Queen of Blood and Vengeance (Secrets of the Faerie Crown #4)

25. Arran

25

ARRAN

Veyka could have brought us right into the middle of Cayltay. As much as I would have enjoyed the expressions of shock and watching Veyka put down anyone stupid enough to challenge her, it was tactically unsound. I wanted to know the disposition of the troops in the war camp on the other side of Wolf Bay before walking into the fortress. They were mine to command; had been for the better part of three hundred years, even before I’d been crowned High King of Annwyn. But I had not walked among them in months.

Veyka brought us to the foot of the mountains south of the Spine and we made the rest of the journey on foot. I could tell that it pained her to go so slowly, when she could have opened a portal rift with a flick of her wrist. But that was my other reservation.

She was spending more and more time in the void. A few months ago, I’d have been elated to see her embracing her power. But the carelessness with which she expended it nagged at me. She acted like a female with nothing left to lose.

Even with the possibility of the grail and the power of uniting the Sacred Trinity, I could tell that her belief had not shifted. Veyka still believed that the cost of banishing the succubus would be her life. The hope that I’d felt flare within her when Merlin spoke had dwindled. Or she’d snuffed it herself. Not willing to believe. To hope.

I could hope enough for the both of us.

After me, Cyara was the other person who loved Veyka the most. She was clever and observant and resourceful. If anyone could find the grail, it would be her.

But until Cyara returned, I had my own role to play. Securing the terrestrial troops, arming them with amorite, and holding off the succubus long enough to give Veyka a chance at life.

I’d do it all.

“Stop thinking so loudly,” Veyka said aloud, nudging an elbow into my side.

I did not retaliate. We were supposed to be laying still, spread flat on our bellies on the edge of a mountain looking down on the war camps below. Overhead, airborne terrestrial shifters soared through the air. If we moved too much, even the tree that I’d shifted to give us cover would not be enough to hide us.

Still, I cocked my head in her direction. If she’d truly been able to hear my thoughts, she would not be smiling that wicked smile of hers.

“Hear something you liked?”

Her smile deepened at the corners.

“Are they always like this?” Barkke said from Veyka’s other side.

“Yes,” Isolde and Lyrena said in unison.

“Inconsiderate,” Barkke muttered, shifting his midsection just enough to be awkward.

Except it made Veyka laugh. That alone kept me from tearing into him. My mate deserved every bit of laughter she could find.

We turned our eyes back down to the army, each of us making our own calculations. Isolde was surely marking out where the medical tents were; Lyrena probably wondering how many terrestrials she could take out with her fire power. But Veyka… I was tempted to slide along the bond between us and see if I could deduce where her mind had gone.

“I count twelve thousand,” Barkke said, revealing the direction of his own thoughts.

Veyka’s swallow was audible. “We don’t have enough amorite for every male in that army.”

“Not to pierce their ears or to arm them,” Barkke agreed.

That was what she weighed—the worth of their souls versus their killing strength. And I was about to make the calculation harder.

“There are twice as many,” I said, shifting closer to my mate until her rounded hip met the hard muscles of my thigh. “The arrangement is meant to be deceptive. There are more men in those tents than you realize. They move in and out rotations to obscure their numbers. And over that hill.” I nodded to the horizon. “Another three thousand are lodged in the sea caves along the eastern edge of the bay.”

“A lot of subterfuge within your own base camp,” Lyrena noted. She did not bother to conceal the admiration in her voice. She’d never commanded troops in battle, but I could feel the fire inside of her, the desire. The warrior’s need to test herself against yet another challenge.

“Most battles are won or lost before either side steps foot on the battlefield.” I’d set up this camp. I’d modified it over the decades, changing tactics and updating the layout. I’d made mistakes and learned from them.

Veyka cleared her throat softly. “And this one? If this army faced the succubus today? What would happen?”

My eyes swept over the army again, assessing battle readiness, weapons reserves, patrols—every tiny intricacy. It still wasn’t enough.

“We don’t know how the succubus organize, but the legacy of the Great War tells us they do eventually create a mass that can be faced in battle. Do you remember the carvings in the water gardens?”

I felt Veyka’s nod.

“The fae forces were depicted in organized formations, as you’d expect. What we believed to be humans—actually the succubus—were haphazard,” I explained. “Facing them will be different than any other foe I or anyone living has encountered.”

Lyrena shifted subtly on my other side. Isolde’s claws clicked together faintly. Barkke muttered a curse under his breath.

Veyka pulled her elbows under herself and turned away from the army camp below. To face me. “You did not answer my question.”

“I don’t know.” We’d made vows of truth between us. I would not break them now.

Veyka held my gaze, her blue eyes dull and flat. “Have you seen what you need?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go.”