Page 155 of A Queen This Fierce and Deadly

He leaned even closer, until we were inches apart. His fingers gently traced my face, his gaze following eachstroke, as if he was memorizing it. Green-gold eyes met mine, and my breath caught.

“I wasn’t being completely honest when I told you I didn’t know what I wanted. That I hadn’t let myself think about what comes after this war. The truth is, I want to know you’re safe. That you’re happy and fulfilled. That you’re creating beautiful clothes and living the life you always dreamed of in that village. And if I’m still breathing, I want to be part of that life.”

My heart was pounding so hard, I could hear it in my ears. My vision swam. “You will be breathing. Promise me.”

He grinned, looking suddenly younger. And I could see a hint of the man he might be one day when he didn’t spend those days consumed by war and death. A man who smiled often, who used his strategic mind in ways that improved people’s lives, instead of those that caused death. A man who came home each night and kissed me lavishly before dropping to the floor to play with our children.

I could see that life. It was so close, I could almost touch it. And yet, it also seemed like an impossible dream.

“I promise,” he said. “I’ll be there. If you’ll have me.” He cupped my cheek, his thumb gently brushing away a tear that had slipped free. “Now, promise me.”

“I promise.”

He moved his hand to the back of my head, and I sank into his kiss, breathing in the scent of him. Never could I have imagined that it would be Demos who would be the one person I needed. But looking back now…

From the moment we’d met, and he’d bullied andcajoled me into eating, forcing me to survive each night in that cell, this had always been inevitable.

“Ahem.” Someone coughed outside the tent. Clearly, Demos was needed.

I wanted to hold him to me, to demand that whoever was waiting leave us in peace.

But we were at war.

Demos pulled away with a long sigh. “Get some rest.” He glanced around. “Stay here.”In my tent,his eyes said when they met mine.Where you belong.“I’ll see you soon.”

PRISCA

Asinia and Demos had the amulet.

Over the past days, I’d repeated that thought over and over, until it seemed to echo inside my mind. Armies took time to move. And this feeling of helplessness, the urge todosomething, was tearing me apart.

But we now had all three amulets and Tor. I had to believe it would be enough to kill Regner and end this war.

My horse shifted beneath me, likely sensing my anxiety. Next to me, Lorian glanced my way. Concern flickered in his gaze as he ran his eyes over my face.

I nodded at him, and he turned in his saddle, surveying the soldiers formed in their lines behind us, supply wagons bringing up the rear.

Thankfully, we’d been in the process of packing up the camp, ready to march south. Still, learning the truth of Regner’s plans had filled us with a new urgency. I’d sent sixteen of our most powerful hybrids ahead in Regner’s ship, hoping they would reach our people quickly enough to buy us time.

My hand found my hourglass. Time. It all came down to time.

For the past two days, we’d marched south from the Cursed City, stopping only to sleep huddled around campfires each night. In the glow of those fires, I’d listened to the hybrid soldiers talk of war. They’d spoken of great, long-dead heroes. They’d told stories about battles past, each retelling becoming more outlandish than the last. They’d laughed and boasted and gently mocked those who had never strode onto a battlefield.

My teeth had almost chattered in fear each time I’d thought about what was to come next. And I’d looked around at those soldiers—many of whom would be on the front lines—and wondered how they could speak so easily of the death and horror of war.

If not for their refusal to linger on the reality of what they were to face, these fathers and sisters and mothers and sons would be thinking of the people who might leave them, along with those they might leave behind. And so, it seemed as if they focused on the potential glory of battle instead.

When I mentioned this theory to Shara, a burly soldier with a long scar down the left side of her face, she nodded. “Bravery is a choice. However, you can’t wait until the moment you need to be brave to reach for thatbravery. Because if you haven’t been purposefully tending to it, building it up, you may find that it is not there when you need it. You must stoke the fires of courage little by little, day by day, so they are burning bright long before you ever need them. And you fuel or douse those fires— fanning the flames or snuffing them out—with the words you say to yourself. And with the words you allow others to say about you in your presence.”

Now, as my horse plodded along, I let myself listen to the words I had been saying to myself since I’d woken in that cabin after bringing Lorian back. The words I’d stuffed down as much as I could.

And my cheeks burned.

I was a cheat. A woman who had ignored the laws of both humans and the gods. Someone who had violated the most fundamental rules of her own power. I was arrogant and prideful—refusing to admit that my actions were in any way wrong. Because Lorian had lived, and that was all that mattered to me.

The happiness I felt was stolen. Lorian was being haunted by the dead because of me.

And…

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