The Heirs of Death

32. Warrior Queen

WARRIOR QUEEN

The body in black had been unconscious for far before he fell, facedown in snow—the cracking sound that echoed around us as Luthian, unblinking, stepped on a sprawled hand was enough of a cue. There had been no reaction.
 
The other two, they were as aware as we were, snarling as a band of ice-kissed magic wrapped around their wrists and ankles. I spared them a glance, eyes skimming over the thin frames, the disheveled hair, the familiar faces.
 
I picked the fallen knife. It throbbed warm in my hands, pulsing with a forgotten power that stretched through the obsidian-like blade in veins of glowing blues. Like blood in flesh, it throbbed and it palpitated, hissing an old chant in my being. I couldn't fight the edge of the grin claiming my lips. I gripped the pommel hard, fingers running over the roughly made weapon, and threw it to the captives. It landed next to the eldest, a boy a couple months shy from sixteen, a breath away from slitting his jaws. 
 
The girl's quivering breath was all that echoed around us for a long heartbeat. Yet Luthian paid her no heed, striding his way toward us with a steadiness—despite the cold—that could shake lands. Not even a labored breath. Utterly unaffected by the absence of a cloak over his shoulders. He caught my eyes, and smirked. 
 
I'd never seen Luthian smirking. Perhaps he, too, found a hidden piece of himself in Veidor.
 
The heavy sac fell silent on the snow, a faint jiggling of steel coming out mute as clothes muffled the impact, cloaks' hems spilling out of the bag. Veidor rummaged through the massive amount of fabrics and weapons and then handed me a wide, flask-like bottle. It was deliciously warm. And the smell that came out of it—food, it was food.
 
My glances traveled from the bottle to the bag to the newly appointed Second Leader of my forces. "How many houses did you sneak into?"
 
His eyes were wicked and gleaming as he pulled out a dagger sharpened so heavily it could slit throats as easily as a sword. "None actually." I raised my eyebrows, offering Carter some of the soup before drinking it. His reply was a mere shaking of the head. I sniffed, then took a gulp.
 
"That", Luthian pointed at the flask, "I did fill it from a still cooking pot.''
 
"That explains the taste." I had better meals, and worse ones. But it was its hotness down my throat that made me take more and more of it.
 
"The rest, it was the treasure of raiding the Umbra Warriors' main barrack."
 
I almost chocked on the watery food, and Dier's body went taught. Luthian didn't wait before adding, "I tracked a troop rounding through the village's border, which is unlikely for them to come so discreetly. Apparently, they were heading for a gathering under the demand of Rimelia's most important Legion Leaders.''
 
My eyes flickered to the unconscious body, to the pale skin peeking out beneath a black, scaly artwork of armor. Veidor caught the attention. "Brigadier General, responsible in Rimelia.'' His eyes met mine. ''Your prey, since I considered a kill might liberate your magic for a while.''
 
Indeed, my powers were hissing once again, those few moments of liberty were as good now as nothing. Let us out, they seemed to hiss in my blood. Let us be free. I forced them down again.
 
Luthian spared his captives a moment's glance before turning to Carter, eyes a red a shade brighter than my Second and brother. ''I've called the rest and turned the place into a slaughterhouse, but they are many—the greatest meeting in years. I'm sure you'll still find some throats to slit.'' Carter remained silent, any trace of lightness on his face gone, as though shattered by hat knife. A lord's face—it was a lord's face looking down at Luthian, a face I'd so rarely seen. ''And your newly acquired powers are more than needed to confound a lie.''
 
He still remained silent, eyes and minds analyzing everything, powers picking the auras of the steel and the fabrics in the sac. And Luthian, he remained unfazed, unblinking. Never one to bend, even in the face of a lord. Had been so since we first met. But now, it was something else, another type of defiance, a silent and wicked swaggering. "And why is it," finally demanded Carter, a mist of dark shadows slowly coming to life around his fingers, "that you left so early in your hunt, brother?"
 
Brother—him, too, in disguise younger than Carter. The flicker of his eyes to my face hinted enough of what had been creeping in his demeanor.
 
The smile that Luthian gave was feral. "I got my aim. I have no burning vengeance left when it comes to the others."
 
The shadows intensified around Dier, stretching around his shoulders, his legs, slowly swallowing him whole. ''Unfortunate it is, not prizing the head."
 
''It truly is.''
 
The face Carter wore like skin ever so lightly melted, eyes simmering, powers aching to be freed, just like mine. The shadows were at Carter's neck, shrouding him as his words slipped in my mind, 'I have told no one of the prophecy, or the mating bond, for it is a decision that is yours to take, either to tell them, or leave them in oblivion.'
 
I didn't have the time to respond before the darkness stretched and thinned, spreading with the winds. Dier was gone.
 
I took another gulp of the soup, gingerly shifting my numb limbs against the cloak Carter had left above mine. I hadn't realized how heavily torpid my legs had become. I grunted.
 
Luthian had been at my side before I could register it, one arm sliding beneath my shoulders to support me should I ever wish to get up. I barely raised an eyebrow as I lightly nudged him. It was enough to make him lift me up, both arms securing me. I couldn't feel my legs, not even the cold biting my feet. Only the piercing, tingling sensation as blood slowly flowed back. ''Did he literally kick you away for you to sport that unnerving stare?"
 
