Now he’s just…dead.
That part didn’t seem entirely real to her. There could be no redemption for her former friend. Certainly, he’d chosen his side and made it clear that he didn’t care about those he’d left behind. Only bitterness lurked in his heart at the end, and now…nothing. Historians never wrote about this aspect of war—about how sometimes all choices felt wrong and even afterward the dying stopped, there was no glory, just finality. Grimly, Ro shuttered those thoughts. There would be time for sorrow and grief later, once they finished this fight.
After the break, they marched on Vega Rising. The streets were mostly deserted; civilians preferred not to face the wrath of the resistance, it seemed, and the tyrant’s forces were occupied keeping Prince Alastor at bay. Or so Rowena thought—until she shifted and took wing. Elation surged through her as she registered the scene. Three tiers up, the last of Tycho’s forces faced the collective might of Prince Alastor’s army. Even before the resistance joined the battle, the hated despot was outnumbered and beyond all hope. With the sharp eyes of a predatory bird, she recognized Prince Alastor, Dedrick, and Dr. Halek, accompanied by several Elites she couldn’t identify. Close at hand, stood one of the tyrant’s most competent officers, a scarred and massive warrior named Chadri. Rowena had encountered the woman more than once when the despot summoned her for his twisted games. But Chadri must have sworn to Alastor when so many changed loyalties outside Hallowell.
Ro circled overhead, once, twice, confirming what she’d witnessed, then she looped back, landing lightly at the head of the procession. Slay had her clothes, but she didn’t bother getting dressed, relaying the information with breathless excitement. Word spread quickly among the ranks, whispers given ear to ear, and a ragged cheer went up from the exhausted resistance fighters. If Rowena was this relieved, she could only imagine how the others felt. They’d been in captivity much longer, had less strength in reserve, so many probably had been marching on fury and determination alone.
Chantisse closed her eyes briefly, whispering a nearly inaudible litany of thanks. “I feared we’d do this alone, but the exiled prince kept his promise. How unlike a Vega.”
“He’s nothing like his brother,” Rowena said.
With a nod of acknowledgement, Chantisse raised her voice. “Gather your resolve and let’s move. The tyrant dies today!”
The tyrant dies today! That sentence became a marching song, energizing everyone. Their footfalls on stone rang out boldly, keeping cadence to the chant. Rowena got dressed quickly and joined the army toward the rear, moving with Kani and Nolen. Slay stayed close, guarding their backs in jaguar form. She didn’t think there were any enemy forces left on this side of the city, but better to be safe than sorry.
The tiers were empty as they marched, desolate as the frozen plains Ro had passed through from Ash Valley to Hallowell. There was no snow here, but her heart thundered in her chest, as each step drew her closer to the final confrontation with her greatest enemy. She walked instead of flew to conserve her energy; if it became necessary, she should have reserves left to shift once more and she planned to make it count.
There were no bells up here, marking time, so Ro had no idea how long it took for them to reach Vega Rising. Outside the palace, the once-pristine piazza outside swarmed with allied forces, and she smiled when Dedrick shouted her name. The big bodyguard shoved through the crowd to get to her with Prince Alastor close behind. They both hugged her without thinking, and she tried not to recoil. But the jaguar standing at her thigh snarled and swiped with a claw, making the other two dart backward.
“You’ve acquired a companion,” Prince Alastor observed with a wry smile. “Not a friendly one, it seems.”
Though she was beyond overjoyed to see her old friends again, she still didn’t enjoy being touched by anyone but Slay. In his usual fashion, he saved her from having to articulate that reluctance. Instead, she ran a hand down the black jaguar’s back. “He’s protective. We’ve been through a lot together.”
Prince Alastor closed his eyes briefly. “I should imagine. I’m so relieved to find you whole. I wanted to—”
“I know,” she cut in. “But I’m pleased more prudent voices prevailed.”
Dedrick grinned. “Let me tell you, it wasn’t easy getting him to see sense. We all took turns sitting on him and promising him we’d set you free as soon as possible.”
“But you didn’t need rescuing at all,” Prince Alastor said. “Instead, it seems you’re leading an army of your own. When all of this is over, I’ll be fascinated to hear all the details, but for now…” He cast a speaking glance at Chantisse and Hettie, standing just beyond her shoulder, waiting for introductions.
“Understood. This is Chantisse, leader of the resistance. Hettie is her second. Slay and I have been acting as field officers.”
“Is that the missing lieutenant from Ash Valley?” For the first time, Prince Alastor demonstrated true astonishment, both brows shooting up.
Dr. Halek joined the group in time to hear the pronouncement and she crouched before the black jaguar, dark eyes softening. “So many people have been searching for you. Did you know Mags went all the way to Kelnora and back, following your trail through Eldritch lands? She never gave up searching, never relinquished hope that we’d find you.”
The big cat rubbed against Dr. Halek, letting out a low cry. He must be so happy to hear that. Tender sadness pierced Ro’s chest at the reminder that Slay had a home to return to and people who cherished him. He probably won’t stay when all this is over. The price seemed quite steep when she considered it properly.
I’ll gain my freedom and lose my love.
Slay should probably shift.
He knew that, but he couldn’t make himself do it. Sheyla Halek was the first familiar face he’d seen in gods knew how long, but he’d been living in this bubble, almost. Before and after. Though it should have, it never occurred to him that his new life would eventually cross paths with the old one. Hell, Sheyla would probably expect him to fucking go back to Ash Valley as soon they wrapped up in Golgerra and—
He didn’t know if he wanted to. Sure, there were obligations waiting for him and old memories, but most of it seemed like it had happened to someone else. And in all honesty, he didn’t like the person he’d been in Ash Valley. Didn’t like looking back on how he’d treated Pru. Yeah, he had excuses, rationalizations about not wanting to hurt his mom, but mostly his behavior added up to failure, failure and cowardice.
I don’t want to be that guy anymore.
Here, he’d fought for a cause with his whole heart, done something that mattered. So he didn’t shift. Anything he said as a cat, Sheyla would understand, even if nobody else did, but he didn’t volunteer any words. She let him be. Maybe she thought he was traumatized from living as a prisoner, the way Eamon had been, but most of Slay’s damage was self-inflicted.
Just then, Prince Alastor accepted a voice amplifier from one of his men. His words rang out, probably audible all over Golgerra. “It’s time to finish this, brother. There is no bolthole left for you. I’ve posted guards loyal to me at all potential exits. Face my challenge now, or your handful of loyal Elite will turn on you, rightfully naming you the craven you are, the craven you have always been.”