Sapphire Falls (The Lost Realm #2)

53. Chapter 52

Chapter 52

Rylo

T he view out Rylo’s balcony chilled his essence to ice. Maglar’s troops had crested the southern mountain range separating his nation from the Wastewaters and ensconced themselves near the Tower of Stars.

It had been a week.

A week since Morgan and Susan returned with hopes of an alliance between Latiah and Nephel.

A week since he’d been certain he had an alliance on its way.

And yet, there had been no word. Selene still hadn’t returned from abandoning her post in the name of her young soulmate.Her desertion could very well cause the Towers to fall in a single day. He could possibly succeed in holding off the waves of warriors with Selene, but he was a lost cause without her, even with the two witches and the deep magic on his side. They were both untested in battle, and after Morgan shared how the deep magic had ripped through them, causing her to burn out with startling speed, Rylo was hesitant to allow her to use deep magic for his sake.

Rylo turned and looked at the empty space where Morgan had been. She’d come to him last night, and despite the hurt she’d caused him, he couldn’t regret spending what could be his last night with her in his arms. His need for her was like his need for the sun. Life wasn’t worth surviving without her in it. He only wished he hadn’t waited so long to have her. At least he had one night. That would have to be enough.

The beat of the drums was incessant. A constant pulsing in Rylo’s ears as he prepared to meet Maglar and Mara. He would follow the protocol of war—a cordial meeting before blood was shed.

As he prepared to fly to his generals he heard a knock on his door.

“Come in,” he called. Morgan and Susan walked into the room, both dressed in Latian leathers.

“What an interesting choice in clothing today,” Rylo drawled, examining every curve the leathers accentuated on Morgan’s body. If only there were some odds that would result in him surviving the day. He’d peel the leather from her, revealing the alabaster glow of her skin.

“Avery made sure we had some protection before we left Latiah.” She pointed to a dagger at her side. From the gleam of its metal, Rylo knew it was iron. “I should have spent more time learning how to use these.”

Rylo shook his head. “You don’t need them.”

She let out a sad sigh. “My magic. Right.”

He didn’t know if she thought of how her magic could cause such devastation with just a few words. How she could rip the essence right out of a fae and leave them devastated in her wake. He’d known she had the potential to be powerful, that was why he chose to make her his, and yet, he didn’t know it would cost him so much.

“We’ve come to join you, King Rylo,” Susan said, her voice shaking as she finally spoke up. “We may be the only thing to stop the witches if Goldoth brought them to battle.”

The thought of Morgan fighting in this battle, even knowing her magical potential, left his skin clammy and his heart thumping in his chest. But he didn’t have a choice. That’s what she was here for, and he couldn’t abandon his folk to protect her now. Even if all his heart demanded him to do was wrap his arms around her and flee to some far flung cave in the mountains.

“Yes, of course.” His mouth felt too dry as Morgan moved closer to him. She reached out her hand to his and squeezed it.

“We can do this. Even without Latiah. Right? We’ll make it,” she said, her voice shaking.

He forced out a clipped nod. “We best meet Maglar and Mara.” He turned and looked at Susan, still twining Morgan’s hand in his. “I will have you stay near one of my generals during the talks.” He turned back to Morgan, and couldn’t stop himself from cupping her face in his hands, his thumbs rubbing the scars on her cheeks. “I want you beside me the entire time. I need to be able to fly with you if we need to fall back.”

Her face had a determination about it that he always admired in her, yet her hands shook as she grasped his forearms. “I won’t leave you. I’ll never leave you, Rylo.”

Rylo pressed his lips to hers, needing to feel her against him one last time before they faced the battle.

—-

Morgan

Rylo wrapped his arms around Morgan, lifting her close to his chest as he flew her out of his balcony and toward the far side of the river.

“Talk to me. Please,” she said, her words catching in her dry throat. The cold mist seemed to cling to her face, her hair, anything that it touched.

Rylo didn’t try to give her a false sense of security. He was direct, without twisting his words into half truths. “We’ll meet with Mara and Maglar. They will provide their grievances, and we will share ours. I don’t have much to go on, since I attacked the rulers of Goldoth and you stole their relic.”

Morgan tried to hide her chattering teeth. Whether it was from the biting cold of the mist, or her fear, she wasn’t sure. “Then what?”

“Most likely we won’t reach any sort of agreement. We’ll return to the Towers and prepare the warriors for battle.”

