Fires of War (War and Deceit #4) - Erin O'Kane Page 0,134

neutral, but his eyes are soft. “Most people don’t think that way.”

There had been a big argument about the best way for us to arrive at Galandell. It was agreed that we would march this morning as per the Mother’s instructions, however, the chiefs wanted to dress me up and have me ride at the front. I objected. I am not a figurehead, I am a warrior the same as everyone else. When there are limited resources, they should go to those who need them most. As part-elf, I am stronger and more resilient. Besides, I want to be among everyone. If I am forced to accept I’m seen as the ‘beloved,’ the goddess’ chosen, and not as Clarissa, then isn’t it better that they can actually see me mingling amongst them?

A flash of regret fills me at the slight rift between my aunt and me, but I’m not going to back away from my morals for the sake of appearances.

Sighing, I finally acknowledge something I’ve come to realise. “I am not most people.” There is something freeing in the admission. All I’ve ever wanted was to blend in, to have a normal life, and my existence has been anything but. Even once I was freed, my mind seemed to work differently. I don’t know if that’s due to my past experiences or if I was born this way, but I can’t deny it any longer.

Feeling someone’s gaze on me, I look around and notice Grayson is watching me, his eyes soft. “You really aren’t.” His words could sound insulting, but I feel his love and admiration, knowing he wouldn’t want me any other way.

“Hmm,” Naril hums, breaking my moment with Grayson as he steps into my field of vision with a grin on his face. “I still think you’ll get at least two more propositions before we stop for lunch.”

Naril was right. I was approached by another mage and a well-meaning tribesman, both offering their mounts, all of which I kindly declined.

Now seated around a hastily made campfire, I sip my broth as I listen to the argument going on around me. Grayson sits on my right, Vaeril is on my left, and Eldrin and Tor stand behind us with their arms crossed. Jacob sits opposite, and when his eyes meet mine, he shakes his head in exasperation. I agree with his frustration.

“With all of us together, we have greater numbers than them.” Chief Arne jabs his finger down onto the map that they’re all gathered around. “We should simply storm the city, overwhelm them.” A chorus of groans meets his words as people talk over each other.

Ragnar clears his throat, his arms crossed. “I agree. Now that we have the magicians, we will have the strength.”

I hadn’t approved of this plan to start with, and now that I know he’s behind it, I agree even less. Burying my sigh, I try to push my pettiness aside. I’ve looked at that map and memorised the shapes for what feels like a hundred times, getting Tor to read it to me, explaining what the writing says so I’m able to take part in the discussions. However, at the end of the day, in a face-to-face battle with the forsaken, we will lose. There has to be another way, I’ve just not found it yet.

“The forsaken are too strong,” Speaker Beck, the representative from the sea elves, interjects, and Speaker Hawthorn hums in agreement at his side.

High Mage Merrin sighs and stands, brushing down his robes. “Our magic is untested on these forsaken. We don’t know how they’ll react to it.” I know how much it must hurt him to admit this, but with truth as his gift, we would be wise to listen to him. “Rushing in is a poor idea.”

Grayson is nodding at my side. I know he’s worried about his mages. Fighting elves on a battlefield is one thing, but fighting an enemy you don’t know on an unknown battleground is something different entirely. Not to mention the forsaken have the advantage of being in a place they know well, and they know we’re coming. There is no way to hide our approach.

“We have the goddess on our side,” one of the large chiefs rumbles, his belly as big as his voice. “We defeated them before, we can do it again!”

“You are all fools,” Eldrin growls from behind me. Everyone stills before turning their attention to us. Their expressions range from chagrined to outraged, but no one challenges