“It will be better for us not to funnel through one opening,” Murin argued. “Hell, it would be better if we just sent what draken remain and have them handle this.”
Reaver’s eyes narrowed, obviously not impressed by the statement. Neither was I.
“Winning the mortals’ trust won’t be easier if we take down their Rise,” I said, surprised that I even had to voice that. “Yes, it would be easier for us, but if we did that, then a larger portion of our army would need to remain to protect Oak Ambler from the Craven or anyone who seeks to exploit the failure of the Rise instead of blocking any western advancement.”
There were murmurs of understanding, but hot, acidic anger brimmed beneath Aylard’s surface and filled my throat. “I don’t think mortals—their trust or general welfare—should be our concern right now,” Aylard argued. “We need Oak Ambler. We need—”
“We need peace when this is finished.” I let a bit of the humming energy come to the surface as I fixed my stare on Aylard. The moment the tinge of silver filled the corners of my vision, he took a step back. “We may need many things, but we are not conquerors. We are not takers. We will use what power and influence we have to destroy the Blood Crown and free your King. We need to live side by side in peace with the people of Solis when this is finished. That will never happen if we prove what the Ascended have claimed about us to be true by leaving them defenseless and burning down their homes in the process.”
His pale cheeks flushed. “With all due respect, Your Highness, I fear that you remember too much of what it’s like to be mortal. You’re far more concerned about them than you are with securing the future and safety of your people.”
Delano’s lips peeled back in a low growl as the eather in my chest hummed, and I welcomed the essence, letting the power come to the surface as I stepped forward. Gasps echoed around me as silvery light edged the corners of my vision, followed by icy darts of shock. In the back of my mind, I realized this was the first time most of the generals had ever seen this.
Witnessed who I really was.
They knew, but seeing was…well, I imagined it was something else entirely. “Showing concern and empathy for the mortals doesn’t mean I have no concern for my people. Thinking of their futures means I’m thinking of our future, for they will be intertwined, whether wanted or not. It is the only successful path forward as we will not retreat beyond the Skotos Mountains. This war will be the last one.”
Energy charged the space inside the chamber. Aylard had stiffened, his golden eyes wide while Lizeth slowly lowered to one knee. She placed one hand over her heart, and the other flat against the floor.
“Meyaah Liessa,” she whispered, a slow smile spreading across her face.
They all followed, lowering before me—the generals, Hisa, my father-in-law, Naill, Emil, and the Contou siblings. Primal essence spilled into the space around me. Reaver’s strong, leathery wings unfurled, sweeping over the generals’ heads.
I stared down at Aylard. At all of them. “I was born with the flesh and fire of the Primal god in my blood. Make no mistake, with each passing day, I feel less like a mortal than I did the day before.”
The truth of my words entrenched deep in my bones. Into those empty, hollow places inside me. And each time those holes spread, I felt…colder and more detached, less mortal. And I had no idea if that would change or grow. If that was because of Casteel’s absence and everything there or something else. But at the moment, I truly didn’t care.
“I am not mortal. Neither am I Atlantian. I am a god,” I reminded them. “And I will not choose between the mortals and the Atlantians when I can choose both.” I pulled the eather back in, and it wasn’t easy. It seemed as if it had a mind of its own and wanted to lash out. To show all of them exactly how much I wasn’t mortal.
But a part of that was a lie.
The essence of the Primal wasn’t uncontrollable. It was an extension of me. What it wanted was a desire I had. It was what I wanted.
Left uneasy by that, I banked the power and closed off my senses. The silvery glow receded, and the air settled. Reaver tucked his wings back, close to his sides. “I imagine that is what a god would do, would they not? They would choose all.”
Lizeth nodded slowly. “I would think so.”
“Good.” I smoothed my hand over my tunic, feeling the toy horse in its pouch at my hip as I concentrated on the brand of the ring between my breasts. “I want your support because what we do at Oak Ambler will set the tone for what is to come. How we treat the mortals and the Ascended who agree to our demands will be spoken of in other cities. And heard. That will aid us, long after the war is finished. It will show that our intentions are good in case…”