Send Me Their Souls (Bring Me Their Hearts #3) - Sara Wolf Page 0,24

edges.

The white walls rot gray with ash and smoke, the glistening palace’s spires are fragmented and broken, the body of two massive valkerax impaled on them and dripping blood down the palace’s marble walls. The Crimson Lady is torn asunder, its two perfectly cleaved halves crushing scores of houses below it. Vetris’s only hope against Varia’s magic, the entire reason I was sent into Vetris instead of a witch—now nothing more than red rubble. Red, strewn with long white shapes. Valkerax, dead. Dozens of them. But not hundreds. The dense army camps ringing the city are scathed by fire and craters and broken horses, dogs feasting on the remains.

Crows—black ones—wing in heavy murders over what’s left of the city.

Vetris lost.

Just like that. As easily as that. All the combined might of the polymaths, all of Cavanos’s army, the thing the witches feared so dearly—defeated. Vetris won the Sunless War thirty years ago, against the might of the witches and their Heartless and their magic. But against the valkerax…

The seeing tube is strong, but not strong enough to see the individual details—whether or not the aquifers are intact, how many bodies there are.

“South Gate sustained the heaviest damage, looks like,” Malachite says dully. “And the noble quarter is completely trashed. Judging by the valkerax corpses, it wasn’t an instant attack—the royal family might have had time to evacuate.”

It’s a kind word, meant for Lucien. But the prince’s expression doesn’t so much as twitch. And the swirling in my gut says otherwise. The palace is rubble and sand. No one could’ve lived through that.

“There’s not enough dead valkerax—which means she didn’t even send her main force.” Fione’s voice is cold, compact. Only what’s necessary. Her way of dealing. “An auxiliary would be enough to do this—twenty or thirty.”

Just twenty, just thirty…did all this? I know how big the valkerax are, how powerful. I trained Evlorasin, for New God’s sake! But still, I’m aghast. Lost for words, for thought. Lucien says nothing, seeing tube riveted to the city again. Malachite pats him once on the shoulder, then wisely steps back to give him room. The beneather makes his long-legged way over to me.

“I’m amazed they took down that many valkerax,” he mutters at my side.

“Likewise,” I say softly. “But I suppose the majority of the king’s forces were gathered in the city at the time.”

“Except that just means they have nothing left to fight back with. That’s why Varia hit it first, probably: hamstring the bulk of their forces at once, and they lose all hope.”

I watch Lucien’s hawk profile. “He wants to be down there. With his people.”

“Sure. But that’s not gonna stop Varia. He knows that. We all know that. Our best bet’s Windonhigh. Find what we need to know, get out, and use it against her.”

“Fione’s taking it too well.”

“Nah. She’s just hiding it.”

“And you?” I ask. “You seem awfully calm.”

“I’m used to losing a lot of people at once.” He sighs, resigned. “Comes with the territory of hunting bloodthirsty giant wyrms, you know? Doesn’t mean I don’t feel it; I’ve just learned to deal with it. You’ve gotta deal with it, or it drags you down into despair. Big endless pit.”

I nod. “Yeah. I know.”

“’Course you know. But the nobles over there don’t. They’re different from us. I mean, they do know, but only in theory, in war tactics. Books. Concepts and tutoring. Not reality. So go easy on ’em.”

“I’ll try.”

He pats me on the shoulder the exact same way he did Lucien, then heads over to the captain at the helm. The crew’s whispering can’t be contained, filtering in from behind me.

“Begods, look at the state of it.”

“Spirits save us—valkerax. My grandpa’d be rollin’ in his grave if he could see this.”

“There’s none left to see. None but corpses in Vetris now, I reckon.”

“Ach, shhh! Don’t ya know that black-clad one’s the prince of Cavanos?”

“And I’m a sage-duke. A prince wouldn’t be up here bumming with us. He’d be down there, fighting or fleeing or whatever it is royals do during war.”

“We’ve still got the whole armada, don’t we?”

“The valkerax keep in Cavanos, there’s nothing to worry about. Let ’em rampage, long as they stay away from my wee ones cross the mountains.”

I feel it suddenly, like a latch clicking into place. My limbs go numb, zinging as if asleep, and Lucien seems suddenly…bigger. Taller at the railing. He’s a vacuum pulling my eyes in, my body in.

Magic.

“Lucien!” I stagger as the airship gives a massive heave. The