Page 204 of The Infernal Battalion

Raesinia nodded. “And we have the chance to help them. I want to start an organization to handle demon-​hosts here in Vordan, and hopefully across the continent. We can work with the people at the Mountain, and—”

Winter held up a hand. “What do you mean, handle?”

“Not locking them up, like the Church did. But they’re going to need to be guided, educated, protected. Everyone is going to have to learn that demons aren’t always evil, and that’s going to take time. And when a demon-​host does use their powers to hurt people, someone is going to have to make sure they’re apprehended and punished, as is appropriate under the law.”

“Sort of an Armsmen for demons?” Winter smiled wryly. “I can see how that would be useful, I suppose. So you want me to help?”

“Actually,” Raesinia said, “I was hoping that you would be the first captain. Or whatever we end up calling the top job.”

Unexpectedly, Winter began to laugh, quietly at first and then so hard she doubled herself over. Raesinia watched her, concerned, as she finally subsided, wiping her eyes and gasping for breath.

“I didn’t think the idea was that ridiculous,” the queen muttered.

“It’s a fine idea,” Winter said. “But why?” She gestured down at herself. “What is it about me? Why does everyone seem to think I’m fit to be in charge of things?”

Raesinia cocked her head, puzzled. “Because you’ve been good at everything you’ve put your hand to, I imagine.”

“I—” Winter paused, then shook her head. “Never mind.”

“Will you do it?”

Winter let out a long breath, looking thoughtful. “I’ll have to think about it.”

Epilogue

Winter

ONE YEAR LATER

It was the first time Winter had worn her new dress uniform. It was elegant, dove gray with blue piping, the two silver stars of the new rank of commander on each shoulder. It was also well tailored, unlike the old hand-me-down uniforms she’d been making do with while the new organization’s look was finalized. This uniform actually fit, and the figure she saw looking back at her from the mirror was unsettlingly different.

“It looks good on you,” Cyte said, coming in from the living room.

She wore a blue army uniform, her shoulders bearing the new General Staff insignia, but the tailoring was the same and Winter had to admit she liked the way it looked on her, too. Winter slid a finger into her collar and tugged, awkwardly, then ran a hand through her hair. She’d started cutting it when it reached her shoulders, but she was still getting used to the feel of it against the back of her neck.

“Thanks,” Winter said. “Yours looks... um... good. Also.”

“You need to relax.” Cyte crossed the bedroom and put her arms around Winter’s waist, drawing her close for a kiss. Winter closed her eyes as their lips met, letting the world melt away. “We’re not exactly charging Borelgai lines tonight.”

“It’s worse than that,” Winter muttered, reluctant to pull back. “It’s a party.”

*

The Great Hall of Ohnlei Palace lived up to its name. Possibly the largest room Winter had ever been in, it was tiered like an upside-​down cake, with a dance floor in the center at the bottom and successive levels surrounding it, looking down. It had been designed to give maximum visibility to the royal family and whoever was lucky enough to receive an invitation to the bottom tier, and it certainly accomplished that task. To Winter, being there felt like being a lion on display in a menagerie.

Her arm through Cyte’s, she fixed the smile on her face as she came in, passing from the relative darkness of the corridor into a brilliant explosion of light. Candles were everywhere, glowing from mirrored sconces and shining in their hundreds from the glittering chandelier overhead. Every surface seemed to be either gilded or polished to a fine sheen, and reflections of the thousands of tiny lights danced and spun in every direction.

The candlelight also reflected from the attire of the guests, who were dressed in their finest. Soldiers from the Girls’ Own, now officially tasked with the security of the palace, stood at stiff attention in their dress uniforms, silver fittings gleaming bright. Winter felt her chest swell with pride at the sight of them, faces professionally blank, eyes alert.

As soon as they stepped out onto the floor, the hidden orchestra struck up a light, fast tune. Cyte spun in front of Winter, grinning devilishly, one hand extended.

“Now?” Winter said. “I don’t get to... you know, get my bearings first?”

“You can get your bearings later,” Cyte said. “When I need to catch my breath.”

Winter had confessed, at an early point in their relationship, that she didn’t know how to dance. It wasn’t a skill that she’d ever had occasion to learn, and frankly, she’d been at peace with that, but Cyte had immediately proclaimed it unacceptable. Tutors were procured and quite a few ankles kicked. Ultimately, Winter found the movements less alien than she’d worried they might be, and once she’d gotten over her fear of embarrassing herself in public, she’d actually rather come to enjoy it. Of course, I’ve never quite had the ability to embarrass myself in front of this many people.

Fortunately, Cyte didn’t give her a chance to overthink things. Her hands positioned Winter’s firmly at her waist and shoulder, and they were off, executing a step whose name Winter had forgotten but whose motions her feet thankfully recalled.