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I should have killed Carex.
The magic had mutilated and twisted flesh and bone with abandon but stopped short of crushing his heart. Perhaps the king didn’t have one, or perhaps the magic knew something I did not, but nevertheless…I should have killed him.
One life for five thousand.
Oh gods,moreif you counted the Caladrian soldiers now reanimated and walking. An army almost ten thousand strong against…I risked a glance at Zorander, his pale face, the streak of dried blood on his face standing out in stark color.
Whomever was left protecting Solarys would not be enough.
Even if we crossed this border and found safety, we would not be safe for long. By tomorrow, that army would be marching to Solarys. Ember made the journey from Tempeste to Blackcastle in two days. If this force moved half as quickly, in four days they’d arrive at the Keep and this war would be over, just not in the way we’d envisioned it ending.
Was this what the Oracle had intended all along?
For us to fail? For the king to raise an army of unstoppable monsters and crush the Shadow King and Solarys beneath his boot?
She’d wanted chaos.
Cravedchaos, from that look in her eyes, and this…This would give rise to anarchy. One Soul Reaper had made a terrifying opponent. An entire army of them, the biggest force on this world, was marching toward Solarys. Toward us.
How did you fight that?
“The hounds. The mages.” Every word struck fresh terror in my heart. “Can those bodies be used by the Reapers as hosts? Would the mages keep their magic?”
“Who’s to say?” Raziel breathed. “Not much is known of those foul things. The mages and the hounds were flesh and blood and they haven’t been dead a day yet. But I know nothing of a Reaper’s ways, nor did I think that many still existed.”
“They feed on the souls of the living,” Zor pointed out, staring out into the distance, “not the dead. That’s why they’re calledSoulReapers.”
“True enough, but like Raz said, we know hardly anything about them. The Oracle claimed the Fae King had many of them at his command, but she also said they dwelled underneath the city, not at the top of the Citadelle.”
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the foul creatures spilling out of the cloud of smoke and the mindless fear of the soldiers charging away into the empty flatlands, even though there was nothing waiting for them except dust and death. Yet dying of thirst in a wasteland had been preferable to having a Soul Reaper devour everything that made you Fae.
“We’ll make for Deepwood.” Zor finally turned away from the flatlands.
“That’s three miles,” Raz said quietly.
“And we’ll be walking, since I’m out of magic.” Zor’s eyes shone with apology and regret when he looked down at me. “I know you’re tired, Anaria, but another hour and we’ll be under roof and safe enough. We’ll secure horses and ride for Blackcastle tomorrow. Warn the king. Maybe there’s some way to evacuate the city.”
“I can make it.” Perhaps a lie, but I would try.
Raz’s arm tightened around me, but his eyes were on Zorander. “Let’s get through the ward, then we’ll make plans for tomorrow.”
“Can that many Reapers get through the ward? I thought these were spelled against outsiders? I mean, I can see one or two creatures slipping through, but…an entire army?” I asked, hoping something protected these realms.
Otherwise, what good were the wards?
“Reapers are foul and evil, but they are old. They predate the walls and the wards, even the portals.” Zor’s brow furrowed.
“So yes, when the king decides it’s time, they will come. Whether in their human hosts, or born on the wind, and I have a bad feeling there will be no stopping them.”
35
ANARIA
We stumbled into Deepwood on the dredges of our strength, Raz holding me up, his steps as halting as mine. Zorander’s boots dragged with every step by the time we reached the town’s only lodging, a mix of tavern, brothel, and inn.
The low-ceilinged room smelled like cheap food and even cheaper sex, and given the noise level, I doubted we’d be doing much sleeping.
I’d tossed away my ruined slippers and was barefoot, and the back of my dress was sweat stained, if I could trust my dulled senses. Three miles replaying every second of what had happened in Tempeste had turned my brain to a fog of awful images that I didn’t want to remember yet kept playing over and over again.
