Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Zenith

"Fire!"

I bolt upright in bed, flinging Anash off my side in my rush.

"Fire!" someone yells from outside.

Anash grumbles and rubs his eyes, then rolls over.

"Fire!"

I'm up and climbing into my breeches, my heart thudding as a spike of energy zings through me. What's burning? Not our camp, I hope. We need these supplies for the success of our mission. The fact that I smell no smoke in the air, no hint of ash or cinder bodes well.

But if not the camp, then what?

Anash is sitting up, bleary-eyed and bed-headed. "Mmphf?"

"Stay here." I jam my feet into my boots. "I'll send guards to protect you."

He blinks. "From what?"

"From whoever set that fire." My mate isn't meant for war. Part of me knows he shouldn't be here. But I'm greedy. Queen Aurielle sent him, and I want him, and that is that.

Finally, his gaze focuses, and awareness lights his features. "Fire?"

Outside our tent, someone shouts, "Wake! Fire!"

Alarm flickers across his face.

"Don't worry," I say. "The troops and I will handle it."

"But it's raining."

It's what? I stop and listen. Anash is right. Raindrops pitter-patter on our tent's canopy. What in the seven seas? "Stay put."

He flings off the covers, baring naked skin. "I should come with you."

"No. You'll be safe here. I'll send guards for you." I roll my shoulders and call forth my wings. A fire in the rain is unnatural. Magic is afoot. There's no time to waste.

"But, Zenith?—"

"Stay. That's an order." It comes out harsher than I meant. I'll apologize later.

Outside, dawn's light is only just creeping over the horizon. Pitch-black smoke billows from downriver.

The camp's not burning.

The bridge is.

And the flames are an eerie shade of orange-red. Angry and sizzling in the early morning rain shower.

Curses . I snap open my wings and take flight as the sentry on watch continues to wake the men. I'm looking for Nola and Roland Clover, a sister and brother pair I've been considering appointing to the role of Anash's guards when I cannot protect him myself. No better time than the present.

They're hurrying from their tent, dressed as sloppily as me, clothes thrown on in a rush. No time to land, so I yell from the air. "Clovers!"

They halt in their tracks and look up. "Yes, General?"

"Go to my tent and guard Anash. See that no harm comes to him in my absence."

"Yes, sir," they say in chorus.

With that taken care of, I beat my wings and fly toward the flames.

It's probably too late to save the bridge, though several of my soldiers are already dousing the nearest flames. At least one girder has burned through. Planks thunk into the river and are swept away.

With the direct route to Rutherton thus impeded, we'll have to go the long way around. I calculate the extra sunstrides in my mind. Damn. This could add nearly a week to our journey.

We can't afford the delay, but as the smoldering ruin of a bridge floats downriver, I see no other choice.

Who set this blaze? What treachery is afoot? I fly across the river to scout the other side, perhaps to catch the fleeing rebels and hold them accountable for their crimes.

"Zenith, wait up!" Anash's voice rises over the snapping and crackling of the fire.

I whirl around. He's flying toward me, his unsteady wings fluttering wildly. He's learned to create his cloud streets with magic, currents of warm air to lift him and make flight possible, even though his halfling wings aren't suited for it. An impressive feat, but not one I want to witness now, with danger lurking from all sides.

"Go back to camp," I order.

But he pays no heed. "What's happening?"

Behind him, Nola and Roland give chase. "Sorry, sir. He said he needed to relieve himself, but when we turned our heads to grant him privacy, he took off."

Sounds like something he'd do. But disobeying a direct order from one's high general cannot be tolerated. "Anash, I told you to stay put."

"And I worried for you. Why are you all alone? Where are your soldiers?"

"Dealing with the flames."

"The flying ones should have your back. You're going to hunt down who set it, right? I'll come with you."

"You'll go straight back to camp and wait for me there."

He hardens his gaze. "I will not leave you alone."

Nola and Roland share a tight-lipped glance. I hate that they're bearing witness to this quarrel. It's an unforgivable lapse of professionalism on my part and downright insubordination on his.

I fly into his space, pluck him from the air, and hold him close. "Anash, we cannot be seen arguing like this." I keep my voice low.

"I can't just let you run off into danger without backup."

"I'm your general. When I give you an order, I expect you to obey it."

"And I'm your bonded, whom you do not get to order around."

Stubborn. I've known this about him since we met. I didn't expect it to apply to warfare, though. "We'll discuss this later. Go back to safety. A few troublesome rebels are no match for me."

His eyes widen. "What are you planning to do to them?"

"Subdue them by whatever means I deem necessary."

"But, Zenith?—"

I cover his mouth with my hand. Nola and Rolan stare from a distance. I cannot allow this discussion to continue. "Quiet. You may speak to me however you like in private, but in front of my army?—"

A wave of magic blasts us from the sky.

As we hurtle toward the river, I clutch him to my chest, frantically beating my wings to right us.

Warm air emerges from nowhere, helping my plight. Anash's magic at work. I stretch my wings to catch the thermal, and we're lifted from the water's clutches in the nick of time.

Nola and Rolan dive through the tree canopy on the far side. They're after the culprits. I have a split second to make a decision. Follow with Anash in tow or take him to safety before going after my soldiers. Curses.

"Hold on to me," I order and race after them. Anash shouldn't be here, but it's too late to change that.

We whip through the tree cover, leaves and branches scratching our skin.

