The congregation let out a resounding roar in approval, and every Charmer raised one hand to the ceiling. Hundreds of groans crashed around us as beast realm door after beast realm door opened in a flood of blinding, rainbow light. Beasts answered the call, their war cries carrying from the realm to our ears, and hot tears pricked the back of my eyes.
Every Charmer, save the sick and the young, pledged to join me in that moment, even those who’d initially held out. We were in thistogether. And we would end this together. Raising my own hand, I summoned my rosewood glow and wrenched open the beast realm door.
“For Celeste. For our beasts. Forus.”
When I turned back to my Council and found them all kneeling, hands fisted over their chests, the tears that’d been brewing streamed down my cheeks. And I knew with every fiber of my being that if they believed in me, if my people believed in me, then we could do this.
It was time to march on Wilheim.
* * *
Arriving at Midnight Jester several days later was like coming home all over again. It was strange to think that three separate places—Cruor, Hireath, and here—could all have that effect on me, but they did. Each place owned a piece of my heart, and my favorite black market tavern was no exception.
Madeline, the Sentinel who’d defected with her brigade to join our forces, had greeted us immediately and commanded her soldiers to help us set up camp. Given the size of our troops, it’d taken us longer to reach the tavern than expected. Trekking through dense wood and thickets of thorn-covered vines—all with little to no visibility, thanks to the network of tree branches overhead—made for slow travel. And, there was the matter of our quick detour to Cruor.
After everyone had dispersed from the throne room, I’d found myself lingering by the statue of Celeste and Ocnolog. I’d trailed my fingers over the prophecy, hesitating for a moment as I read again about the fires Ocnolog would bring. And as I traced those ancient symbols, a deep, unsettling weight dragged my stomach to the floor. A cold sweat immediately gathered along my hairline, and uncontrollable shivers raced over my skin.
Noc had taken one look at me and rushed to my side, shadows already swirling around us in case he’d needed to protect us from danger. But there wasn’t any immediate threat—just the unbearable sense of dread that seemed to stem from the prophecy itself.
Or rather, Ocnolog. One look at his gleaming, ruby eyes and the symptoms amplified a hundred times over.
“We need to get everyone out,” I’d said. “Even those who aren’t fighting. No exceptions.”
I don’t know if it was the fear in my voice or the obvious, visceral reaction I had to the statue, but no one questioned me. The Council backed my order, and they dispatched all available hands to quickly pack up any lingering Charmers. We still had no intentions of forcing them to fight, though, so we’d stopped by Cruor where Noc could safely lock down the residence and keep them out of harm’s way.
Now, we just had to orchestrate our attack with the forces we did have.
Madeline had gone into Midnight Jester ahead of us, clearing the place out so we could strategize without interruptions. Other than her, Isla and the Council, the only person who remained inside the tavern was Dez. He reclined on a barstool and eyed us as we entered one by one. His eyes lit up the moment he saw me, his crooked grin pulling at the jagged scar along his face. I crossed the creaking floorboards and threw my arms around his shoulders. He smelled like stale ale and peppermint oil, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d simply hugged him. When we’d said our goodbyes before, there’d been so much happening. An enraged Noc threatening to hurt him. Dead bodies on the lawn. My whole life packed up in a duffel bag—the very belongings he’d painstakingly kept safe for me in case I ever returned. We’d parted ways with some semblance of reconciliation, but I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed him until I felt the coarse fabric of his tunic against my arms.
“Hey,” he said, returning my embrace. “This won’t get me killed, right?”
I chuckled, then broke off our hug. “No. I promise.” Noc and the rest of the Council took seats at a large table centered in the room, along with Isla and Madeline. Mugs were already positioned before the rickety chairs, and Calem snatched his and took a long swig.
“It’s good to see you,” Dez said, resting his hands on his thighs. “Been awhile.”
“A lot has happened.”
“No kidding. Well, I won’t keep the queen from her subjects,” he finished with a smirk. Heat flushed my cheeks, and I batted his arm before moving to the table and taking my place by Noc’s side. I should’ve assumed Dez would put two and two together, but it felt weird to have him acknowledge me as anything other than “Leena” when I used to rent the room above his tavern.
The first hour of conversation consisted of Noc recapping events, the threats we faced, and our newfound allies in Rhyne. When he’d finished, Madeline shared what had been happening behind the capital walls: the extra fortifications Varek had constructed and the ever-vigilant watches he’d established. She had little information about Darrien and his men or Yazmin, as apparently the king kept them close and they didn’t mingle with the rest of the soldiers. Isla weighed in on the strengths and weakness of her forces, but revealed absolutely nothing about her own magical abilities. In general, mages were fiercely protective of their powers and shared little about the intricacies of how it all worked. Isla was no different.
When all our mugs had been drained, Dez sauntered over and refilled each one from a ceramic pitcher, then laid out a few platters of his more edible dishes. An assortment of cheeses and fruit, hunks of bread with oil for dipping, and potato slices fried in lard.
“So,” Calem said, popping a grape into his mouth, “if Varek has gone to all this extra effort to fortify Wilheim, how are we going to get to Yazmin before she raises Ocnolog?”
“I’ll set my Telesávra’s hearth point to wherever we make camp. From there, I’ll transport a small group of elite fighters directly into the castle through the beast realm.” An image of my slumbering parents surfaced in my mind, and the potato wedge I’d been nibbling on turned to glue. “When we’ve stopped her, we’ll return through the portal.”
“We have to act quickly.” Gaige’s fingers traced the whorls and grains in the wood as he spoke. “The anniversary of Celeste’s death is only a few days away.”
A few days.It would take us that long just to move our army from Midnight Jester to Wilheim’s doorstep. And the moment we left the protective shroud of the Kitska Forest, we’d be exposed. “We’ll leave tomorrow, then. If we can get to Yazmin before she raises Ocnolog, then we’ll only have to worry about defeating Varek.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Kost rubbed his temple as he stared at the tarnished silver candle manning the center of our table. “The castle will be teeming with soldiers. How many people do you think you can safely escort through the realm?”
I chewed on the inside of my lip. “Ten, maybe fifteen if we interlock arms and I project my magic long enough. More than that, though, and I’d worry about us losing our grip or the realm door closing since the beast will have already made its way through.”
“Right.” Kost sighed, then met my gaze. “Fifteen elite fighters would still be no match for all of Wilheim.”
“He’s right. When I left, there were at least ten soldiers stationed per hall.” Madeline smooshed a wedge of cheese between two chunks of bread and tossed it into her open mouth.
