She felt exposed.
Hazael on one side, Akiva on the other; they had always been her barriers. In battle, of course. They had trained
together from the age of five. At their best, theyd fought like a single body with six arms, a mind shared, and no ones back ever open to an enemy. But it wasnt only in battle, she knew now, that shed used them for shelter like walls to stand between. It was in moments like this, too. With Hazael gone and Akiva in a world of his own, she felt the wind from all sides, as if it could buffet her apart.
She wouldnt ask for company. She shouldnt have to ask, and it hurt her that Akiva clearly didnt need what she needed. To shut himself away with his own grief and misery, and leave her out here?
She didnt knock on his door, but squared her shoulders and walked on. She didnt know where she was going, and she didnt particularly care. It was all filler, anywayevery second up until the one when she held her sword to her uncles heart and slowly, slowly pushed it in.
Nothing would stop that from happening, not humans and their weapons, not Karous frantic concerns, not pleas for peace.
Not anything.
Akiva wasnt grieving. The images that haunted himhis brothers body, Karou laughing with the Wolfhad been locked away. His eyes were closed, his face as smooth as dreamless sleep, but he wasnt sleeping. Nor was he exactly awake. He was in a place he had found years earlier, after Bullfinch, while he recovered from the injury that should have killed him. Though he hadnt died, and had even recovered full use of his arm, the wound to his shoulder had never stopped hurting, not for a second, and this was where he was now.
He was inside the pain, in the place where he worked magic.
Not sirithar . That was something else entirely. Any magic that he had made on purpose, he had madeor perhaps found here. In the beginning it had felt like passing through a trapdoor down into dark levels of his own mind, but as time went on, as he grew stronger and pushed deeper, the sense of space was ever-expanding, and he began to awaken afterward vague and off-balance, as though he had come back from somewhere very far away.
Did he make magic or did he find it? Was he within himself or without? He didnt know. He didnt know anything. With no training, Akiva went on instinct and hope, and tonight, minute by minute he questioned both.
In the middle of the war council, the idea had come to him in a sudden flare that felt like revelation. It was the hamsas.
He wasnt delusional about the likelihood of the two armies achieving accord anytime soon. Hed known this would be fraught, but he also knew that the best use of their collective strength was in a true alliance, not just a détente. Integration. However they hit the Dominionin mixed battalions or segregatedthey would be outnumbered. But Liraz had been right: Hamsas in every unit would weaken the enemy and help balance the scales. It could mean the difference between victory and defeat.
But he couldnt very well expect his brothers and sisters to trust the chimaera, especially considering their poor beginning. The hamsas were a weapon against which they had no defense.
But what if they did have a defense?
This was Akivas idea. What if he could work a counterspell to protect the Misbegotten from the marks? He didnt know if he couldor even if he should . If he succeeded, would it cause more strife than it resolved? The chimaera wouldnt be pleased to lose their advantage.
And Karou?
Heres where Akiva lost perspective. How could you tell if your instincts were just hope in disguise, and if your hope was really desperation parading as possibility? Because if he succeeded, along with the chance for a true alliance between their armies came another, more personal one.
Karou would be able to touch him. Her hands, full against his flesh, without agony. He didnt know if she wanted to touch him, or ever would again, but the chance would be there, just in case.
Seraphim and chimaera had both posted guards at the mouth of the passage that joined the village and the grand cavern, with the intention of keeping the soldiers apart. There was a sense of lurking and skulking, the possibility of enemies around every corner. It was impossible to relax. Most on both sides felt trapped by the rough ceilings and windowless walls of this place, the skylessness, the impossibility of escapeespecially for the chimaera, knowing that the Misbegotten were encamped between themselves and the exit.
They rested and ate and salvaged what weapons they could from Kirin arsenals long ago looted by slavers. Aegir melted down pots and tools to make blades, and his hammering joined the noises of the mountain. Some soldiers were put to work refletching old arrows,
but there wasnt activity to occupy the bulk of the host, and their idleness was dangerous. No open aggression flared, but the angels, angry that no beast had been punished for oath-breaking, claimed they felt the sickness of hamsas pulsing through the walls at them.