City of Spells (Into the Crooked Place #2) - Alexandra Christo Page 0,116
to deal with you two again.”
Tavia touched a hand to her chest.”You’re saying you won’t miss us? After all the training sessions and late-night bonding?”
“Late night,” Wesley repeated, his eyebrows raised. “How late exactly?”
Tavia wrinkled her nose, just as Karam stepped forward and held out her hand for her childhood friend.
Arjun sheathed his sword and threaded his fingers through hers.
“Are you okay?” he asked her.
She nodded. “Asees is avenged,” she said. “We have gotten justice for them all.”
Everyone in Arjun’s Kin who had been killed or manipulated by the Kingpin.
Everyone in the realms who had died so Ashwood could have more power.
They couldn’t undo it, but maybe they could make the pain a little easier to swallow.
“She would be proud,” Arjun said.
He gripped his hands tighter around Karam’s and then pulled her into a hug. Tavia couldn’t help but notice that Karam was hugging Arjun far more nicely than she’d hugged her. She saw Karam’s back lift in a sigh of relief as she clung to her friend and let go of all the worry about possibly having lost anyone else.
They were all safe.
“So now what?” Tavia asked.
“We discuss what happens next,” Wesley said, looking at the Doyen.
He was already adjusting his suit sleeves and was attempting to make himself look more imposing than his disheveled presence allowed. He took in a breath, like he was preparing himself to either throw a punch or take one.
“Our deal is still on, I assume?”
“There is a lot to discuss,” Schulze said.
Tavia shoved her hands into her pockets.
She knew that meant they would have to go to Yejlath, and she hated Yejlath. It was so uppity and the last thing she wanted after fighting a war was to go to the Halls of Government and talk politics with a Doyen. She wanted a damn bath and a good meal and an undisturbed night’s sleep.
It was the least they were all owed.
But she knew that Ashwood still had Crafters and buskers spread across the realms and it was their job to come to an agreement on next steps. Those who were enthralled by the Loj would now be free to get their minds back, and those who followed him willingly would now be aimless without a true leader.
They would surrender to the army Tavia and the others had built.
They would surrender to the armies that the other Realm Doyens would undoubtedly bring into Uskhanya to help ferry peace.
And if they didn’t, Tavia and her friends would be right there, waiting.
43
Saxony
THE CITY OF YEJLATH felt like a ghost city, despite the fact that it was crawling with soldiers. Ashwood had only taken a small part of his army to Creije and the rest had been here, in the government city, where Schulze’s people had bested them.
The people not dead were already imprisoned and Schulze’s soldiers patrolled the cobbled streets for any enemies they had missed, but even with the sparse groups of everyday people meandering across the roads, Saxony couldn’t help but think Yejlath looked rather sad.
The Halls of Government were well guarded, and earlier, when Saxony, Tavia, and Karam had walked toward the collection of grandiose buildings, Saxony noticed how pristine they still looked, even after the bloody battle that had taken place on their steps just days before.
They were painted an even cream, arching in high bulbous statues, with grand gold doors and cobblestoned pathways. But with no people and no echo of the music that usually flowed from the windows—remnants of the enchanted government orchestra instruments that played endless symphonies from dusk until dawn—they had a dead quality to them that made Saxony’s jaw go tight.
Ashwood had sucked the spirit from this realm and it would take time to call it back.
Saxony shuffled among the crowd.
Karam, Tavia, and Zekia were lined up alongside her, as rows of the realm communicators—who usually spread gossip faster than news—waited among the public in anticipation for the talk to begin.
It would be the first time the Doyen had made an official appearance and an official announcement since the war had ended, and Saxony was eager to hear exactly what it was she had to say after days spent in discussion with Wesley.
Schulze hadn’t let the rest of them be a part of the talks. It was a sacred and serious discussion, she’d said, between her and the underboss, who could represent the buskers and the Crafters.
After all, Wesley belonged to both.
“I wish they’d hurry up,” Tavia said. “I need to pee.”