realm.
“That’s good.” Ian’s chest rumbled as he spoke, his deep voice easing her a little more.
Later, when the retrieval team arrived to take Braden and his bonded mate away, Regan went into the kitchen and drank two large glasses of water. She then invoked another spell and set about removing the bile from her blood. She also encouraged Ian to be with his Guardsmen especially since she needed some time alone.
She went into the bathroom of her guest room, intending to wipe down. But when she saw how much blood spatter she had on her face, neck and in her hair, she stripped down and stepped into the shower. She let the warm water flow, then focused inward on her blood to continue the cleansing process.
By the time she toweled off, put on fresh clothes, and set about drying her hair, she felt more like herself, just really sober, even grief-stricken from having gotten this close to the war.
CHAPTER FIVE
A half hour later, Ian hovered in the air near the gorge cliff. The retrieval team had come and gone and now his men were doing a search for those Invictus who’d been struck down midair and fallen into the gorge.
Three trolls, already planted in the afterlife, had been brought up and now lay in a row at the edge of the cliff. Their bonded wraiths lay near them as well, also dead.
There would be more to come.
It was tough seeing them stretched out. Each Realm-person had most likely been abducted and the bond forced on them. When it happened, these men and women became beast-like versions of themselves and anxious to make war.
The Invictus fought with a ferocity matched only by trained Guardsmen or those shifters belonging to any of the Nine Realm Brigades.
Aware how much he owed his second-in-command, Ian stood next to Ben. “Thanks for getting the troops here as fast as you did. You saved my ass.”
“Grateful as hell we got here in time.” He glanced at the house. “But you’ll need new digs.”
“I’ve thought of that. I’m going to take Regan to my cabin.” He should have taken her there in the first place. It was in the far northeastern part of his realm and high in the mountains. Given the distance from Margetta’s fortress on the border between Camberlaune and Stone’s realm, he was pretty sure he’d be free from any kind of Invictus attacks.
No one knew where his cabin was except for one fae caretaker who lived several miles to the south of the dwelling and could be trusted to keep the place a secret.
He hadn’t even shared the location with Ben, or the name of his caretaker, and he intended to keep it that way. He often went to his mountain retreat after a grueling night when too many of his people died and not enough Invictus had been saved to send to Bergisson for rehab.
Right now, after almost dying at the hands of a wraith-bonded mastyr, he wanted Regan in his arms and the wind in his face as he flew northeast for about seventy miles.
Stone appeared suddenly, topping the edge of the cliff, a dead female troll in his arms. Ian understood the hard expression on his face, especially since the troll wore slave chains pierced through her ears and nose. A lot of his Realm-folk were abducted and forced into slavery first. Later, they’d have to endure bonding with a wraith and the subsequent vaporizing of personality, long held beliefs, and basic Realm decency. As a result, most of those wraith-bonded would eventually die during a battle with his Vampire Guard or his Brigade.
Ian needed the war over.
Stone laid the body next to a wraith. He rose, but remained where he was, his eyes closed. He was probably offering up a prayer of supplication to the Goddess to take her servant despite the sins of the wraith-bond. Ian had done the same thousands of times over the centuries.
He crossed his arms over his chest and stared out across the gorge to the opposite cliff, beyond the tree line and into the southern night sky. A bright glow of stars burned along what he knew to be the Milky
“That’s good.” Ian’s chest rumbled as he spoke, his deep voice easing her a little more.
Later, when the retrieval team arrived to take Braden and his bonded mate away, Regan went into the kitchen and drank two large glasses of water. She then invoked another spell and set about removing the bile from her blood. She also encouraged Ian to be with his Guardsmen especially since she needed some time alone.
She went into the bathroom of her guest room, intending to wipe down. But when she saw how much blood spatter she had on her face, neck and in her hair, she stripped down and stepped into the shower. She let the warm water flow, then focused inward on her blood to continue the cleansing process.
By the time she toweled off, put on fresh clothes, and set about drying her hair, she felt more like herself, just really sober, even grief-stricken from having gotten this close to the war.
CHAPTER FIVE
A half hour later, Ian hovered in the air near the gorge cliff. The retrieval team had come and gone and now his men were doing a search for those Invictus who’d been struck down midair and fallen into the gorge.
Three trolls, already planted in the afterlife, had been brought up and now lay in a row at the edge of the cliff. Their bonded wraiths lay near them as well, also dead.
There would be more to come.
It was tough seeing them stretched out. Each Realm-person had most likely been abducted and the bond forced on them. When it happened, these men and women became beast-like versions of themselves and anxious to make war.
The Invictus fought with a ferocity matched only by trained Guardsmen or those shifters belonging to any of the Nine Realm Brigades.
Aware how much he owed his second-in-command, Ian stood next to Ben. “Thanks for getting the troops here as fast as you did. You saved my ass.”
“Grateful as hell we got here in time.” He glanced at the house. “But you’ll need new digs.”
“I’ve thought of that. I’m going to take Regan to my cabin.” He should have taken her there in the first place. It was in the far northeastern part of his realm and high in the mountains. Given the distance from Margetta’s fortress on the border between Camberlaune and Stone’s realm, he was pretty sure he’d be free from any kind of Invictus attacks.
No one knew where his cabin was except for one fae caretaker who lived several miles to the south of the dwelling and could be trusted to keep the place a secret.
He hadn’t even shared the location with Ben, or the name of his caretaker, and he intended to keep it that way. He often went to his mountain retreat after a grueling night when too many of his people died and not enough Invictus had been saved to send to Bergisson for rehab.
Right now, after almost dying at the hands of a wraith-bonded mastyr, he wanted Regan in his arms and the wind in his face as he flew northeast for about seventy miles.
Stone appeared suddenly, topping the edge of the cliff, a dead female troll in his arms. Ian understood the hard expression on his face, especially since the troll wore slave chains pierced through her ears and nose. A lot of his Realm-folk were abducted and forced into slavery first. Later, they’d have to endure bonding with a wraith and the subsequent vaporizing of personality, long held beliefs, and basic Realm decency. As a result, most of those wraith-bonded would eventually die during a battle with his Vampire Guard or his Brigade.
Ian needed the war over.
Stone laid the body next to a wraith. He rose, but remained where he was, his eyes closed. He was probably offering up a prayer of supplication to the Goddess to take her servant despite the sins of the wraith-bond. Ian had done the same thousands of times over the centuries.
He crossed his arms over his chest and stared out across the gorge to the opposite cliff, beyond the tree line and into the southern night sky. A bright glow of stars burned along what he knew to be the Milky
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