Page 209 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

I don’t know what this means, but it gives me the strength I need. I know I’m weakened without Grayson, but I can feel him sending his strength down the bond, offering me everything he can despite the distance between us. Focusing on the skin beneath my hands, I push every ounce of will I have into the magic that’s sucking my strength.No, I tell it.I will not let you break me. I feel the magic stutter under my hands before doubling its efforts. A pain-filled groan fills the air, and it takes a few seconds for me to realise it’s me making the noise. There are whispers in my ears again, but I’m too busy focusing on mymagic. I’ve backed it into a corner now, I just need to find a hole so I can break it apart. This is always the most painful part, but I don’t mind the pain, because that means I’ve won. Pushing with every last bit of strength I have, I feel the magic fracture beneath me.

I open my eyes and meet the smiling gaze of Speaker Hawthorn before I fall back into the arms of my mates. Cursing, they gently help lower me to the ground, and I see a concerned Revna looking down at me with Vida at her side, speaking to her in a low voice. Whatever the religious adviser is saying, she seems to be trying to reassure my aunt, and from the slow nod of her head, it’s working.

“Take them both to the healer’s tent,” Revna calls out, nodding to several tribesmen, who run off presumably towards the healer’s tent. Turning to face the gathered tribespeople, she makes sure everyone’s attention is on her. “The elves are to be treated as guests, am I understood?” Once the air is filled with ‘Yes, Chiefs,’ she dismisses them, waiting with us as four tribesmen return with two stretchers.

Kneeling next to Speaker Hawthorn, and under Fawne’s watchful eye, they carefully transfer him onto the stretcher. When they turn to me, I raise my eyebrows and hold up my hands in a ‘halt’ motion. “Oh no, I’ll walk.”

“Clarissa—” my aunt begins, looking stern, but I just shake my head and try to prove I’m fine by pushing away from the guys and getting to my feet.

“Look, I’m fine.” Of course as soon as I say this, my legs give way and I fall back against Tor with an ‘oomph,’ his arms instantly wrapping around me.

“Oh yeah, you look great right now,” Naril chimes in. I glare at him, but I don’t miss how pale he looks, and I realise it must have been quite a shock for him to see his brother return fromtraining covered in blood, then witness me breaking the spell. I’m quickly learning that breaking magic is not easy, or pretty.

“I’ll go, but I’ll walk.”

Vaeril grumbles beside me, now also on his feet, but he nods his head, knowing it’s pointless to argue with me. Tor just seems happy to have me in his arms, although he’s still wearing a frown as he looks down at me. Eldrin has moved away slightly but hasn’t taken his gaze away from me, his eyes burning my skin.

“Wait,” I call out when I see the tribesmen are about to take Speaker Hawthorn away. Although I’m putting on a brave face, I know I won’t be able to keep up with them, and there’s something I want to ask before they take him to the healer’s tent. Walking up to the side of the stretcher, I clasp his hand again, squeezing gently. “Why are you here? You came all this way to find me?” The question doesn’t come out how I want it to, but I’m too exhausted to rephrase it. Thankfully, he smiles at me slightly, understanding I don’t mean it to sound rude.

However, his smile doesn’t stay there long, and he glances over at Fawne and the other wood elves, who are following behind anxiously. “The queen is out of control. You must stop her.” His voice is stronger now, and I can see the fear in his eyes, but there’s something else too, something I’ve not seen in him before. Anger. He’s angry. “We have come to pledge our allegiance. We will follow you in the war, beloved.”

“I don’t want this.” My voice is quiet, but there’s no mistaking the note of grief as I poke the fire with a stick, stirring the embers and ash, absentmindedly staring into the flickering flames. It’s hypnotising, but I’m not really paying attention, my thoughts consumed by the weight of my responsibilities.

Someone shifts on the wooden bench next to me, their hand reaching out as a moth flies past, protecting it from the flames it was heading towards. “If you wanted a war, then we would be putting our faith in the wrong person,” Speaker Hawthorn responds as he gently cups the moth between his hands. Our eyes meet as he acknowledges my pain. “It was the queen who started this long before you were born. Be at peace, beloved, all will be well.” Raising his cupped hands to his lips, he whispers something in elvish, and when he opens them, the moth sits in his palm. It’s beautiful. I’ve never taken time to examine the creatures before, but its wings almost appear to be shiny, and what I thought was just a brown colour is actually made up of blues and greys. It stretches out its wings and flies into the sky, avoiding the flames completely. Mesmerised, I stare up, watching the moth fly away.

“How can you know that?” My voice cracks, and I hate that I sound so unsure, like a child in need of reassurance. Except when the stakes are so high, I can’t hide my insecurities. If it was something smaller, more trivial, then I would push it back, I would endure, just like I have in the past, but this is about people’s lives. If I make a single mistake…

Pulling my gaze from the empty sky, I turn to the speaker, begging for him to understand. “I don’t know the first thing about war, and you are putting all of your faith in me.”

After Hawthorn was taken to the healer and we were given time to recover, there was a meeting with the chiefs. It was tense and awkward. The wood elves explained they would no longer follow the elf queen. They described the darkness she was infecting the land with, and how it started to infect their sacred forest, their home. Speaker Hawthorn told us about a ‘sickness’ that infected the plants and trees, making them shrivel and die, and how huge swathes of the forest perished. Many of the wood elves present shed a tear, including the speaker as he spokeof the devastation to his home, and my heart felt like it was breaking a little. Although I had only visited the forest once, I had truly felt like I could build a home there, and the thought of it being destroyed fractures a little piece of me.

