Page 136 of Ashes of Honor
A ripple of uneasy chuckles moved through the circle of gathered soldiers, but they quickly died under Wilder’s glare. He stalked off, his shoulders rigid.
Silence fell over the camp, broken only by the crackling fire and the distant cries of the wounded. I looked around at the faces watching me—some weary, others wary.
The plan had worked. It had saved lives, turned the tide of battle. But the cracks in their confidence were visible. They weren’t just mourning their dead; they were mourning their belief that this fight could be won without great loss.
I exhaled slowly, the weight of my choices pressing into my chest. “If anyone else has a problem, say it now,” I said, my voice low and steady. “Otherwise, get some rest. We’ll need it.”
No one spoke.
The fire crackled on, indifferent to the weight of the silence. One by one, they drifted away, their faces shadowed withexhaustion and doubt. The battlefield was behind us, but its echoes lingered, carved into every strained step, every hollow stare.
Alexiares didn’t move from his spot behind me. A quiet presence that didn’t dare encroach on the weight pressing against my chest that was mine—and only mine—to bear.
This wasn’t guilt. It was something colder. Something that dug deeper, whispering truths I didn’t want to hear. Today was what the history books would claim a victory.
But victory wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It wasn’t supposed to taste like ash.
Thousands of soldiers were hoping I was strong enough to patch those cracks, to hold them together. But how long could I do that when the person I was trying to hold together was breaking apart? I forced my shoulders back.
There was no time for doubt.
“Go to bed,” I murmured. “I’ll be there soon.”
Alexiares finally stepped closer, his hand brushing against mine. I flicked it away—his comfort was something I did not deserve.
If this was what winning looked like, I didn’t want to think about what losing would cost.
Amaia
So this was it, I guess. The beginning to the end.
We’d followed the Mississippi south, keeping to the safe side of the river until we found ourselves across from what was once small town Kentucky. Hickman to be exact. According to the child who was leading the way,thiswas the weakest point—where we had our best shot at breaching Covert’s borders. Lilia’s family had crossed here, and if we had any luck left in the universe, it would remain an easy post to access.
Tomoe and Lola were opposite sides of the sameSeercoin. Their eyes flickered, one with pupils hazed with white, the other with nothing but black coal filling their sockets. It was nevera comfortable feeling being in Lola’s presence when you knew what she was capable of—that didn’t mean I didn’t admire the hell out of her. She was powerful and ruthless, but kind when it mattered.
Kind, not gentle. There was importance in the distinction.
They joined hands with Lilia, essentially astral projecting by power sharing—channeling Lilia’s gifts. It wasn’t something they did often during this journey. It was draining and dangerous. Lilia’s presence was their only anchor—without her, they would not be able to navigate breaking through the wards.
The room stood still as soldiers watched in fascination, the two women and small child at the center of it all. Power hummed beneath the surface of Lilia’s pale skin. She was the only one who could truly see Covert’s machinations for what they were. The wards didn’t touch her memory the way it had others. She held the knowledge—the places and paths—she was not replaceable though it made it no easier to involve someone her age.
“The wards are still intact,” Lilia murmured after a moment, her raven colored hair falling across her face, voice flat. “But it’s clear for now.”
Tomoe’s hands trembled from her power being absorbed. “The border hasn’t changed. We’re comparing it to them, and the connection of the mind of a young boy she met that resides nearby. It’s the same entry point as before—there are civilians within the vicinity.”
“Dios mío,” Lola murmured, her face neutral, though the uncertainty and shock hid beneath the surface. “My coven … I believe we can carve a path. We’ll need to channel through Lilia. Her gift gives us a clear way forward. With Sage’s assistance?—”
She paused, collecting her thoughts. “Sage’s power is intricate, delicate, not suited for brute force. She can see the structure of the wards—threads of memory and intent woven into the air itself. Her ability allows her to unravel a small part,just enough to carve a temporary safe passage. But only if we move carefully.”
Hunter went mute, nodding and though Lola could notseehim, she carried on, expression grave. “If no one strays from the set path, we can move through without triggering the memory wipe. It’s a tight window, Amaia. We’ll need to move quickly. Large groups.”
I clenched my jaw as I glanced at Lilia. She was only a kid. Kneeling before her, I caught her blank stare. “You don’t have to do this.”
The words felt sour. Could I truly offer her an out? It would damn a hell of a lot of people all for the sake of one. Lola and Tomoe released their grip on her, coming out of whatever dream-like world they’d walked.
Lilia shook her head fiercely, eyes coming back into focus. “I’m the only one who can. If I don’t, you’ll all forget. You’ll—” She swallowed at the sharp look from Lola. Slowly, she forced herself to meet my gaze. “I can do it.”
I studied her for a long moment, before nodding. It was her choice. Her decision.But she’s just a child, that small voice screamed at me from the back of my head. I couldn’t help but think it sounded a hell of a lot like Jax.
