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Beside him, Acalan heaves a weary sigh, wiping a hand over his face. “Here we go again,” he mutters. “You’d think the boy had never seen infernal armor before.”
“Not made specifically for me, from gold that I bled from my very own veins,” Li crows smugly.
Though the aviax smiths may not have Karmoko Calderis’s flair for making armor that perfectly complements its wearer, they’ve come close enough, and each suit of armor fits the boy wearing it like a glove. Even better, they’ve incorporated my blood into each one. While I don’t foresee using my voice, since by now the entirety of Otera knows that wearing the kaduth symbol can cancel out its effects, I always believe in preparing for any eventuality, no matter how slim.
“I look the very sight, the very portrait, of elegance,” Li says, doing a twirl while Britta blows a kiss at him.
But I only have eyes for Keita. I walk up to where he’s standing at the door, his armor gleaming in the shadows, a miniature sun in the darkness. It’s so similar to mine, with scale-like edges that mimic the scales on my ebiki armor, my heart pangs just seeing it.
“Did you tell the smiths to do this?” I ask, tracing a scale.
He nods. “I wanted everyone who saw it to know we are a pair. Just in case…”
We fail. I silently fill in the words for him.
One thing about Keita: he’s prepared for every eventuality too.
“We won’t fail,” I say. “We will destroy the gods, and then we’ll deal with the consequences, come what may.”
“Come what may,” Keita repeats, pressing his forehead to mine. We stand there together, skin against skin, until the horn sounds and it’s time to go.
* * *
White Hands’s troops are in perfect formation when I descend to her side. I do so while standing lightly on Ixa’s back. It’s a statement to all the soldiers who might have heard, as many have, that I’m wounded, that I can barely move of my own accord. This stance proves I’m anything but. I am strong, I am agile, and I am in control. My friends are doing the same, standing on their gryphs as they fly in a V formation behind Ixa. To anyone watching, this must be an imposing sight, but that’s the precise reason it’s one of the first things the alaki generals taught us: Intimidate an enemy, and you might never have to fight them. Intimidate an ally, and they’ll think twice before they become your enemy.
White Hands, Karmoko Thandiwe, and Lord Kamanda wait for us in front of the army. Lady Kamanda is nowhere to be seen, and at that, I am relieved. While I know the fierce noblewoman would undoubtedly cause havoc on the battlefield, she has two newborn children to look after, as well as two older ones. If everything does indeed end today, at least her children will be able to spend their last few moments in her arms.
I push back the thought by turning my gaze to White Hands. There’s a look of approval, even pride, in her eyes as I gracefully dismount from Ixa and walk over to her, my friends by my side. Another way things have changed. Just a few years ago, I would not have dared to approach a creature like Ixa, much less ride it, and I certainly would never have merited White Hands’s interest, much less her pride.
Now I can do both.
I kneel to show my respect before addressing her. Even though I am, theoretically, a god in waiting, White Hands is my elder and, more to the point, my friend. So, for this one last time, I will give her all the respect that is her due and ensure that everyone else does the same, even though I know no one is stupid enough to mistake White Hands for anything other than what she is: one of the greatest—if not the single greatest—military mind to have ever lived.
When she nods respectfully back, I rise, glance around at the troops. “What about the Hemairan troops?” I ask. White Hands has been communicating with them using her gauntlets, now that she knows all the gods are aware of our location anyway. “Are they prepared to receive us?”
“Indeed.” White Hands nods. “The karmokos and Gazal”—our former bloodsister, now a regiment commander—“are already in place, and the rest of the troops are on their way.”
“And the Army of the Goddesses?” I ask. “Has it arrived from Abeya yet?”
White Hands shakes her head. “Still nowhere to be seen, and it’s the same with the forces of the Idugu.”
“Odd,” I remark, my thoughts stirring. If I knew armies were massing to invade my city, I would at least begin mobilizing.
But this, of course, is another trick of the gods. I don’t know what reason they have for not showing their armies yet, but I’m not bothered by it. The gods aren’t the only ones who have tricks up their sleeves, and they’re certainly not the only ones who have hidden armies.
My friends and I have those as well, but the time for them has not yet arrived.
No, we’ll save them for the perfect moment.
I return my full attention to White Hands as she answers, “Indeed. But both Abeya and Hemaira have been blocked from my gauntlets, so I know they’re planning something. What it is precisely remains to be seen.” That said, she peers down at me. “You prepared for this?” she asks, her tone pointed.
I inhale a firming breath before I reply. “More than I’ve ever been.”
And it’s the truth.
After everything I’ve experienced the last few weeks, everything I’ve learned, I’m the strongest I’ve ever been. Not physically, perhaps, but mentally and emotionally. Which is just as well, because I’m about to attempt a feat that veers on the impossible. A feat the goddesses always implied that only they could perform. But they were lying, as they did about so many things, and today is the day I’ll prove them spectacularly wrong.
Britta’s eyes are wide behind her war mask as she turns to me. “Ye certain of this, Deka?” she frets, unsure. She, White Hands, Keita, and Belcalis are the only people I’ve told what I’m planning, so she’s been a mass of worry since last night. “Ye don’t have to burden yerself. It would take us about two weeks, but we would reach Hemaira.”