Overhead and behind them, other Nepheli warriors followed close, including a general with Susan in his arms.

Morgan let her head rest against Rylo’s collarbone, his hard armor kept her head at an odd angle. “It’s all very organized for a battle.”

“It’s the way of things, at least at the beginning of the war. Or should be.”

They began their descent toward a black tent placed just uphill from the Tower of Stars. Even from far away, the bald woman wearing a crown shone in the weak morning light. Like a diamond in the sun, her exposed head glittered. “Mara waits for us,” Rylo said.

Maglar came out of the tent, hate in his gaze as he locked eyes with Morgan. It sent a chill down her spine. “Maglar looks ready to flay me alive,” Morgan whispered.

“Don’t say such a thing, pet. Not today,” Rylo muttered against her ear.

Rylo circled overhead before landing next to his warriors. Even on the ground, his wings were wrapped close to her, his hand kept a vise-like grip on her waist.

Rylo’s voice was chillingly calm as he said, “So it’s come to this, Maglar? You chose to bring war to my own doorstep.”

“We only seek justice for the insolence of the Nepheli king and his witch,” Maglar spat as he pointed at Morgan, his hate-filled eyes boring into her. “That witch stole something sacred from us and killed or maimed hundreds of our slaves. King Rylo, your attack was unprovoked. We are well within our rights to demand justice for the insult brought upon our folk.”

Morgan caught a flicker of something in Rylo’s eyes as he said, “What is the cost you demand to prevent war between our nations?”

Mara smiled a bitter smile. “We want the witches. We know you harbor two witches, and demand them in exchange for peace between our nations, as well as our restored relic and any other relics the witches wield. We also want the witch’s sister. The one in Latiah.”

Rylo’s typically indolent mask was gone, and his face was glowing in a harsh light. “That is not an option. King Savine will never willingly part with his soulmate, and I have already shared my personal attachment to my witch. Dare take her from me again, and my previous attack will pale in comparison to what I promise to do to you.”

A chilling laugh escaped Maglar. “Then so be it.”

Two tiny, thin women were pushed forward by fae guards. They wore nothing but thin rags, their pale skin and bare feet exposed to the cold. Both women squinted their unnaturally large eyes, so large they didn’t seem to fit their faces. One walked with her head low while the other thrashed and screamed like a beast on her chains.

Rylo’s wings stretched out, ready to take flight, but he didn’t. Instead, he whispered in Morgan’s ear, “They’re here. These are the witches.”

“Unleash the slaves,” Mara said to the fae holding the two women’s chains. The more subdued one didn’t move as the collar around her neck fell to the floor. Morgan could feel a power stirring around them that made her want to run and hide, to flee from the terror that was this tiny creature. The other sister grabbed onto the warrior at the end of her chains, thrashing as he tried to remove her collar. Once the collar was off, she grabbed onto his arm and sunk her teeth into him. The man screamed as he attacked her with his essence.

“Don’t harm her!” Mara hissed at the warrior. He stopped fighting the woman, even as she wrapped her hands around the man and squeezed, power penetrating her being and forcing itself into the man. He collapsed in a heap, his essence and his blood draining onto the wet ground.

“This is not how war talks are conducted!” a Nepheli warrior shouted.

“When one is attacked in their own home, war talks mean nothing,” Maglar spat out.

The little creature turned from her kill, her enormous eyes meeting Morgan’s before they rolled back in her head, becoming a hauntingly milky white. Another warrior walked forward, but there was something very wrong with how he moved. His gait was choppy, lacking that natural fae grace. Morgan gasped as the man looked at them. His rotting flesh clung to sinew and bone. The hollows where his eyes should be stared at her. The tattered grey feathers lay limp behind him.

“Elio!” Rylo shouted. His voice was filled with such pain, such grief it shook through Morgan like a laceration.

“I will not have humans ruling my northern borders! They are nothing more than slaves and by the end of this, you shall beg me to take them from you!” Maglar bellowed.

Rylo didn’t hesitate to spread his wings, taking flight toward the river. His grip on her was so tight it would bruise, but Morgan didn’t care. She looked over his shoulder far enough to see the other Nepheli warriors take flight, sending out their essence in a steady attack against the undead fae.

But it made no difference. Elio snapped his neck, looking at Morgan as wings exploded out from behind him and he took flight toward Rylo and Morgan.