Speaker Hawthorn also spoke of how he had been poisoned with magic. The wood elves evacuated their homes and made camp on the edge of the forest at the base of the mountains, as far away from Galandell as possible without leaving the safety of the trees. A small group of them had chosen to travel to find me. The journey was tough, and being away from the magic of the forest had been hard on them, especially the speakers, who haven’t left the woodland in centuries. He explained that one day, a shadowy apparition in the shape of the queen appeared. It called him before throwing itself at him, clinging to his legs. It instantly disappeared, and at first, he didn’t notice anything, but over time, he discerned a dark spot on his bark-like skin which spread, causing agonising pain and draining his strength. They only just made it to the meeting place in time.

The fact that the queen is somehow able to send magic like that is worrying, and from the looks on the faces of my high elf companions, this was new and concerning news to them too. I wish Grayson was here so I could ask him about this. As a mage, he would have a better understanding of magic, even if it was elvish magic. The magicians are the humans’ greatest defence against the elves in the war, so he should know all about their magic, even if it’s just how to defend against it.

After they finished their explanation, they once again offered their services, except this is where the problems started to arise. The wood elves are willing to fight against the queen and her darkness, but they will only followme.

The wood elves treat me with a reverence the chiefs find difficult to swallow, especially Ragnar. Now that I am one of their own, I am expected to follow their rules, yet theelves believe I am a goddess reincarnate, which is beginning to cause some raised tensions between them. While the tribes treat me with respect, especially Vida and the other guardians of the stones, remembering what happened at the ceremony, they’re not prepared to give me control of their ranks in any upcoming war. A vicious argument broke out between Chief Ragnar and Speaker Fawne. The wood elves refused to follow any instruction that wasn’t given by me, putting the tribes in an awkward position, since they know they will need the numbers. Eventually, it was agreed that I would be given a position on the war council as ‘religious adviser,’ given my connection with the Great Mother.

Now, sitting around the campfire, I ponder the situation. On the other side of the crackling flames sits Tor and the high elves. I can feel their eyes on me, and sure enough, I look over and see Tor and Vaeril watching me, their faces lit from the orange glow of the fire. However, they aren’t the only ones. On the other end of the long bench they’re sitting on is Eldrin. Leaning forward, he props his elbows on his knees, his chin resting on his fists as he stares at me. I’m not sure if it’s the light from the flames, but the shadows seem to dance across his face, making his pensive expression appear all the more aggressive and shut off. Except that’s not what I see in his eyes. His eyes are full of emotion, emotion I’m not ready to deal with. Quickly glancing away, I look down at my hands which are tightly clasped in my lap.

Speaker Hawthorn shifts from his position next to me, each movement creaking like the branches in the trees. “Menishea, the great goddess, has put her faith in you.” His words are soft as he places his hand on top of mine, squeezing gently. “She thinks you are good enough, so I do as well.” He says it so simply, as if it really is that easy for him. Looking up, I meet his gaze and let him see what those words mean to me. How hearing that I’m enough, how that little piece of validation will help to heal thefractured pieces of me. I don’t say anything, but I don’t need to, he sees it all in my eyes. He nods slowly with a sad, gentle smile, reminding me he was friends with my grandfather. He told me before of his guilt that he was never able to help my grandfather before he died, and I know that by extension, he feels responsibility for my past, even if he had nothing to do with it.

“You trust her?” he asks, and I know he’s talking about the Great Mother, orMenisheaas the elves call her.

I don’t even need to think about my answer, already nodding my head. “Yes.”

The speaker smiles and leans back slightly, our hands still clasped. “Then that’s enough.”

Looking at the goddess mark on my wrist, I contemplate his words. What he says makes sense, and I do trust the goddess. Is it really as simple as that? Just give up control, stop worrying, and trust she will guide me in the right direction? Am I even capable of doing that?

Chuckling softly, Hawthorn pulls his hand away, resting it in his lap and giving me a knowing look. “You may trust in the goddess, but you don’t trust in yourself.” I pull a face at him, making him laugh again. He’s right. I don’t trust myself because I don’t reallyknowmyself. I’m still learning who Clarissa is. For years, I wasn’t allowed to have a personality, I was barely allowed to even exist, so this has been a steep learning curve. Especially considering I’m now having to potentially lead a group of people in an upcoming war.

The speaker interrupts my thoughts, picking up on my insecurities like he can read my mind. “You don’t have to know where you are going, just trust that the goddess knows the way.” Frowning slightly, I take a few moments to center myself. I hadn’t realised my face was so easy to read, but I’m giving too much away. “Rest easy, beloved, I am good at understandingpeople’s feelings, the wind tells me their intent,” he reassures in a whisper so low I almost don’t hear him. I meet his eyes in surprise, and he nods his head with a serene smile. I knew he was powerful and could connect with nature, but I had no idea it extended to the very air around us. My mind is blown as I gape at the immensely powerful elf besides me, wondering if that should change how I feel about him.

Either unaware of my internal bewilderment, or choosing to ignore it, which is more likely given the news he just disclosed to me, he smiles again and gestures towards me. “The goddess has given you everything you need.”

I automatically look across the flames to see Vaeril and Tor. They’re all in conversation, their voices quiet so I can’t make out what they’re saying, but as soon as they feel my eyes on them, they both instantly look over at me. A blush heats my cheeks as their gazes intensify. Tor’s slow smile makes me shift on the bench as desire shoots straight to my core. “My mates?” My voice is breathier than I would like, and I finally pull my gaze away with a scowl when Vaeril smirks, knowing the effect they’re having on me.

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