Page 87 of A Warrior's Fate

The words had sounded decent enough in principle, incredible even, but as Isla found herself staring up at the large fabric banner flowing on a phantom wind towards the back of the room by the podium for the speeches, all she felt was sick.

There was too much for her to focus on. Her name—being deemed “second”—embroidered just below Kai’s. The reminder of the two bak she’d killed. The fact that Lukas’s name—even though he’d emerged, even though he’d slayed a beast—was nowhere in sight.

“Is this supposed to display the entire class of trainees that had descended?” she choked out, trying to sound impassive.

“I’m not too sure.” Eli paused, his eyes raking over the names with intent. “Have you seen the Alpha of Deimos here?”

Isla straightened, and she suddenly became very aware of the wine in her hand. She gulped down some of the sweet liquid, feeling a slight tingle in her throat. “I haven’t.”

There was the smallest uptick of the general’s lips that fell promptly. “Four bak. Insanely impressive—but maybe a bit much, don’t you think?”

Isla pursed her lips, always finding herself so keen on the tones used when her mate was spoken of. It had happened with Adrien, then the Imperial Alpha, and now again. The urge to defend Kai—his actions, who he was—rose quickly.

“He did it to—” She cut herself off, remembering that no one knew about what really happened behind the Wall.

“Prove a point?” Eli thankfully suggested in the pause. “You two lock in some friendly competition?”

“Something like that,” she offered falsely.

The general nodded, looking back up at the names. “Well, I’m going to need that fire.” He turned, a smirk forming at the sight of Isla’s raised brows. Like he’d wanted to build anticipation, had been preparing something.

Isla, feeling like there was a secret script she was meant to follow, asked, “What do you mean?”

Eli cleared his throat. “Warriors are being deployed along the midland borders of Deimos, Rhea, and Charon to aid in rogue eradication efforts. I’ll be heading the squadron in Deimos, and as a general, I get to pick my own unit.” He paused, letting Isla fill in some gaps. Gaps that quickly made the wine sour in her stomach. “I’ve asked the high general if he’d allow you to join me in the field. Given you’re a new recruit—and it’s almost unheard of—he had to reach higher up and was able to get clearance from the Imperial Alpha based on your recent showing.”

“You—you want me to join you in the field…in Deimos?”

This couldn’t be real. She was drunk or…something. Somehow, half a glass of wine had been too much.

“Some things may need to be on an observational basis,” he acknowledged, a smile now threatening to stretch as wide as his face. Isla had no doubt he was completely misinterpreting her shock. “But it’s a great opportunity not many or any new recruit will ever be granted, and it will look great on your ledger.”

He wasn’t wrong. She hated that he wasn’t wrong. About any of it. New warriors, especially now with the times of peace, could only dream of getting time out in action. Most of the first couple of years were spent in even more training and patrols with the guard. But this? Eradicating rogues? Helping people, protecting and serving the continent as she’d always wanted…

But why couldn’t it have been anywhere else?

She feigned humility. “Oh, I could never.”

“Why not? You’ve earned it.” Eli gestured up to the banner, and she looked at it again. Her name, just below Kai’s.

Goddess, they’d be within the same borders again. Possibly find themselves face to face again.

At the thought, something stirred in her. Something bad. Something feral and claiming that wanted him back and had been awoken in the presence of the opportunity to get to him again.

Isla masked her groan with a sigh and battled that beast back into its dark, dank corner. “I can’t go with you to Deimos.”

“And what’s wrong with Deimos?”

The words hadn’t come from Eli.

Isla whipped around to where the voice had crooned from and found herself confronted by a woman making her way over. When she stopped before them, Isla took her in.

She stood just a bit taller than Isla herself, and her silken black hair must’ve been long, given how large her tightly-wound top knot was as it sat on her head like a crown—a crown it felt like she deserved. Her brown skin was practically glowing in the sunbeams spilling from the skylights above, and it drew Isla’s attention to the black ink that seemed to stretch from her collarbone beneath the neckline of her ebony dress, over her shoulder, and to her back.

“Ameera,” Eli greeted, but not much could be done to mask the bitterness in his tone.

The woman, Ameera, had her eyes honed in on Isla, sizing her up like prey before she turned smoothly to face the general. “Eli.” She grinned, but even in its softness, it held something biting.

Eli’s matched it. “Funny seeing you here, I don’t recall you being at the feast.” There was a smugness to his voice that gave Isla the nudge that she may not have received the invitation.

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