Chapter Eleven

Although we've been atop the parapets for some time now, I'm unsure anything could have prepared me for this moment. Watching an army of twenty-five thousand Minalese and Brealan soldiers line up in formation, it strikes me that I'm nearing the end of this thousand year war.

The sinking evening sun casts golden rays over the road nestled between two mountains and winds down into the Pass. My breath catches in my throat as shouts ring out from below and all sound seems to be wiped from the vicinity.

There is no chirping of songbirds or cricketing of night weasels to be heard through the deafening roar in my ears. As the ground begins to tremble, I tear my gaze from the men with spears and shields that align in neat squares in front of the hill.

The evening breeze whips through my hair, and I ball my hands into a tight fist behind my back when the sun glints off the plethora of silver breastplates that appear in the distance.

The front is led by a cavalry armed with crossbows that rest in their laps and longswords unsheathed from their sides. Foot soldiers armed with similar longswords and shields follow, the echo of their collective footsteps akin to the beat of a loud drum. They're close.

"Don't fret, My Queen." Sensing my growing unease, Alexander's palm comes to rest gently on the sleeve of my plain white tunic. His features soften when I turn my head and meet his honey eyes. "Commander Lathing is as much a seasoned warrior as I. One is not handed that position for his name. It must be earned."

The tightness in my chest dissipates as I allow his words to douse my fear. Alexander is right. I must trust in the plans that have been made, along with both Commander Lathing and General Branslen. Men such as they have fought the fight and lived to tell the tale for a reason.

Over Alexander's shoulder, I watch an archer knock an arrow and pull the string back to his chin. Cold sweeps through me, as he can be no more than twelve. The string pulls taut when he uses his elbow to sweep away the fine blonde hair that falls into his eyes. Sensing my stare upon him, he turns his head to glance at me with sea-colored eyes, then quickly averts his gaze.

My attention snaps back to Alexander when his hand moves to cradle my face. His thumb sweeps a soothing circle across the apple of my cheek, though fear reflects in the depths of his amber eyes.

"Don't use your powers until you must," he murmurs. "Once the fighting begins, it will be mayhem. We must wait for the right opportunity."

A dry swallow works down my throat and I nod. Breaking our shared gaze, I raise my hand to shield my eyes from the sinking sun. Risian soldiers have descended into the Pass, the distance between crimson and silver reduced to a mere furlong in the time my attention has been elsewhere. The clashing of swords is likely to happen at any moment.

My breath catches in my throat when I turn my head to the west. A lone onyx steed crests the lush hillside. Ten mounted men follow close behind.

It's a feeling of eyes upon me more than an absolute truth. The thread of the bond that has lain dormant now rises from the depths of my soul as the midnight-colored steed trots a few paces forward, standing out among the rest. The armor of the man who sits atop the horse doesn't speak of finery, though it shines the brightest shade of silver beneath the low hanging sun. Despite the distance that separates us, there is no denying the long, vertical scratch that adorns the center of the breastplate. Almost as if the owner just barely managed to escape a blow aimed at the heart.

This obvious marking aside, nothing else leads me to believe this is the insufferable man I've attempted to stave off for five hundred years.

A gut wrenching horror drenches and time seems to slow to a crawl when he removes his silver helmet in the next moment. Fear unlike any I've ever known seeps into my bones when his cropped raven hair is freed and he dismounts. In the far reaches of my mind, I realize that Alexander's warm fingers curl around the hand that rests at my side.

The breadth of the soldier's shoulders becomes plain when he turns and takes two long strides toward a chestnut stallion that crests the hill and comes to a stop. Although I'm unable to see who he is speaking to, I find that I can't tear my gaze away from him.

With a shaky breath, I pray to the stars that I'm wrong. Though all the preparations that have been made were for this exact scenario, my mind is nothing more than a blank piece of parchment, terror lacing the single inky word that crawls across the page. Mate.

The thousand small wounds that mar my soul rip open, oozing with remembrance when the soldier glances over his shoulder and cerulean eyes land upon me in an instant. Oxygen doesn't find my lungs when he angles his body and turns to face me once more. One deep breath and I follow his piercing gaze to where my hand joins with Alexander's. The sharp tug within my chest nearly brings me to my knees and I stumble backward when the King of Risian's lips stretch into a full, malevolent smile, complete with a dimple in his left cheek.

It's a smile that holds an oath of everything I've come to fear over the last five centuries. Of pure, unadulterated submission to the thread that intertwines our beings for the rest of our existence.

I'm threatened to drown beneath the tide of panic that overcomes me when his gaze snaps back to me. And though each cell in my mind screams at me to turn and flee, those thoughts crumble to dust when the bond speaks. Go. Go to him, the reinvigorated thread coaxes. Let us be joined with our mate once more. It is where we belong.

Flashes of the most serene images are brought to life, the depths of his bright blue eyes enticing me to forget all that has become of us.

Almost as if our souls speak a language of their own, the hardened planes of his face soften as we stare at one another. All traces of malicious intent vanish when he angles his head to the side in acknowledgement. The thread in my chest coils with elation when he lifts his hand from his side. Although it doesn't extend in my direction, my soul takes it as more than an invitation to lay down arms against one another.

"My Queen."

The rumble of Alexander's low murmur draws me out of the haze. I tear my gaze away, all folly notions of peace slinking back into the shadows alongside the bond when his grasp on my hand tightens.

"What."

Turning my head toward the General, I don't have to look over my shoulder to know that the King of Risian's eyes have never left me. I feel his stare with each slow, steadying breath I take.