I expect to see a fight on the ground, but that's not what's happening.

One man stands alone. He looks human, but he's raised a hand like a mage, and the telltale glitter of magic surrounds him. Rain-soaked white hair is plastered to his head and shoulders. He wears no uniform but rather the garb of a simple peasant: black breeches and doublet, black leather boots, drenched black cap.

Nola and Rolan are frozen midair, snarling mad but unable to do anything about it, caught in his magical hold.

Anash untucks his head from my chest and gasps. I flex my magic to shield us, just in case this mage turns his powers our way.

I hover above the clearing, wings barely fitting between the trees. I know not if I'm outside his magic's reach or if two attackers is the limit of how many the mage can hold back, but he doesn't make a move on us.

Yet.

I'm faster than a flightless mixling. I could rush him. But what do I do with Anash?

I could test my magic against this man's. Push his limits. Try my luck. But the sheer size and speed of that unnatural fire tells me this magic wielder is uncommonly strong.

The rain comes down harder, pelting the five of us and intensifying this odd stand-off.

"Stand down, Zenith of Lemossin." A piercing voice echoes from the wooded darkness behind the mage. Six of us, then. "We wish you no harm."

"Who's there?" I ask. "Show yourself."

"Our names are of no importance." A young fae emerges and stands a step behind and to the side of the mage. He has dark purple hair and orange eyes. Pinkish coloring. Also dressed as a peasant but wearing more color: a plum vest to match his curls, and a gold necklace with a bright orange round pendant. I narrow my gaze at the other man. He has a necklace too. It looks as if it's a golden casing made just for the jewel.

Mates, then? Lovers, at least. Perhaps I could pit one against the other.

"Call off your fighters." The fae gestures at the frozen siblings. "Stand down, and we will do the same. We only wish to talk."

I've heard that before. I'll believe no lies from the enemy. "You've destroyed our way forward."

"We have."

"Then you admit to treason and must answer for your crimes. If the pair of you surrenders now, we won't go chasing after the rest." I nod toward the depths of the marshy forest.

"There are no others on this mission," he says. "No one for you to chase. Have your fighters cease their attack, or shall we have our discussion thus? With them dangling in the air, barely able to breathe, that squirming halfling in your arms, and my partner wasting his strength for nary a good reason?"

Put that way, perhaps talking would make more sense. But I don't like it. My strength lies in action. Save the talking for the diplomats.

"I'm sure the queen will want to hear what they have to say," says Anash, voice low. With the drumming of the rain, I doubt the others heard him. He has a point.

Nola's and Rolan's faces are tight. I must put an end to this. "Stand down when you're released," I order them. "Land behind me and await further instruction."

"No," says the mage, his voice a strained rumble. "Send them away. Two on two. It's only fair."

Damn. I'd rather they send Anash away to safety and let me keep my soldiers. My next words are directed to the siblings. "When you're free to go, go."

I expect more flyers to come looking for me any minute now. Soon, this pair of rebels will be outnumbered, and even the most powerful mage won't be enough.

The mage lowers his hand, and his magic fizzles out with a pop . His shoulders cave, but his stare remains focused. Ready.

Nola and Rolan thud to the ground, dazed. They look at me, and I nod for them to take off. Relief courses through me as they fly away unharmed. They'll alert the others to our location. Until then, I need to stall.

Might as well hear them out. I land and set Anash on his feet behind me. "Talk."

The smaller man steps forward. "We wish a meeting with your queen."

"You speak of her as if she isn't also your queen."

"She hasn't been the queen of the common people for a long time, General. They suffer under Aurielle's reign. We would discuss a path forward in the best interest of all the creatures of Luminia, not just the royal bloodlines."

"It's not your place to make demands of Her Majesty. It's your place to follow hers."

"Unthinkingly?" He frowns. "As you do?"

"As all good citizens of Luminia must."

"You assume we're bad citizens. We only want what's fair. No more, no less. Arrange a meeting for us under a flag of peace, and perhaps we can negotiate a truce."

Anash is uncommonly silent, for which I'm grateful. I don't want these men to turn their attention toward him.

"I will relay your request, as is my duty, but Queen Aurielle takes orders from no one."

"This isn't an order. It's an invitation. And also a threat if needs must."

I bristle, muscles coiled, ready for a tussle and planning to win. "What threat?"

"Calm down," says the mage. "We're not here to fight."

"When you threaten Her Majesty, you're asking for exactly that."

"We threaten her plans, not her life. Our maps are superior to yours, and so is our knowledge of the southern lands. We're prepared to destroy every road, every path, every bridge between here and the seashore before we let your army harm innocent people. All we want is a peaceful meeting on neutral ground, with our safety guaranteed for the duration of the discussion."

Too much talking.

They want to meet the queen? They can do it as prisoners of my army.

My focus lands squarely on the mage. His hands twitch at his sides.

I bet I'm faster.

I leap.

The mage whips his arm in a lightning-fast crescent while the fae grabs his waist. Shadows black as oil swirl around them like a funnel. A gust of wind whips my wet hair away from my face as I crash into mud.

Anash yelps from where I left him. I snap my gaze to him, squinting to see through the angry twister that's only now dissipating. To my relief, he looks surprised but unharmed.

I scan the forest, but the men are gone, disappeared, leaving only the constant battering of rain in their wake. So the fire mage can also cast portals.

My soldiers fly in on the wind. Too little, too late.

Curses.