Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Anash

Isolde and I slog onward, alternating between walking and flying depending on which parts ache the worst: our feet or our wings. At present, we walk.

Days upon days of trudging toward the next bridge has taken its toll on morale. The soldiers are sluggish. Everyone is stiff. Captain Randal, generally a calm man, has been snappy with his orders.

Zenith is stoic as ever, forging ahead as though nothing could curtail his inevitable victory, not bad weather, not arson, not tired soldiers, not even the truth from his mate should I grow a pair strong enough to spill it.

If anything, recent setbacks have made him even more stubborn in his pursuit.

Between the endless marching and our task of evaluating everyone in terms of their magical powers, my only spare minutes have been spent passed out from exhaustion in a tiny cot the army calls a bed.

At least Isolde has proven to be good company. Intelligent, efficient, and kind, she's easy to work with. And she hasn't shown one lick of distaste for my incubus traits, which is rare among fae. If only we were on the same side, I'm sure we'd make an excellent team.

Perhaps even friends.

It would be nice to have a friend who wasn't related to me or sleeping with me. Ah, yet another thing to dream about for when this war is over.

"We should circle back to Wallup and Jessup," she says.

I hear the fatigue in her voice. Of all the mixlings we've surveyed, Jessup has the most potential. But he's untrained, quiet, and constantly defers to his more outgoing brother. To use Jessup—whether to aid us against Rahz or, in my case, to turn him against Queen Aurielle's unjust war—we'll need Wallup on board.

"Agreed. Now?"

She sighs. "If not now, when?"

I echo her sigh. "Yes, yes. I know. It's just I'm busy fantasizing about an enormous four-poster bed with a feather mattress and?—"

"A certain six-foot-tall gargoyle?" She winks. "I'll bet you are. As you should be."

"He's at least six foot five, Isolde."

"I hadn't noticed." Her green wings flutter as she laughs. "Six foot five and built like a grain silo. Do your arms even fit around that big, barreled chest of his?"

"They don't need to. I've got this." I flick her opposite shoulder with my tail.

She whips around to look, realizes she's been tricked, then catches me with a glare and, finally, a smirk. "Three hands are better than two?"

"Exactly so." I grin.

"I'll have to imagine. Come on." She takes off, still laughing.

I call to the air and make a warm cloud street so I can follow.

We're busy chatting with Jessup about the possibility of spelling our troops' arrows when Randal calls for a break.

The whole contingent stops to rest, have some food, and refill our leather water bladders. It feels so nice to sit down.

We tuck into our meal of hard bread, dried meat, sharp cheeses, and fresh berries. Wallup and Jessup are fun to talk to. They have some good stories of being rowdy boys growing up together in a house filled with seven sisters.

"Seven sisters!" says Isolde. "I'm an only child. I can't imagine seven siblings. And all of them girls."

I can. Seven Karias would have me wrapped around their little fingers all hook, line and sinker. I'd never get anything done for myself.

I'm sipping on a delightful sour ale when the scent of woodsmoke stings my nose.

Just a campfire, surely. Or the hearth of a far-flung homestead. Nothing to worry about.

Except the longer we sit here, the stronger the smell becomes. Wallup and Jessup share a concerned glance. Isolde casts a similar one my way.

Uh-oh.

Not again.

Ahead of us, Zenith takes to the sky. Curious and without orders to the contrary, I call warm air beneath my wings and follow him up.

The closer I get, the worse our newest problem becomes.

Another fire. A big one. Over the river.

Where the next bridge should be.

Frustration tightens my throat. A wave of anger heats the tips of my ears. But wait, the arsonist is my accomplice. I'm on their side. This is good news.

Another blocked passage will slow us down further. And though that's what I want, my heart aches for the soldiers who've come this far, only to be thwarted once again. For the captain whose patience wears thin already. And for Zenith, who wishes to win this war as fast as possible.

What will this mean for us? More days of endless plodding?

Something worse?

Zenith's low, rumbling growl turns to a roar. He balls his hands and spins in the air.

"Anash." He speaks my name through clenched teeth.

A shiver grips me, and I almost lose my hold on the cloud street keeping me airborne.

His face softens as he swoops toward me and gathers me up. "I didn't mean to startle you."

It's always a rush how easily he handles my weight, even in flight. "You aren't mad?"

"Not at you." His chest rumbles, where I'm pressed against him. "I only meant to ask you to get me Jessup while I gather the other advisors. We must speak."

"Wallup too?"

"If you think that would help."

"Jessup is more confident with his brother at his side."

"Then yes, get them both. Bring them to what remains of the bridge, and have the others rest until we come to a decision."

"All right. Give me a boost while I summon warm air."

He does, and I head back. What does he think Jessup can do to reverse a burned bridge? But asking questions now will only frustrate him further.

A glance over my shoulder reveals angry red flames, dancing orange sparks, and smoke as dark as nightmares.

Rahz sure knows how to burn things.

I hope he knows how to build them back when all of this is over.