“Nothing will happen.” I reached the top of the Rise and crossed the battlement, passing several shadowstone-tipped spears and arrows beside bows stacked against the wall as I made sure I stayed hidden behind the parapet’s solid wall.
“And that just ups the whole terrible, horrible idea part,” Saion commented as I picked up a bow and a full quiver.
“Just in case,” I told him, leaning against the shadowstone wall. I peered out the opening, finding Nyktos first without even trying to look for him. I suspected it was the ember that’d once belonged to him. It knew exactly where he was.
Which meant it was highly likely that he was aware of my presence, as well. And it was also probable that he would be really angry.
Deciding I’d deal with that later, I quietly pulled an arrow from the quiver.
Nyktos stood in the front, arms crossed and looking every inch a Primal—a bored one, at that, based on the bland set of his features. A dozen or so guards stood behind him, and I had no idea if they were mortal, godling, or god, but I spotted Ector standing with Rhain.
The ones who stood a few yards from Nyktos wore black balaclavas, leaving only their eyes visible. Sheaths of armor covered their bodies from their chests to their knees.
I squinted. “Is their armor made of…shadowstone?”
“It is.” Saion crouched behind the other parapet.
“A ripple of power was felt throughout all the Courts,” one of the Cimmerian warriors said. He stood in the front, hand resting on the hilt of a sword.
“Shit,” Saion growled. “That’s Dorcan. He’s really old,” he added when I glanced at him. “And not someone most want to cross on a battlefield.”
I didn’t know if I should be relieved or not to hear that the Cimmerian weren’t here for me.
“Hanan knows the dakkais followed an earlier trace of power to the Shadowlands,” Dorcan said.
“Is that so?” Nyktos replied.
“Are you suggesting that you were somehow unaware of the surge of power?” Dorcan asked.
“I haven’t suggested anything.”
There was a rough, quick laugh from behind the balaclava. “Is the goddess Bele here?” he asked, and I caught the slight movement of a Cimmerian behind him. One of the warriors had slipped a glove to the dagger strapped to their waist.
“Hell.” Saion had seen the movement, too. He quietly withdrew his sword. “If they start fighting, I will join them.”
I nodded, keeping my attention on the Cimmerian. There were a hundred warriors to our significantly outnumbered fighters. We had Nyktos, but if he couldn’t use eather—
Our fighters.
Our people.
My stomach twisted sharply, but my fingers remained steady on the arrow. “Why isn’t Nektas out here?”
“None of the draken will come unless they sense it’s necessary,” Saion explained.
“This isn’t necessary?”
“Not when their presence could escalate things.”
“And if you’re telling me that she’s not here, Hanan will discover your lie,” Dorcan continued from the road. “As will the King.”
“Is there any single part of me that looks like I give a fuck?” Nyktos replied, and I blew out a low breath.
I hoped Nektas was really close.
“You should.” Dorcan tilted his head back. “Especially since I’ve heard you’ve had a rough couple of days. Dakkais. Draken. And you’re about to take on a Consort.”
“Oh, shit,” Saion muttered, tensing.
The change in the air was sudden and tangible, charging with static. Both Ector’s and Rhain’s hands went to their swords. I doubted Dorcan was unaware as he said, “A piece of advice, old friend. I don’t think this is the time you want to further anger any of the Primals. All we want is to take Bele to Hanan’s Court.”
“Then shouldn’t Hanan be here?” Nyktos replied. “However, he’s likely too much of a coward to make such a request in person. That’s why he had you act as his errand boy instead. Either way, I’ll give you a piece of advice. It’s time for you to find a new Court to serve,” Nyktos said. “One where the rulers have the courage to make such demands themselves.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“If you made a blood oath to Hanan—swearing fidelity to him—then that was a very unwise choice,” Nyktos replied.
“Perhaps.” Dorcan tilted his head toward those standing behind Nyktos. “What I do know is that the bulk of your guards are too far down the Rise, and your armies are at the western border.”
“Armies?” I sent Saion a quick glance. “Nyktos has an army?”
Saion frowned at me. “Of course, he does.”
That was news to me.
“It would be wise of you to just give us Bele,” Dorcan said. “And then we’ll be on our way, without having caused any…disturbances.”
“You’ve already caused a disturbance.” The coldness in Nyktos’s voice sent a chill down my spine. “So whatever you think you’re going to do, get on with it. This whole scene is becoming a bore.”
Dorcan laughed again. “So be it.”
“How good are you with a bow?” Saion asked under his breath as the Cimmerian who had been getting handsy with the dagger at his waist twisted, angling his body toward Rhain. I didn’t hesitate.
I released the arrow, striking the Cimmerian between the eyes before he could let go of the dagger. “That good,” I murmured, ignoring the throbbing warmth of the embers of life in my chest as they responded to the god’s death.
Dorcan’s head swung in my direction, but I knew he couldn’t see me. I leaned back as the clash of swords echoed from the road below. I quickly nocked another arrow and moved farther into the parapet, peering down. My chest tensed.
I could only see Nyktos, taller than all the others in the swarm of Cimmerian, going sword to sword with Dorcan.
“Stay unseen,” Saion ordered, starting to rise. “If Nyktos is overpowered for some reason, get your ass inside and go to Bele and Aios. Charmed or not, you can still be killed.”
Nyktos overpowered? My throat dried. I’d seen him fight with a sword against Gyrms and dakkais. He’d ripped an entombed god in half with his bare hands. He couldn’t be overwhelmed.
“Do you understand?” Saion demanded.
“Yes.” I dropped to my knees behind the shorter wall, beside several shadowstone spears.
“You’d better. They don’t know what’s inside you. Who you really are. They’ll take your head back to Hanan on a spike,” Saion warned. Then, with that lovely imagery, he leapt off the Rise.
Assuming Saion had survived a jump that would’ve surely broken every bone in my body, I took aim at anyone wearing a balaclava. A head on a moving target was harder than a chest, so I waited even as my finger began to twitch, until one of the Cimmerian warriors turned toward a Shadowland guard, bracing himself. I fired, reaching for another arrow as warmth pulsed in my chest once more and stayed that way, responding to the deaths. Readying the arrow, I saw Rhain kick a Cimmerian back as he thrust his sword behind him.
Shadowstone was indestructible…
The shadowstone blade pierced the armor with a spark of stone against stone, embedding deep in the Cimmerian’s chest.
Apparently, shadowstone wasn’t impenetrable against itself. Good to know.
Rhain jerked the sword free and spun, arcing his blade across the neck of the one before him. The other had gone down, but he didn’t die immediately. He rolled onto his side, attempting to stand—
And then I saw it.
A black mist of night seeping out from the wounded Cimmerian. I fired, striking him in the back of the head. A cry of pain echoed from somewhere else, and my chest scorched my insides as I nocked another arrow. Dark shadows had gathered across the road, opaquer than even the Shades, spilling out from several of the Cimmerian.