Page 217 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

I chuckle. “Once, when I was very young, during a routine campaign through the realm, I shed all my armor and had an enjoyable night with one of my tributaries, only to wake up in the middle of the night under attack. I fought them off with my cock hanging out and nowhere to sheath my blades. I will never make that mistake again.”

Her slight body quakes with her giggle. “I would have enjoyed watching that.”

“What are you doing here tonight, Satoria? I would think you should be warming your husband’s bed instead, so what does he hope to gain from this? He has my sword and an allyship.” I’m past the point of pretending Cheral didn’t send her.

“I am here for you, not for him. I have long since stopped sharing his bed. I am barren and therefore undesirable.” There is sadness in her voice.

“You are far from undesirable, believe me. If I did not have another in my thoughts, I would have been buried deep inside you by now.”

She shudders with my words, her palm raking over my stomach, her fingertips slipping under the waistband of my breeches. “Where is she now?”

“I am not certain because Romeria will not tell me, but likely in her secret city, where she will remain and live a long, happy, mortal life. Without me, if the queen has any say.” The more I replay Tuella’s foretelling, the more I am convinced that I am not meant to survive the coming battle. And perhaps that is just as well. It is the price I must pay for my many mistakes and betrayals.

“We will be breaking camp in a few hours.” I press my lips against Satoria’s temple. “Good night.”

She burrows into me, unwilling to leave.

That night I sleep soundly.

62

Sofie

“Now I remember why I’ve avoided riding horses for so long.” I wince as I adjust in my saddle.

Malachi chuckles from his perch atop a black stallion, the gold crown gleaming despite the drizzle that falls from an overcast sky. “Your body will adjust to this way of life again soon, my love.” Raising his voice, he announces, “We will make camp here so the queen may rest.”

I will get no rest tonight, I’m sure, but I force a smile.

The Saur’goths bark orders at the servants, directing the supply wagons to a flat area on our right.

I spare a glance at the lords and ladies who were ordered to accompany us. The first one to openly question what purpose they served in this battle earned a blade through their stomach. No one else spoke after that, quickly gathering their servants and supplies. Now they wear fake smiles to mask their discontent. We have much in common.

“Come, my love.” Malachi reaches for me. “I have something to show you.”

The last of the daylight fades with our ride to the top of the hillcrest, and by the time we reach it, cook fires burn at our camp below.

“Behold.” Malachi gestures grandly, waving a hand toward the valley in the northwest. “My army.”

I gasp. In the distance, firelight burns as far as the eye can see.

The Saur’goths roar with laughter when we return to camp, drinking ale and gnawing on roasted meat—of what kind, I’m afraid to ask. They seem less like demons and more like our kind, despite their hideousness, each day.

Beyond them sit the supplies and several cages. Traveling with the daaknar has proven challenging, its reach through the bars farther than they’d anticipated. They lost three Saur’goths to barbed talons before Malachi lashed out with a whip to warn the daaknar to behave. I’ve caught its hateful red eyes glowering at him often since. It will kill him the second we release it from its confines, but I am ready to—happily—send it back to Azo’dem when it tries.

The mortal prisoners in the other cages cower, just outside the reach of the demon. They’re past the point of fear and shock and are now waiting to die. “I do not think you will be able to control Romeria with them.”

“You are wrong. She is many things, but she is still human, and that weakness will be her downfall,” he says with confidence.

In that case, I should have insisted we bring Wendeline along.

A female shrieks, snapping my attention to the right, past a row of tents, to where four Saur’goths hover over a servant. All I can see of her is flesh and torn garments, but when I decipher the dropped breeches and thrusting motion, my rage ignites.

I send all four warriors flying with a blast of wind, scattering them like bowling pins.

The servant clambers to her feet and runs through the camp, her clothes hanging off her body.

With a grimace of disgust, I gather threads to burn the Saur’goths where they lie.

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