Page 141 of Echoes of War

I glanced down at Alexiares, worried that he’d go somewhere in the brief seconds I’d let go of his hands. He was talking now, nearly coherent, but he still had a long way to go.

“Thousands of Covert soldiers are less than a day away. I was coming back from Denver and ended up keeping pace.”

She doesn’t know. Denver. She’d been gone awhile.

“I know. It’s okay. So we hold them off a little bit longer. Reinforcements will be here in two days’ time,” I countered, holding her arms and jolting her a bit. “Maybe sooner. If they caught word of what was happening here, they’d only take rest when necessary.”

I was rambling, talking more to myself than her, trying to work out the math in my head. We could do this—we had to.

Luna stiffened, making herself immovable. She shook her head, sorrow in her gaze. “No, no one’s coming but our own people, Amaia. San Jose and Fresno surrendered. We’re blocked in on two sides. Bakersfield is expected to throw in the hat by evening. They were attacked too, and their leaders weren’t as lucky. Their people are scared, Amaia. So are yours. We have nothing left?—”

“We have everything left!” I bellowed.

“It’s over, Amaia,” she said tenderly. “You did well, but if you want this place to see another day, you have to know when to stop fighting. Where is Prescott? We need to gather the council.”

The noise of the remnants of what took place here filtered back in. My focus wavered, zoning in and out. Weak groans of agony filled the area around us and beyond. Luna tossed her headtoward the gate, centering me back into my responsibilities. “You cannot fight when your people have nothing left to give. Look around us, Amaia. They’re out of magic, they’re out of ammo, and they are on the verge of death. Look at them!”

She grabbed my head, forcing me to take in the scene. These weren’t soldiers scattered about, they were citizens who’d opted out of the bunker deciding to stay and fend for their home. The fact that they were still alive spoke wonders to their training, but in the end, it had not been enough. They had not been able to control their magic use in the face of life or death.

Training had been thorough, as detail oriented as I could get within a few hours twice a week. The fact of the matter was, training would never equate to what my soldiers went through that had allowed them to keep their lives in this encounter. They had learned the mastery of their gifts in the skirmishes along the border or on patrol. Easing into the art of war had not been a gift my citizens had been granted. Instead, they were thrust from simulation into the real fucking deal.

As weak as they were, many of them wouldn’t survive the night. Magic had its limitations and you could not refill any empty well with healing. It dawned on me then. Tomoe’s protection spell over us was the only thing keeping Alexiares alive. His magic was gone. There was no tendril left for him to pull from. I nodded in agreement. Surrendering today did not mean surrendering tomorrow. It was time I understood that.

Covert Province won the battle. This war, however, would never be theirs. My people were resilient. Inevitable. We would not fall.

That didn’t mean we didn’t need time to recover.

“Okay,” I said, “okay. I know what to do to stop this. Seth offered a deal, one I plan to take. I’ll be back. Keep an eye on himfor me, please.”

Luna studied me warily, nodding reluctantly at the idea of me going alone. “I won’t leave his side until you get back,” she promised, perking up at something she had yet to say. “Where’s Prescott, Amaia? Is he okay?”

Making a deal after your best friend kills the man she loved who also happened to be the son of the man that extended you the deal in the first place was arguably the tensest interaction in my life. The spitting image of Seth stared back at me. A Seth with twenty-something years on him and a shit ton of stress on him, but his mirror image nevertheless.

Ronan Moore towered over me, a projection of patience and calm entrancing his demeanor. “While my method may appear … unethical, I’m only trying to solve a problem that history is inclined to repeat until we get it right. Seth mentioned you’re quite the history buff, we have that in common.”

“We have nothing in common,” I sneered, not backing down from our stare down. “Get to the point.”

Screams of injured and dying rang out in the air of the war camp around us. I hadn’t a clue where to find Ronan, just followed the straggling soldiers as they made their way back from battle. There was no guarantee he would be there, but if my presence was known, the obvious next step would be to take me to their leader. A man named Malachai slunk from the shadows as I approached, a hand gripping the bloodstained side of his shirt, grumbling for me to follow.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. There are two things we have in common, two things that encapsulate who a person is at their core.” I watched as he paced over to a bar cart, grabbing some glasses and a flask.

Placing them down on the table, he huffed a breath, pulling at the legs of his pants as he dropped to take a seat. He kicked out thechair across from him, motioning for me to take a seat. A cup of tea in a metal cup was placed before my seat, a small spoon to stir at its side. I remained standing, not interested in whatever power play he intended to drag me into.

“And what is that?”

A cruel smile tugged at his freckled lips. “The desire to create a better tomorrow, a better world, a world where innovation thrives. A world that is great—the next Roman Empire.”

“Mesopotamia. Ottoman Empire. British Empire.” I yawned, strolling across the room to push in the chair he offered with a smirk. “There has been and will continue to always be a Roman Empire, Ronan. The goal is to always make sure the next one is better than the last.”

“See, something you both agree on,” Malachai chided, arms crossed, blocking my exit from the tent.

“I have a hard time believing our vision is the same.” I arched a brow, my stomach churning at the increased discomfort of being in this room alone. “And the second commonality?”

Ronan poured two cups of bourbon, a knowing glimmer in his eye as he passed it to me. I took it, holding it tight in my hand, refusing to take a sip.

“What all the great empires possessed: A leader who had the will to die to make it all happen. You may not understand my methods, but you do understand my madness.” He took a long sip of his drink, smacking his lips after.

“You’re running an experiment across an entire territory?—”

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