Closing my eyes, I smooth the tension from my features until I resemble a queen once more. I can't allow my tainted and dull soul to control me. My deep-seated hatred against the mirror of my soul will not be obliterated with a mere glance or lies spewed from well-shaped lips.

I've come much too far to turn back now. I didn't spend five centuries repairing all that he's broken inside me to entertain the idea of laying down arms now. Is that true though? a voice hisses. Whether it's my own mind or the bond, I'm unable to tell.

Giving Alexander a small nod and a smile that I know doesn't meet my eyes, I pull my hand from his and turn my attention back to the battlefield. The archers on either side of me hold the strings of their bows tight beneath their chins, prepared to fire. Large obsidian shields align in a neat row, forming a barricade between the plane that will be the battlefield and the hill my damnable mirror soul camps on.

For reasons I can't explain, my eyes return to the hilltop once more. As expected, his eyes have not strayed from me. My pulse flutters when our gazes clash once more. His lips move and, though I can't make out the words, the thread in my chest is mesmerized by the action.

I blink and the battlefield is blanketed with the darkness. Embers of rage flare to life when the metallic remnants of his magic cling to the roof of my mouth. Shouts of confusion ring out and the sound of clashing swords resounds a moment later. The whistle of arrows sailing through the air follows my next inhale.

A deep rumble splits through the air and my face is met with the cold stone of the battlement. Haze clouds my vision when my teeth clench, and a high-pitched ring flows through my ears. Fear strikes a chord within me when a warm body lands on mine. The roughness of a jawline scratches against my cheek as I attempt to take a deep breath. My throat catches when the pressure on my chest makes it almost impossible for my lungs to be filled with oxygen.

After what seems to be a lifetime, I blink away the blur from my vision and Alexander's panic-stricken features come into view, hovering above me. A pounding ricochets through my skull as I blink once more and rays of sunlight temporarily blind me. The General's lips move, though no sound penetrates the ringing in my ears.

When he removes his weight from me and I'm able to draw a full breath once more, I scramble backward. Rough fragments of rock bite into the skin of my palms. I turn my head to find a gaping hole in the center of the stone column that makes up the southern wall. Large, cool rain drops kiss my skin as the wind picks up and the skies open.

With anger setting my blood alight, I sit up on my elbows and bend my knees. "I'm fine," I say, though the pounding in my head increases tenfold when I stand on quivering legs. "How long?"

"Only a minute or two, My Queen." Exhaling an unnerved breath, I wipe the dirt and debris from my palms down the front of my trousers. "And that blast? They've brought catapults and are currently attacking the southern wall."

I turn to face the chaos of the southern wall. Mounted men in silver armor charge through the hole in the wall, bringing their swords down to cut through the necks of my men with little effort. Red, black, and khaki seem to be the new colors of what was once a formidable stronghold. The air is thick with smoke, glowing red embers littering almost every inch of the ground below.

I turn to face Alexander once more. "And the numbers?"

"We're pushing their lines back with success, but it seems the scouts were right—"

A bitter laugh escapes my throat, because there's no fucking way this is happening right now. "General, are you telling me we don't know the location of fifteen thousand enemy soldiers?"

"Yes, My Queen."

I offer him no response, though trepidation sinks into my depths. A twisted, more nefarious part of me claws to the surface and demands to be freed, relishing in the fact that catapults are now a part of the battle. How easy it would be to turn the tide of this war, it hisses. As much as I wish to deny it, I know my soul is right. While I don't know much about my powers, I do know that a simple raise of my palm can obliterate the catapults, along with a sizable portion of Risian forces.

Another boulder sailing through the air draws my gaze northward. It explodes into fragments upon meeting its target of the gatehouse below me. The men that stood guard at the entrance are nowhere to be found now when I lean forward to peer over the parapet.

Though my sight is limited, what I am able to see paints a gruesome scene. Bile rises up my throat when my gaze lands on a hand sticking out from beneath the large boulder. The eight men who do remain raise their swords and charge toward the Risian soldiers, who draw near in a desperate attempt to protect access to the parapets.

Fury nestles into my bones when I realize that not only has the boulder created a significant amount of damage to my men, but also to the horses. Their whines for mercy intertwine with the screams of pain that stretch across the battlefield. Without the horses, my men stand little chance of beating the advancement of Risian's cavalry.

Taking a deep breath, I place my hands on the stone fortification before me. Wild cerulean eyes find me the moment I step onto the outermost edge, the bond drawing my focus to him.

"My Queen, it's not yet ti—" Screams of agony that sound from below drown out Alexander's remaining words.

I tamper down my rage with determination and ignore the mirror of my soul's stare. Closing my eyes, I tilt my head skyward and imagine unlocking the delicate cage that houses my powers. Emotions burst to the surface as the bars melt. Love, fear, hatred, and desire filter into my chest one by one with each lock that is freed. A whisper of emotion inside my soul pleads for me to see reason. I push it aside and allow my hatred and fury for all the destruction the King of Risian has brought my life to fill me.

Raising my palms upward, a rush of unrestrained power unlike anything I've felt before courses through my veins. I taste the power that filters into the air on the tip of my tongue as the wind picks up speed. A piece of hair sweeps across my forehead in time with the treetops that sway in the distance. The wind carries lashing sheets of rain that reduce my visibility of the battlefield greatly, but I don't mind.

The feeling spreads, swathing my bones with white-hot sparks that carry both life and death. The pulse of my magic comes to rest in my fingertips, beckoning me to be guided by its instincts. I open my eyes and allow it to consume me.

With a crack of thunder overhead, hell rains down upon my enemy.