Page 55 of The Last of the Dark Lords

Everything stopped. The archers to my left and right who had been watching, who had been ordered not to fight, all turned to me and, after the smallest moment of indecision, kneeled as one. The infantry on the field that had once been Archers themselves turned and saw me on the wall. The soldiers of Ashfuror looked to me as well, because the Crown of Seeing sat shining atop my head.

"No! He is no longer your Commander!" Athard's voice came out as a strangled cry.

"Archers of Greatfalls, fall back!" It wasn’t my voice this time. I turned to my left. Jelenna stood next to me, in defiance of Athard and of my grandmother. Her eyes met mine, and I saw guilt and sadness flash across her face. She reached out her arms, handing me my bow, my quiver, and my daggers.I’m sorry, she mouthed. I didn’t reply.

I saw the pain in her eyes before she hid her reaction. It hurt my heart, but we didn’t have time for me to learn why she’d done what she did. She understood that as well, yelling out to the Archers once more. “Fall back!”

"Soldiers of Ashfuror, fall back!" The echoing cry came from the other end of the battlefield. Cyrus was with me. We were bringing this battle to an end.

Like a wave hitting a causeway, the two forces separated. Cyrus' soldiers fell back to the gate, and the Archers retreated to the dam wall. They looked to me for guidance, ignoring my brother’s yelling, which was growing more desperate.

I rushed down to the bottom of the dam wall as Cyrus rode to meet me on the field. We came together, two leaders of war who also happened to be Lords of Fyr. And husbands.

He swung off the back of his horse with a fluid grace that made my heart leap. He was recovered, fully fit and sporting a new accessory.

"Nice crown,” I said. “Where'd you get it?"

Cyrus chuckled, deep and joyful, and hope sprung up in my chest. "Someone stole mine, so I had to get another one. Luckily, we had a few crowns kicking around in storage."

In my joy at seeing him, I'd forgotten that I'd been the cause of his trouble. "Sorry about that." It was flippant, maybe, but I meant it.

He stepped toward me, and my heartbeat sped up. How did the new crown make him even more handsome? The blue light reflected off his pale skin with an otherworldly glow.

"You're not going to try and kill me again, are you?" He had a smirk on his face, but I caught something in his eyes, a flash of hurt. I never wanted to be the cause of that ever again. I stepped forward, wrapping my arms around his waist. He didn't pull away.

"I didn't know. I...I thought I was doing what was best. I thought I was saving you."

"I know." His voice was low, now, only loud enough for the two of us to hear. The sweet odor of soap and leather made me desperate to be alone with him. "Manod told me what you did. How you bound yourself to the crown."

I didn't have a response. We needed more time, time to talk about all that had happened. I desperately hoped for that time.

"The one you wear is blue. Is it..."

"Yes, it belonged to one of the conquered Lords of Fyr. The Crown of Battle."

“You’re a one man army!”

“It was made for war. It allows me to send out bursts of pure energy. I can shape them as I wish, blunt or sharp, wide or narrow. Stahkla decided that I should use it. I had really wanted the Crown of Diplomacy, but the god had other ideas.”

I wondered for a moment what sacrifice the God of Fire and Metal had demanded of him, then pushed that aside. "Thank you for coming for me."

"Bertio was perched in the window of the hall when that ass knocked you out. I figured they must have you locked away somewhere." He breathed as he took me in, like he was trying to stamp the image of my face in his memory. "But I see you didn't need my help."

"I don't know if that's true."

A shock of warm liquid hit my left cheek. Reflexively, I touched my fingers to it. It was saliva.

"Betrayer!" My brother's voice rang out from a few feet away, full of petulant anger. "I should have known you couldn't finish the job. That you'd fallin lovewith our greatest enemy!"

Cyrus stepped forward, but put my hand on his arm to stop him. Athard was my responsibility, a problem that I had trusted in Grandmother to solve. Now that I saw the truth, it fell to me.

"I had always thought thatyouwere the one that strayed from the love our parents taught us." I squared off my shoulders. "I was wrong. You followed in their murderous footsteps. You have no regard for the lives of others. You are nothing but a self-serving twit."

In a fit of temper, Athard reached for the pommel of his rapier. He pulled it out and took a fighting stance.

"Prepare."

One of his men approached me, handing me a rapier of my own. I felt the weight of the weapon in my hand, unfamiliar to me. I glared at Athard. Once again, he was expecting me to play by the rules, to bend to him, even as he sought to kill me.

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