Page 240 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

Glancing at my mates behind me, he seems to take reassurance from Grayson’s presence, so the high mage steps up to my side, nodding in encouragement. Taking a deep breath, he smiles slightly and gestures to his horse. “Please, beloved, it would honour me if you would use my horse for the journey.”

Hearing a snigger behind me, I have to fight the urge to glare at the elf who made the noise. Ever since we left camp this morning, I’ve had people see me walking and try to get me to ride their horse. I have my own horse, but I donated it to someone who needed it more than I did, yet as soon as anyone notices me walking, they feel the need to offer me their steed. Naril has turned it into a game, guessing how many propositions I will get before the end of the day. At first, I was humbled, but constantly explaining myself is beginning to become tiring.

“That is most kind of you, Mage…” Trailing off, I search for his name in my memories.

“Becket,” Grayson helpfully supplies, and I realise guiltily he was one of the mages who accompanied me to Arhaven. I should have recognised him before now. He risked his life for me, and I let my frustration get in the way.

“Mage Becket, you were in Arhaven with me, weren’t you?” He nods, his face flushing with pride, which only makes me feel more guilty. They deserve better from me. Closing the distance between us, I stop just before him and bow my head in a gesture of respect. “I want to thank you personally for protecting me then, and in advance for protecting me when we arrive in Galandell.” Staring at me in surprise, he looks at Grayson and then back to me, as if he doesn’t quite believe what’s happening.

“I’m not going to accept your horse.” Frowning at my words, he goes to argue, but I hold up my hand and continue. “And that is because there are others who need it more than I do. There are not enough horses to go around, and I am perfectly capable of walking,” I explain softly, gesturing to the others around us. The tribesmen are used to travelling long distances over harsh mountain terrain, and they would never admit it, but eventually they would tire. However, it’s the mages and human guards I’m worried about. They are used to fighting, but not travelling long distances, especially having only recently arrived at camp.

He follows my gaze, his eyes landing on the group of human guards who are walking behind Jacob’s horse. They appear exhausted, but none of them grumble. In fact, they are talking to the prince, all of them in high spirits. Returning his gaze to me, he smiles slightly and bows at the waist. “I understand, beloved.”

Smiling, I watch as he walks over to the group of guards and starts up a conversation. I begin to walk again, falling into step amongst my mates, with Naril a few steps ahead of us.

“How very noble,” Naril calls back in a singsong voice.

Rolling my eyes at his comment, I glance at the front of the procession where Revna leads, the other chiefs following on horseback. My stomach feels like it’s filled with lead and nerves, and the overwhelming pressure makes me nauseous. A hand on my shoulder brings my attention back, and as I glance around, I see the hand belongs to Tor. His expression is stoic, but the assurance he sends me through our bond tells me he thinks I’ve done the right thing. Reassured, I smile slightly up at my tribesman and roll back my shoulders.

“What kind of leader would I be if I sat on horseback while I knew others could benefit from it?” My voice is firm, contradicting the casual shrug of my shoulders. “I can walk farther than most of the humans can, they should use the horses. It’s only fair.”

Vaeril appears at my other side, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my shoulder. His expression is neutral, but his eyes are soft. “Most people don’t think that way.”

There had been a big argument about the best way for us to arrive at Galandell. It was agreed that we would march this morning as per the Mother’s instructions, however, the chiefs wanted to dress me up and have me ride at the front. I objected. I am not a figurehead, I am a warrior the same as everyone else. When there are limited resources, they should go to those who need them most. As part-elf, I am stronger and moreresilient. Besides, I want to be among everyone. If I am forced to accept I’m seen as the ‘beloved,’ the goddess’ chosen, and not as Clarissa, then isn’t it better that they can actually see me mingling amongst them?

A flash of regret fills me at the slight rift between my aunt and me, but I’m not going to back away from my morals for the sake of appearances.

Sighing, I finally acknowledge something I’ve come to realise. “I am not most people.” There is something freeing in the admission. All I’ve ever wanted was to blend in, to have a normal life, and my existence has been anything but. Even once I was freed, my mind seemed to work differently. I don’t know if that’s due to my past experiences or if I was born this way, but I can’t deny it any longer.

Feeling someone’s gaze on me, I look around and notice Grayson is watching me, his eyes soft. “You really aren’t.” His words could sound insulting, but I feel his love and admiration, knowing he wouldn’t want me any other way.

“Hmm,” Naril hums, breaking my moment with Grayson as he steps into my field of vision with a grin on his face. “I still think you’ll get at least two more propositions before we stop for lunch.”

Naril was right. I was approached by another mage and a well-meaning tribesman, both offering their mounts, all of which I kindly declined.

Now seated around a hastily made campfire, I sip my broth as I listen to the argument going on around me. Grayson sits on my right, Vaeril is on my left, and Eldrin and Tor stand behind us with their arms crossed. Jacob sits opposite, and when hiseyes meet mine, he shakes his head in exasperation. I agree with his frustration.

“With all of us together, we have greater numbers than them.” Chief Arne jabs his finger down onto the map that they’re all gathered around. “We should simply storm the city, overwhelm them.” A chorus of groans meets his words as people talk over each other.

Ragnar clears his throat, his arms crossed. “I agree. Now that we have the magicians, we will have the strength.”

I hadn’t approved of this plan to start with, and now that I know he’s behind it, I agree even less. Burying my sigh, I try to push my pettiness aside. I’ve looked at that map and memorised the shapes for what feels like a hundred times, getting Tor to read it to me, explaining what the writing says so I’m able to take part in the discussions. However, at the end of the day, in a face-to-face battle with the forsaken, we will lose. There has to be another way, I’ve just not found it yet.

“The forsaken are too strong,” Speaker Beck, the representative from the sea elves, interjects, and Speaker Hawthorn hums in agreement at his side.

High Mage Merrin sighs and stands, brushing down his robes. “Our magic is untested on these forsaken. We don’t know how they’ll react to it.” I know how much it must hurt him to admit this, but with truth as his gift, we would be wise to listen to him. “Rushing in is a poor idea.”

Grayson is nodding at my side. I know he’s worried about his mages. Fighting elves on a battlefield is one thing, but fighting an enemy you don’t know on an unknown battleground is something different entirely. Not to mention the forsaken have the advantage of being in a place they know well, and they know we’re coming. There is no way to hide our approach.

“We have the goddess on our side,” one of the large chiefs rumbles, his belly as big as his voice. “We defeated them before, we can do it again!”

“You are all fools,” Eldrin growls from behind me. Everyone stills before turning their attention to us. Their expressions range from chagrined to outraged, but no one challenges my warrior elf as he steps forward. “Do you not remember the battle before? They do not feel pain. You can bet that the queen will have more up her sleeve than a dozen forsaken.”

Ragnar gets over his shock and steps around the table, his eyes flashing with indignation. “How dare—”

Something pushes at my awareness, making me tune the rest of the conversation out. I’ve heard it all before anyway, but whatever is trying to get my attention isold. Extending my consciousness, I look up and into the distance where I feel the pull. Whoever this is, they want to speak to me.

Without fully realising what I’m doing, I stand, my cup falling to the ground as I follow the pull. Some part of my mind is aware of my mates calling my name and their bonds aching in my chest, but I don’t feel any danger or like I’m under any spell like I was with the forest witch last time I was in these woods.

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