Page 86 of Petals for Deadly Power

Revenge had been served twenty-five years late, but it had been served well, with the deadliest dagger at the hands of the five people who hated him most. Vengeance came with sour satisfaction and nerve-wracking responsibilities.

The moment his life ended, the Birthing Pit of Blackness engulfed all of them in shadows and red sparks. Ciaran, Hope, Jake, Lenna, Ayla, and Nina were moured by the god-sent magic to the entrance of Stevian’s house.

When they left, the beach had been empty, and their navia had been anchored. Now, mere hours later, the beach was crowded with busy people dressed in black, and fifteen navias stood in line in an impressive exhibition of metallic crescent shapes.

“What the—” Lenna started.

Her voice made Stevian look back at them, and the old man grinned, tears filling his blue eyes as he lifted his palm to his heart. He sent a twirl of shadows above every courtrade at the beach, getting their attention. He looked from Hope to Ciaran and back at Hope, and when he kneeled, so did the two hundred courtrades behind him.

Hope clenched her jaw. She didn’t know why these courtrades were kneeling, but there was respect, admiration, and loyalty in such gesture. How many emotions could be thrown at someone in one night before breaking?

Ciaran, next to her, held her hand. She would not be able to look at himwithoutbreaking, and she couldn’t break in front of the people kneeling in front of them.Forthem. Hope squeezed his hand, not wanting to let go ever again.

Stevian lifted his head. “The whispers of night commanded me to gather your army and to prepare to leave Orizane. For the safety of Terrha, we must head to Thyria when the sun leaves the sky.”

An army ofcourtrades.

Hope smiled. Perhaps the grand plan of the Core Cardinal and Llunal hadn’t gone wrong at all. Perhaps fate was truly playing a key part here. Perhaps this was the destiny that had been written for them centuries ago.

She whispered to Ciaran, “Your army is waiting for you to speak.”

He inhaled sharply. “This is notmyarmy.”

“Don’t be rude,” she whispered back, elbowing him.

A loud breeze hit them, and Hope knew Llunal or his whispers had spoken to him.

“Shit, okay, okay,” he muttered. He sighed, cleared his throat looking at the dozens of courtrades gathered, and then he spoke. “It’ll be my honor to navigate the darkness with every one of you. The night is nothing but shadows and stars.”

“The night is nothing but shadows and stars,” the courtrades repeated, bowing their heads deep.

The Radel Sea was calm. Hope’s blood, like her future, was not.

The future held many worries, but her father wouldn’t be one of them.

It had been hours since the red moon shone in the sky and the courtrades had started pushing the navias from Orizane to Thyria, the sun starting to rise again. It was impressive how fast navias moved with the shadows of two hundred courtrades acting as one.

When they arrived in Thyria, Hope had moured to the protected clearing in the woods where they had buried her mother’s body. She missed her mother and the woods so painfully much.

The black and red crystal daggers sheathed on Hope’s belt were heavier than any metal blades she had ever carried. She knew, though, their weight was not on their material but on their history, the punishments they had inflicted, their magic. They thrummed, calling her to release them like a wave waiting to crash against the shore. Luckily, Hope was well versed in the arts of resistance and perseverance. She’d be cautious, though. These blades, like any weapon, were as dangerous as their wielder.

The Fifth Power was as dangerous as the Lawful Stabs, and its three wielders were here. Jake, who hadn’t crossed a word with Lenna yet, Ayla, who would never see again, and Hope.

She was the Ruler of the land approaching on the horizon. The highest authority of the Roix, owner of the Organ House, and Supreme Ruler of all Thyrian Houses.

She was the new Organ Mandor of Thyria.

Hope had been observing the night and shadows pass from a room under the deck. She felt someone approach from behind, her heart beating faster at the recognition.

“You haven’t slept yet,” Ciaran said, his long hair a mess from wielding shadows for hours.

She hadn’t, and she doubted the constant influx of thoughts and worries would ever stop now. “You haven’t either.”

Ciaran sighed. He looked exhausted, and she knew she couldn’t look any better. The past couple of days had been more intense than whole years. He caressed her cheek and took her hand. “Come with me.”

She was too tired and too eager to spend time with him to object, so she let him guide her. He closed the door of his bedroom behind him, and she lifted her eyebrows.

“I like this kind of sleeping,” she chuckled, a blush rushing to her cheeks.

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