passing me the foul-smelling canteen.
‘Are you saying I can’t handle it?’ I challenged. ‘Here, take this as payment.’ I weaved the aether to fix a dent in his metal breastplate. As he examined his newly repaired armour, I took a sip, and the world blurred with tears as the alcohol burned its way down my throat.
To you, Katja. Maybe if I drink myself stupid, I won’t remember the raróg’s screech and the stench of your death.
I wandered some more, drinking from the borrowed flask. I shivered, tiredness catching up, but sleep eluded me. Every time I closed my eyes, my thoughts spiralled into a vortex of shame, guilt, and anger.
The night was buzzing with activity, and I sat on a large granite outcropping in the heather field, observing as the wounded were helped and the dead were cremated. Orm and Reynard were pulled in so many directions I doubted they noticed the time passing, but I was still out there, rocking back and forth, chilled to the bone, when the sun rose over a bloody horizon.
I was drunk, but not drunk enough. With each sip of the flask, the noises from the camp deadened. When the last drop fell onto my lips, I stood and walked undisturbed over the roughterrain. The gnarled trees were gone, burned or broken during the battle, and the hooves of heavy cavalry had ripped up chunks of the already sparse grass. My grief-fuelled magic had not only levelled the mountain but also created a small spring. Its bubbling water was still full of mud, but I could see the sediment already settling as I passed.
I ended up near the sleeping dragons, who were resting there until noon when the army would set off over the plateau that had once been the Lost Ridge Mountain.
A monument to my power ... and my failure.
I swallowed hard, shaking my head to clear the images flashing through my mind, the faces of the dead that came back to haunt me.
