Iria chewed on her lip as she watched him. She appeared worried. Should Em have been worried about Aren?
Em turned away, focusing on the soldier in front of her. He shook as Em approached him, a bead of sweat running down the side of his face.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
The man pressed his lips together and looked at Olivia nervously.
“If you tell me why you’re here, I’ll let you go. You can go back and tell them what became of your friends. If you don’t talk, I’ll let Olivia remove all of your limbs.”
“Slowly.” Olivia grinned. “Honestly, I’m hoping you don’t talk.”
“We—we were ordered to attack the Ruined camp,” the soldier said.
“By who?”
“Jovita.”
“Why is Jovita giving orders? Did something happen to Casimir?” Em demanded.
“He …” The soldier stared hard at Em, like he was desperately trying to avoid Olivia’s wild gaze. “He went mad after the death of his parents and what you did to him. Jovita is filling in for him.”
Em reeled back. Cas didn’t go mad. Not the boy who had the presence of mind to escape the Lera castle unscathed. Not the boy who had managed to slip out of the warriors’ wagon and make his way to the jungle alone. She didn’t believe that he’d broken after surviving all that.
“And who told you that? Jovita?”
“And the advisers.” The soldier sounded defensive suddenly.
“And where is your supposedly mad king now?”
“Jovita locked him up for his own protection.”
Em pressed her hands to her forehead. With Jovita in charge, the Ruined were no longer safe. The pact she’d made with Cas meant nothing.
She looked over her shoulder at the bodies. “Is she out there? Did Jovita come with you?”
“She helped us into Ruina, but then she turned back. She’s returned to Lera by now.”
“How brave,” Olivia said dryly.
“Is Cas at the fortress?” Em asked.
The soldier hesitated, licking his lips.
“You probably need both legs to run, right?” Olivia said, pointing at them. “So you wouldn’t like it if I ripped one off right now?”
“Yes,” the soldier said quickly. “He’s at the fortress.”
“Good.” Em gestured at her sister, and Olivia stepped closer. Em leaned in, whispering in her ear. “Kill him. Quickly.”
Olivia whirled around, waving her finger in a circle. The soldier’s neck snapped. His body crumpled to the ground. Iria jumped.
Olivia gave Em an approving expression. “I thought you were going to let him go.”
“I was, but I couldn’t let Jovita know he’d told me all that. She’d expect our next move.”
“What’s that?”
Em hooked her sword to her belt. “I’m going to find Jovita. And kill her.”
ELEVEN
AREN COULD SENSE humans still in the area.
He could feel their heartbeats pulsing through his body. There was one down the hill who wasn’t quite dead yet, and his slow, unsteady heartbeat was like a drum thumping in the night.
Em, Olivia, and Iria were walking back his way, deep in conversation. Couldn’t Olivia hear that heartbeat?
“We’ve already been to the fortress,” Iria was saying. “You can’t storm back in without a plan.”
“We’ll make a plan,” Olivia said.
“We’re not going straight to the fortress,” Em said. “We invade Vallos. The warriors have conquered the land north of the fortress. We’ll take the south, and Jovita will be trapped. We’ll force her out.”
Olivia jumped excitedly. “Perfect. When do we leave?”
“You need reinforcements,” Iria said. “Let August send word to Olso that we need more warriors.”
Aren blinked at the dead bodies in front of them. Did they need more warriors? He and Olivia had killed all these people, with minimal help from the other Ruined.
“We would appreciate that,” Em said. “But I won’t wait for them to get here. They can meet us in Vallos.”
“I’m not sure that’s the best …” Iria’s words faded away as Aren started down the hill. Someone called his name. He ignored them.
He almost tripped over something, and a swell of panic rose in his body when he realized it was a head.
A torch on the ground was still lit, casting a glow over the carnage in the immediate area. He should turn back. He didn’t want to see.
But the thump-thump wouldn’t stop calling to him. It was louder than the voices calling to him, louder than the strong heartbeats of the warriors.
He stopped next to the man. Aren stared into his face because he couldn’t force himself to look at his mangled body.
Had he injured this one? He didn’t know. It had been too dark to see their faces. There were too many of them.
The man moaned. Aren wasn’t sure he was exactly conscious. Maybe. Maybe he was in pain.
The numbness left his body in a rush. He wanted it back as soon as it was gone. The boulder that had settled into his chest was almost too much to bear. Tears pricked his eyes.
Why was he crying? He didn’t cry for Lera soldiers who had just attacked him.
Solia, take his soul into your care and forgive him any—
The prayer crossed his mind unbidden, and he cut it off before he could finish. He didn’t pray for humans. He should have cursed his soul, not asked the ancestors to care for it.
He couldn’t bring himself to do it.
He snapped the man’s neck. The force of using his magic echoed through his body, and his shoulders slumped forward. It was the only kill tonight that had taken anything out of him. Olivia’s instruction was perfect.
Something touched his shoulder, and he whirled around, grabbing the offending hand. He was breathing hard—why?—and Iria jumped, trying to pull her hand away. He didn’t let go.
He could see her fear. He was usually perfectly happy to terrify people, but he didn’t like it from her. This girl who had risked her life to join him in the Lera castle, who had helped him in the jungle, she shouldn’t have been scared of him.
She pulled at her hand again and he released her. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“I was making sure everyone was dead.” His voice sounded calmer than he felt. “No surprises.”
She nodded, but her eyebrows crinkled together as she studied him. She could tell something was wrong. He quickly turned away.
“Aren! Come on!” Olivia yelled from behind him.
“I’ll be there in a minute!” he called without turning around. He stepped over a body.
A hand wrapped around his arm, pulling him to a stop. “I’m pretty sure they’re all dead, Aren. Come on.” Iria’s voice was soft, gentle, and he glanced over his shoulder at her. The flash of fear he’d seen was gone, replaced by something else. Understanding, maybe. Did she understand? He hadn’t said anything.
“I’m sorry you had to do this,” she said. Her fingers slid down to his hand and he jerked away. She pulled her arms into her chest, and he was tempted to grab her hand again and tell her he didn’t mind, he just hadn’t been expecting it.
“Do Ruined say a prayer after killing in battle?” she asked.