Lucian could feel Mirror Two’s sigh like a gathering storm. The air between them grew heavy. It did little to calm the tempest already raging within Lucian. He was doing his best to keep it leashed—to protect the citadel survivors from the backlash—but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last.
“How is our daughter, by the way?”
“Stop talking. Now.”
“Or what? You going to strike me, Guardian? And how would that look?”
“Ask me if I care,” Lucian hissed, staring straight ahead.
“We must keep up appearances, dear Lucian. You know how important it is, especially in times of crisis.”
Lucian ground his teeth so hard, he could swear the other man heard it. He had more important things to do than worry about standing on ceremony.
“That’s what you’re for.”
“You cannot forget your role in all of this. After all—”
“I am perfectly aware of my role.”
These games he was forced to play grated. Yes, they served a purpose, perhaps even an important one, but any possible benefit to such games paled in comparison to what he would lose if he failed in his current mission.
Nothing else mattered. Nothing.
He had to find a way to save Effie.
“Are you? When was the last time—”
“Shut. Up.”
The air grew thick once more, and it was difficult to draw a breath.
“You are not the only one who resents the weight of the chains that bind you.”
The mention of chains brought Effie to mind, and Lucian’s hand spasmed around the hilt of his sword. He didn’t recall reaching for it.
“Do not forget your vow, Guardian.”
“I’ve forgotten nothing.”
“See that it stays that way.”
Lucian glowered at Mirror Two’s back as he picked up the pace and moved ahead to torment some other unsuspecting soul. He may have gotten the last word, but it didn’t matter. Lucian had made three formal vows in his lifetime. The first when he became a Guardian. The second when he took his post in Elysia. And the third only days earlier.
Of the three, only the last one meant anything.
“How long are those assholes going to make us wait?” Ronan asked, not for the first time as he took another bite of his meal.
“Don’t you remember what happens when you enter someone else’s land without invitation?” Reyna chided lightly.
Ronan’s lips tipped up. “Hard to forget the day I met you.”
Kael gave the pair an amused grin before answering Ronan’s question. “They will make us wait as long as they want. The secrets of the Vale are almost as closely guarded as those of the citadel.”
“You say this Council must decide whether or not they’ll take us in?”
Kael dipped his chin in a nod. “The Valen Council.”
“We’re hardly a threat in this condition. What’s the holdup?”
“Speak for yourself,” Kael said.
“Is it a requirement of the Guardians for your arrogance to know no bounds?” Ronan asked, biting off the last of the meat on his skewer.
“Enough,” Lucian said, interrupting the verbal pissing match before it could go any further. “This is their land. It will take as long as it takes.”
“Don’t those hooded bastards have any sway?” Ronan asked, craning his neck around as he searched for a sign of the Triumvirate.
“Where do you think they are right now?” Kael asked.
Lucian shot Kael a pointed glare. Kael ignored it, his smile stretching wider.
“They’ve been gone since we got here. Doesn’t seem to be doing any good,” Ronan muttered before reaching for his canteen.
Lucian lifted a brow. “We’re still alive, aren’t we?”
Ronan grunted. “Seems to me that a request from the trio should have expedited the process.”
“Who said it didn’t?” Kael asked.
“The point of the matter is this, regardless of where the Triumvirate have run off to, or what they’re up to, these people aren’t going to survive out here much longer. We’ve barely enough food to last us another three days, and that’s already cutting back our daily rations. They deserve a safe place to rest and come to terms with all that they’ve lost. We all do.”
Lucian stared past Ronan, the Shield’s words sinking their hooks in deep. He wasn’t wrong. Looking around, Lucian eyed what was left of the travel-weary Keepers and their townsfolk. He spotted Desda offering what was left of her dinner to a man who’d lost his wife and daughter in the attack. These people needed a safe place. Somewhere they could start to rebuild what was left of their lives.
“If we do not hear anything by morning, I will go myself,” Lucian declared.
Ronan gave him a nod of thanks.
Before Lucian could resume his own meal, a piercing scream shattered the night. His eyes fell closed, dread pooling in his stomach. He knew without looking what the cause of that terror-filled cry must be.
Effie.
Shooting to his feet, Lucian started running toward the wagon. Please don’t let her hurt anyone. If she survived, that was a blow she would not recover from easily. Casualties during war was one thing. The mindless slaughter of innocents was another entirely.
Before he made it far, Lucian realized the crowd was running in the other direction, away from the supply cart. Never had he been happier or more relieved to be wrong. But if Effie wasn’t the one causing the screams . . .
He didn’t have a chance to finish the thought before more terrified shouting filled the camp.
“Attack!”
“They’ve found us!”
Some of the survivors drew their weapons, while others began dropping to their knees, prayers on their lips.
Lucian wasn’t immune to fear, although it was rare for something to dig in deep enough to cause it. The possibility of another Shadow attack now, just when they were on the verge of finding a small measure of peace, was such a time.
He scanned the area around the camp, blood surging through him as he prepared for battle. As his heart thundered, his brows began to vee with confusion. There was no way for the Shadows to sneak up on them here. The desert was flat as far as the eye could see—broken up with small sand dunes here and there—but none tall or wide enough to conceal a body, let alone several. A surprise attack would have been all but impossible.
Completing his circle, Lucian found the source of the distress. Five figures dressed in shades of twilight stood on the edge of their camp.
The people of the Vale had finally arrived.
But where did they come from?
After the war that destroyed their city, the people of the Vale saw fit to let the rest of the realm believe them dead. They took to the earth, rebuilding their city beneath the ground. To say they were wary of visitors was like saying Effie was merely suffering through a summer cold.
After three scorching days, and two near-freezing nights, the Keepers were finally deemed safe. Or safe enough, Lucian mentally amended as he sheathed his weapon and strode through the gathered throng to join Kael.
“You were saying?” Kael muttered to Ronan as Lucian reached them.
Coming to a halt, Lucian found the answer to his question. The people of the Vale hadn’t approached them from the desert. They’d risen from the ground. Just behind the five figures, the entrance to their underground city glowed with soft light.