Page 97 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

He ignores her, roping his arms around me. “You did not listen to a word I said at the gate.”

“I listened. I just didn’t agree with you.” I smile. “You were right. We needed all of Mordain allied with us, not just the scribes. This was our only shot, so I took it.”

He leans down to press his forehead against mine. “We heard what happened. Are you okay?”

Am I okay with having more blood on my hands? “Lorel would have killed Solange. I had no other choice.” But never in a thousand years could I have thought I would one day rationalize taking a life so easily. That person I left behind in New York is so far gone. I could never return to her—even if I wanted to.

Jarek leaps out of the boat with ease, having shed his mask. “She insisted we bring all these witches with us.” He hauls a caster out by her cloak, earning her yelp of surprise. The others avoid his reach, clambering out on their own.

“Master Healer Brigitta is the best one to try to undo what Lorel has done, but she cannot do it on her own and our elementals are at the rift.” Solange strolls forward, her bloodstained expression hard. The Shadows follow her with Allegra and Zaleria in their hands, bundled and deathly still. The casters trail, a somber, quiet line.

I fall into step next to the Master Healer, Zander at my side. “They can be healed, though, right?”

“If there is hope, it must be done now.” But her eyes are laden with doubt.

27

Sofie

My fingertip traces the tines of my fork as I study the scene in the vacuous dining hall before me. It’s almost comical, playing out like a skit written and rehearsed. A band strums an upbeat tune as servants shuttle platters of food for greedy lords and ladies, and others keep their mugs of ale and wine brimming. Everyone wears smiles.

And everyone pretends to ignore the terrifying Saur’goth soldiers who stand guard around the room, but fail terribly, their nervous eyes darting furtively to the beasts—their armor, their weapons, their fangs—as they devour morsels of roasted meat and other delectables.

I spent the afternoon shuttling Malachi’s army into Cirilea. There must be at least a thousand here now, infiltrating city streets and terrorizing peasants and nobility alike. It’s a small fraction of what moves through the rest of the realm, unbeknownst to anyone.

“Are you not enjoying the meal the servants have prepared for their queen?” Malachi asks, tossing a bone to his plate.

“I am not hungry.”

“Eat,” he barks.

It does me little good to earn his displeasure, so I stab at a carrot and pop it into my mouth, chewing slowly so I have an excuse to not speak. Elijah was never one for sitting at the head of a table like this, waiting for constituents to climb the steps and kiss his ass.

But as I look at the fate who has possessed his body, his eyes alight with giddy mischief, his smug grin dripping with pomp, it is clear this is what Malachi has longed for.

My beloved trapped inside must loathe every second.

A silver platter clatters to the floor. It doesn’t take long to find the source—a young female servant who lost her balance or her nerve under the scrutiny of the Saur’goths. Now she scrambles on her hands and knees, collecting loose buns, her fingers narrowly avoiding the boots of the noble couple on their way here.

No wonder I have no appetite. My teeth grind as I prepare to digest their drivel.

“Your Highness,” they echo, their bows deep. “We are Lord and Lady Spire of Fernhoth,” the male introduces. “It has been forever since a Cirilean ruler has treated us to such a lavish affair.”

I barely stifle my snort. “Perhaps one was thrown while you two were locked in the tower for treason against your king.” I recognize his pinched face from the other day.

His eyes flash—with anger or fear, I’m not sure—but he quickly disguises it behind laughter. “A simple misunderstanding.”

“Which part?” He reeks of deceit.

Malachi chuckles as he settles a heavy hand on my shoulder. “I apologize for my love. She is very protective of me. But there is no need. No one here would be reckless enough to scheme against us.”

The male’s eyes widen with exaggeration. “Of course not!”

The lady echoes his words with a fervent shake of her head, as if I can’t see through her lies too.

“We will not disturb your meal further.” With bobs and bows, the two scurry away.

“You have much to learn about ruling a kingdom,” Malachi chastises.

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