Ferris looked up. "So I was right?" His brow furrowed. "This doesn't make any sense. Scádes have never attacked anyone before. They're normally docile."
"Yes, well," I said, finding my voice. "Now they're leading armies against us."
"Are they?" Bláth questioned, arms folded tightly across her chest. "Why did they suddenly decide to attack?"
"You think something else is behind it?" Ferris asked.
"What else?" I said, listless. "The black tide is here."
"The black tide means end times.” Ferris tried to rise, and winced when he put pressure on his bleeding leg. "Where we either bring back Solathair or all perish. I'm not nearly religious enough to be a part of it."
"Neither am I," Liam muttered.
I gasped, grabbing both his shoulders as he sat up. "Are you okay?"
"Mhm.” He nodded wearily. "Are we dead?"
"Not yet," I said, releasing him.
Liam ran a hand across his eyes and opened them. Fog swirled across his irises, concealing their color.
"Liam?" I cupped his cheek and turned his face toward mine.
He stared past me, oblivious. Then, he blinked, and his eyes returned to normal—a gentle pale-green.
Bláth stared down at us, fingers clenched around her arms. Her eyes flicked over Liam’s face, searching.
She’d noticed.
The last thing I needed was a Solheart thinking my brother was some kind of heretic. Leaping to my feet, I stepped between them.
“Should we bury the dead?” I lifted my chin, forcing my voice to steady. “Or should we lead the survivors to safety?”
Bláth's face fell. A young man collapsed in front of a guard's body, sobbing. Little remained of the corpse. He’d been torn in half.
“We should bury the dead,” Bláth decided. “We need time to find mounts that bolted, tend to injuries. And rest.” She took a few steps away, then stopped. “Liam?” She called. “During the battle, you . . . ”
Liam stood, dusting himself off. “Did nothing, I know. My catalyst . . . doesn't work at night.”
“Ah.” Bláth’s golden eyes flicked over him again before she turned away.
Ferris lifted his boot, eyeing the blood-stained leather. “I guess I should get Reese to look at this."
"Yes, you should," I said. "The king will kill me if his son dies of infection on my watch."
Ferris met my gaze, brow furrowed. He opened his mouth twice before finally forming a single word. “Mare?”
“Yes?” I asked stiffly.
“You . . . you look the picture of a Tirnanog Myrmidon. It suits you.” He touched his chest in an Aenir salute, then limped away.
Liam swallowed, eyes flicking to me. My fingernails dug into my arm, biting through my shirt.
This no longer felt like a gathering of allies, standing against the tide.
It felt like a group of foes who did not yet know they should strike.
Chapter 22