His smile said far more than enough, but he didn't comment as we leisurely started walking, each step of mine painful and unbalanced. Yet he didn't complain, or run out of patience, as he still supported me as we made our way to the captives.
 
The snarl that came out of the boy's throat was the only sound spreading around us, his eyes on the shining sphere I had summoned and monitoring every movement, every bruise and bandage and blood smears peeking as the wind billowed through my cloaks. Chained hands tried to reach for the knife, body diving forward to shield the sister, who seemed barely a year younger than him. Their faces so familiar, so similar to one I'd seen many times before, were pale and bruised.
 
And when we arrived to the three of them, standing a couple steps in front of the siblings, the brother's warning stares did not falter, did not break, until Veidor spoke, "You still bend your knee too heavily while lunging.'' Luthian removed one arm, the other remaining on my shoulder as his eyes caught the faint glimmer of recognition flaring on the boy's face. It went as fast as it came. "But you're aim has improved, even if still too reckless sometimes.''
 
A gentle stir of winds had the knife carried away from the sister's reaching hands to his, the throbbing of its strength an indicator of the demon blood coursing in his veins. He twirled it over, noting every etched symbol, every swirling pattern running down the blade as I whispered to his mind what each detail signified.
 
The wind carried the knife again, keeping it in place, as Veidor slit his arm with the dagger he'd picked. His blood fell in floating drops of viscous black. The siblings were unmoving, and I eyed the eldest one as he stared and stared at Luthian, fighting the memories rising and contradicting with what was happening. With the blood's color.
 
It was I who steered the drops of blood toward the blade, black sliding along the obsidian blade. And splattering red. The girl swallowed on her muffled cry. A cry of mercy, perhaps.
 
Because I knew what this knife was, the pulsating magic in it—it was the same one I had spent long nights with Ramos studying and creating before I awoke father. A weapon meant to shatter all demonic existence, a blade capable of killing demons in heartbeats finally put to experience. And it worked fantastically, capable of thoroughly destroying the Arowcinders' spell.
 
Not demons, despite the faces and the powers and the blood.
 
Luthian was grinning as the boy looked up to our faces, as he breathed, "Lieutenant."
 
For a heartbeat, I slid into the boy's mind—Harald—and allowed him to see past the veil the Lady in White had woven, allowed him to stare at the icy, blue eyes and the white, shining hair. The chains around their wrists and ankles melted, and the boy had been at Luthian's side in a heartbeat, a hand falling on his shoulder.
 
"You've grown in such little months.''
 
A former lieutenant and his trooper, almost a decade between them—this image, it was so different. The image of Sorena, the sister, running to embrace him, it made me realize just how little we'd seen of him, of what he'd allowed us to see.
 
Sorena's eyes drifted to me, to my injuries, to the bloodied face. "How are you still even alive?"
 
I barely arched an eyebrow. "Powers can do many great things, youngling.''
 
The words lingered for a long minute, thoughts running wild and untamed in their minds, dark eyes taking in every detail. Dark eyes, mirrors to Nayal's. And the same tawny skin, the thick, coffee-dark hair. My handmaid's brother was still studying me with his stares as he whispered, "Who are you?"
 
I did not reply, even when I saw the curiosity and the first lick of fear slowly caressing their thoughts. Fear of who could wield so much strength, of who rested behind that mask. There weren't many answers for that question.
I only smiled, a slow building of magic wrapping around their ankles. "None should know of this encounter for now.'' The magic started taking shape, its emptiness swaying around their limbs.
 
Harald repeated his words, my magic at his and his sister's chests. "Tell Nayal I know who sent the dress.'' My powers were at their necks. "And she'll tell you who I am.''  
 
The magic devoured them whole. And they were gone, the knife with them.
 
I forced my feet to move, the numbness gone, but not the aftermath of the trial. The hand I raised was enough to halt Luthian from helping me, but he remained ready, in case I fell face first in snow. "You trained them, didn't you?''
 
"I did, a few months before being named Lieutenant at the Lady's service last autumn."
 
"You didn't tell them you aren't a lieutenant anymore.''
 
A heartbeat of silence passed as I made my way to the Brigadier General, a breath of magic destroying the blood still hovering in the air. I lowered myself to the ground, carefully placing my weight on my knees as one hand grabbed the Umbra Warrior by the neck, powers sneaking in his mind.
 
Luthian came along, crouching next to me. His eyes met mine. "I haven't yet felt like I truly own the position you gave me, that’s why I didn't tell them.''
 
I pushed at it no more, even when I knew and sensed all that dwelled behind those words. Instead, I asked as I pulled my hand away, "What has the Legion Leader of the north done for you to slaughter him that painfully?"
 
He didn't look surprised at what I knew, what I saw in the General's mind, as though well at ease knowing I could feel and sense and see and hear all that laid in my powers' radius. He knew I could pull the answer from his mind, but he answered nonetheless, "He was the one who burned my village, the one who had mother tied and burned down with every other woman who couldn't escape.''
 
Another wave of silence befell on us.
 
"Why opening the gate here?"