Page 8 of Spring Guardians & Songbirds

Swords were unsheathed, arrows were stringed, shadows darkened, prayers were spoken, yet no one made a single move and gods still remained heedless. I waited, and when all weapons were pulled back from realisation, they all retreated a step back. And all that brought a lovely smile to my face.

“That’s right,” I said. “A curtsy would have been good. Kneeling, too. Might want to use those legs before I break them all.”

Some flinched, others murmured prayers. Didn’t they realise that the only god that would ever hear what they said was me?

“Snowlin,” Larg called, approaching to inspect his otherwise still breathing queen.

“It’s Your Majesty to you, Adriatian,” Lazarus growled, his wings ruffling in agitation.

Didn’t even get to roll my eyes. It was not worth the headache. Volantians and their hot bloodedness made me prone to migraines.

“She is not our queen, never will be,” a young man shouted, coming to view. A familiar face, one I’d seen at the trials once before. Brave front from someone whose heart was about to make him a Midworld spirit in a second or two.

Lazarus stood from where he sat and levelled the Adriatian a glare. “She might not be your queen, but she is mine.”

Larg took a step closer to me, confusion bunched between his dark brows. “What queen?”

I flicked some ashes from my shoulder. “I am certain you have a guess.”

He shook his head, studying my troops one by one and then me, eyes lingering on the insignia on my shoulder. “I have to be wrong. Olympia perished.”

“Myrdur perished.”

His gaze dropped to the ground, a frustrated hand running through his long curly greyed locks. “The mist is poison. There is nothing beyond”

“The mist is protection and just because you can’t see beyond doesn’t mean there is nothing beyond. What is it with you Adriatians and short-sightedness?”

“It is not possible.”

I leaned in and whispered, “Just how I am not the Ybris?”

His attention snapped to me. I waited for it to transform—for confusion to turn to fear. Yet to my disappointment it never came, he looked merely stunned and curious. “How could you control it? Your magic is meant to be chaos, uncontrollable. How?”

Leave it to a man to tell me what my magic is and is not. Pointing my chin to the charred field of death behind us, I gave him a smile. “I am chaos, Larg, and I navigate it my way, too. I was never going to allow anyone beside me to control it, neither were my siblings.”

Shock widened in his face. “Silas never knew?”

“Never even doubted. I have his attempts scarring my body.” Taking a step closer to him, I looked up at the cracks of night that hadn’t quite covered day. The magic of the Obscur Asteri. “My uncle lied to you all those years ago.” He had lied to everyone, including my father. “He never knew either. But you have always wanted for me to be that monster, so here I am, General.”

There was a flash of panic somewhere behind all that old armour or age he had. “You showed nothing but kindness today, Snowlin.”

“Kindness?” The laugh leaving my mouth took me aback as well. “Who is guarding Amaris while all of you are here? Who is guarding Amaris while your battalions are tending Lyra, Sidra and Sitara? Who is guarding Lyra, Sidra and Sitara while my men are still bringing eudemons, the unblessed, rain and murk to your shores?”

Adriatian faces paled as they exchanged uncomfortable glances among each other. One particular Adriatian was staring at me like he’d never stared at me before. Mal wore his disbelief with anger, something I couldn't understand considering who he was and who he was related to and who he pretended to be and how he lied. I could count the list till the never tomorrows.

The same man I’d seen at the trials stepped forward, anger blazing his eyes and defiance curling in his smile. Grey, was it not? “This is our land and we are under the blanket of night. I’d be afraid to make such threats if I were you.”

Blinding white lightning illuminated the dark sky bright at my command. For a few flashing seconds, even the sun wouldn’t have outshone this night the way lightning did. “It can thunder at night, too.”

Something stirred behind the Adriatian lines. Something cold and warm at the same time. Something threatening to scourge my soul while wanting to blanket me from all harm. Night felt somehow darker. Day somewhat dimmer.

And then I saw him.

Beautiful as ever, he stared at me like no man should ever stare at his death. Full of longing, want, agony and something else. Had he been happy to hear of my death? Had he rejoiced with his people to celebrate that he’d won over me without even lifting a dagger?

Titling my head to the side, I said, simpering, “Husband.”

His eyes flashed and his chest rose along his heavy breaths. I’d never seen him this struck before. “Tend to our dead and head to Amaris,” he ordered his men, his attention never leaving me. “Now.”