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I held up my hand, stopping them. “Our days of empire are over. Let us return to the old ways. When we ruled as kings of the mountains.”
Herrath smiled beside me, a small thing lifting the corner of his mouth. “King Theron!”
The soldiers echoed his cry, and a pulse of pride went through me. This was more than winning a battle. I was responsible for more now. For a people. A country. A world.
“Let us begin.”
As I stepped away from the podium and returned to Herrath’s side, I scanned the courtyard once more for Kael and Zerek, but they were nowhere in sight. My gaze caught on Raenisa, her irritation written clearly across her face as she approached me with Teodosija at her side.
Teodosija’s voice was edged with concern. “Gathering your soldiers like this is making the rebels anxious,” she said, her eyes flicking over to the assembled elves.
Herrath snorted. “If they’re nervous just by us standing here, we have a long way to go before we can call this an alliance.”
“It was necessary,” I interjected, my tone firm. “I had to address my soldiers, make them understand my objectives. If I hadn’t, they would have revolted and your people would have been in real danger.”
Revolt was a genuine possibility. Even now, I couldn’t help but wonder if rebels should man the walls when the Niothe arrived. They wouldn’t throw open the gates and welcome the invaders; I wasn’t as sure that my troops wouldn’t.
Teodosija’s heated voice interrupted my thoughts as she argued about moving the rebel encampment. The tension in her words pulled me back to the present.
“Listen,” I said. “If the rebels don’t want to be housed in the inner city, there’s more than enough room in the ballroom.”
Teodosija scoffed, her arms crossed over her chest. “You really expect us to accept that?”
“You can’t have it both ways,” I retorted, my frustration mounting. “We can’t keep your people both separate and within the palace grounds. It’s one or the other.”
I paused, trying to steady myself. We were on the same side; I needed to remember that. “I’m willing to work with you, Teodosija,” I replied quietly. “You can have Varzorn’s suite for all I care. But we need to get on the same page, and we better do it fast, or we’re all going to die.” Defiance filled her eyes, and I continued. “I know these soldiers may look formidable to you,” I continued, nodding toward the assembled guards, “but they’re nothing compared to the might of the Niothe. We’ll need everything to survive the onslaught.”
Teodosija looked at the soldiers again, her brow furrowed in thought, calculations running through her mind. We were allies, whether we liked it or not, bound by circumstance and a shared enemy. But would that be enough?
Walking over to the rebels, I watched their training with a critical eye. They were warriors, yes, but they fought with brute strength, relying on their relentlessness to tire out their enemy. I thought back to run-ins I’d had with rebels throughout the years. They were always most effective in an ambush. Prolonged battles weren’t their strong suit. None of the men were attempting to conserve their strength or tire out their opponent. A flash of understanding hit me. They aren’t sparring like soldiers because they were used to fighting to survive. They had to give everything in a fight because they usually only had one chance.
“Stop,” I called out, my voice cutting through the clash of swords and the grunts of exertion.
The rebels halted and turned their attention to me, a mixture of hate and skepticism in their eyes.
“You can’t fight like that,” I pointed out. “You’re not as strong as Elves. Relying on brute force will get you killed. Be clever. Use your wits.”
A voice from the crowd called out, malice tinging his words. “Clever like the explosion that almost took you out?”
Anger rose within me, my fists clenching at the reminder. Losing Vaernix was still fresh enough that I took a step forward, ready to kill the smirking rebel. But I forced it down, recognizing an opportunity.
I stepped into the ring, pointing at the Remnant who’d spoken. “You. Come here.”
The man stood to his full height; a hulking, muscular figure with auburn hair and beard, his defiant eyes a strange hazel color that contained all the shades of a forest. A Zerkir Remnant. There weren’t many of his kind in Adraedor. Their strongholds across the Othar Ocean were proving difficult to dismantle… He’d be prideful and stronger than the others.
I raised my sword, feeling the cool weight of it in my hand before handing him one of the blades leaning against the ropes. “Let’s spar.”
We clashed, his weapon striking mine with a metallic ring. But I was stronger, faster. I danced around him, the sand beneath my feet giving way with each step. He swung again, but I parried easily, my movements fluid and measured as I smacked him with the flat of my blade.
“Strength isn’t enough,” I called, goading him. “And your anger can’t save you.”
He roared, charging at me, letting his temper rule him. With a swift move, I stepped aside and disarmed him, the sound of his sword clattering against the ground ringing through the air. I held my blade at his throat, the point touching his skin.
I met his strange gaze, not looking away even though the others’ eyes bored into my back. “Humans once killed a goddess on their own,” I stated, lowering my sword. “They didn’t use brute force or anger. They used their minds and found a solution that worked with their strengths.” I turned to the man and picked up his sword, handing it back to him. A grudging respect entered his eyes. “We don’t have the numbers, so we’ll need to focus on finding our strengths and using them.”
The rebels shifted, anger warring with their desire for freedom. To win. It wasn’t lost on me that I was teaching them how to kill my kind. But desperation makes strange bedfellows.
I looked at the man again. “Your rage can be an asset, but you have to channel it. Use it to fuel your strategy, not blind you to it.”
