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“You are dismissed. Send out your scouts and remind them why we fight this war,” I commanded. They offered me closed-fisted salutes, then departed. The Parancsok who had volunteered his unit peeled off to prepare them for the skirmish they were to initiate in the early hours of morning.
Let the Angels come searching for their stolen soldiers afterward. Let them walk into the sharp teeth of the Demon camp. I’d savor the moment I got to remind the Zahal of who the fuck I was and why he should fear me.
Assyria slipped her hand into mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Do you really think this will work?” Yet despite the conviction in her tone, her palm held the barest shake.
“Yes,” I told her, but then I slid into her mind, to make a promise I wanted no one else to hear. “If this is what choosing your life looks like…then I’ll shape the fucking world to keep that choice intact. I’d do anything for you, little imposter.”
“Keep proving that, then,” she shot back, but the usual snark was tempered.
I glanced at Trol and Rapp for subtle confirmation of their belief. Both were steadfast. I certainly believed in her—she’d proven her strength time and time again. But belief didn’t win wars; if it did, the Angels would have slaughtered us from their fervency alone.
Power was what decided the victor. Magic, strength, leverage…it mattered not, so long as one possessed it.
And as Assyria looked up at me like I was everything she needed in this life, I pla