Velthur placed the plate in front of her, his dark eyes assessing. “Eat something before you pass out.”
But she couldn’t. How could she swallow anything with the taste of ash and screams still thick on her tongue?
“I’m fine.”
“I don’t like repeating myself.” His voice was quiet, but the steel beneath it left no room for argument.
She took another gulp of water, but it did nothing to wash away the horror lodged in her throat.
Velthur took a seat across from her, close enough that every movement set her on edge. His presence filled the space, quiet yet suffocating. The leather breastplate he wore moulded to the contours of his frame, depicting sculpted muscles she had no doubt were real underneath. Despite their ride to the battlefield, it remained immaculate—just like him.
His gaze flicked to the scrolls scattered across the table, and with unsettling calm, he broke the seal on the first one. He read the missive, then rolled it up with care and set it aside. He repeated the process with the next scroll, as if the mundane task demanded the same focus as a battle strategy.
With trembling hands, Leywani nibbled a piece of flatbread, tasting nothing. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, even though Velthur’s attention remained fixed on the scrolls before him.
She had no idea what Velthur intended for her, but instinct told her to brace herself. The bruises had faded, but the memories hadn’t. She’d survived her husband, and she’d survive whatever came next. So she stiffened her spine, preparing for the worst.
Her eyes drifted to him, just at the edge of her vision. In the dim torchlight, his golden-brown skin caught the glow, making the darkness of his eyes even more striking.
She looked again, and this time, his gaze was already upon her. Two bottomless pools that revealed nothing yet seemed to strip her bare, seeing far more than she was willing to give.
Her pulse quickened as he studied her in silence. She wanted to drop her gaze, to escape the weight of his stare, but forced her head high instead, refusing to show even the smallest sign of weakness.
She was under no illusions. He held all the power. They were inside his tent, sitting at his table, eating his food. She was his to command and use as he wished—the Emperor’s words had implied as much—but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cower in fear.
“Leywani, was it?”
She nodded, wary.
“Sounds Parthian.”
“It is,” she admitted after a beat. “My grandparents came from the tribes bordering the Freefolk Lands.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “Did they ever teach you about the Parthian demon of wrath and violence?”
She hesitated. Her mother’s mother, her nan, had told her stories in secret when she was younger. Camp Bessi’s elders forbade anyone from speaking of the gods, but her nan had whispered them anyway, passing down the old ways in hushed voices behind closed doors. Even then, Leywani had sensed the danger in those tales—the reverence in her nan’s voice, laced with both fear and awe, as she spoke of things long buried.
Demons were mentioned only in daylight—and always in whispers.
“They’re just stories to scare children,” she murmured, but the words rang hollow. She didn’t believe them. Not anymore.
Velthur leaned back, his fingers tapping against the table, the rhythmic sound unsettling her. “And yet we both saw some today—Laran’s demons. The Makhai. You saw what they’re capable of.”
Leywani swallowed hard. “How many… did they kill?”
“Once the rebellion is crushed, the count will be in the thousands.”
Thousands. The word lodged itself in her chest.
“What will you do with me now?” she whispered.
He met her gaze, his dark eyes steady. “I need you to deliver a message for me.”
“A message?” She frowned. “To whom?”
A hint of a smirk ghosted across his lips. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Leywani bit her tongue to keep from snapping at him. She hated the way he spoke in half-answers, always leaving her grasping for control she didn’t have. It reminded her of her husband, who’d kept her ignorant of camp affairs and hunting trips, bending every part of her life to his will.
