Page 111 of She Who Holds My Wrath

His expression darkens instantly. “Yes.”

“And?”

He exhales through his nose. “The Vyreshades have been whispering. Some of the dead are missing.”

Silence slams through the room as every person stiffens, my blood running cold.

“Missing?” Sariya repeats, the sunlight dimming from her eyes.

“Not destroyed. Not scavenged. Not burned,” Maelkar says. “Gone. From battlefields, tombs, mass graves. Some are deceased soldiers,” he pauses, something akin to fear crossing his face. “Some are deceased rulers. All had power in their veins.”

Elyistria’s glow dims to a pale hush. My own power starts thrumming erratically beneath my skin, sensing threat before I can name it.

“It felt organised,” Maelkar adds. “Like they were targeting specific corpses.”

“They’re building something,” Vor’Khar rumbles. “Or someone.”

I swear every time that male speaks, doom followers. The terror in the room deepens like a spreading stain.

Sariya steps forwards, golden skirts brushing the floor. “We’ve tried opening new leylines. Carefully. With Aran’s help using the grimoire.”

Aran’s jaw tightens as Elyistria speaks. “And every single one is destroyed almost immediately. As if someone is watching for the moment they stabilise.”

Virena’s mist coils tighten around her shoulders, no longer flowing freely around her. “That means spies.”

“Yes,” I say quietly. “It does.”

Sariya folds elegant hands before her. “Things are ramping up. Now is the time to move innocents. Before war breaks fully.”

“Hell’s gates are still cursed to Hellborns,” Virena reminds her. “Which means leylines are the only option, and they’re being hunted.”

Aran finally snaps, his words coming out as a snarl. “I can fix the leyline problem. I just need more time.”

“Time we don’t have,” Lucifer says lightly.

Aran rounds on him instantly. “I said I can⁠—”

“Enough!” I say with a firmness to my tone I ensure they can’t argue against. “I can try to help you with the grimoire. You don’t have to do this alone, Aran.”

“No,” Aran spits. “I can fucking do it.”

Maelkar steps towards Aran with a warning growl, protective fury burns in his gaze on my behalf. I lean forwards and catch his arm before he can move further. His muscles are rock-hard with tension beneath my fingers.

“Give him three days,” I say calmly. “Then we reassess.”

Reluctantly, the room agrees. I know they want to argue. But that would be treason in this kingdom, and nobody has the time or energy for that right now.

Virena nervously fidgets in her chair, long pale fingers twisting into the fabric of her robes. I watch her until her eyes meet mine, then I raise a brow in question.

“My realm is… wrong.” She exhales shakily. “The weather no longer cooperates. The storms are not mine and the realm feels like it’s being watched.”

Vor’Khar nods once, as though he feels the same within his realm. “Something is testing the borders.”

Elyistria exhales, closing her eyes briefly. “I think it is time.” When she opens them again, grief and certainty live there together. “War is here.”

I straighten in my seat and release a long breath through my nose. “Then I need to address the kingdom. But first, there is something I need to address with all of you.”

All of the eyes in the room are on me as I fidget with my clammy hands under the table. “Korithax is back.”