From the Ashes (The Elder Blood Chronicles, #3)(143)

Exhaustion washed over her as Jala let the last of her magic holding the Dragon fade. The Avanti army was broken and most had fled the field running hard to the north. Leaning back in her saddle, Jala turned her head to gaze at Jail.

“Well, we won,” the Mind mage mumbled, his eyes locked on the body-strewn field beyond.

“And it was beautiful,” Jala breathed softly. Her eyes lifted to watch a rider approaching swiftly and it took her a long moment to realize it was her father. Her human eyes seemed weak and blurry after spending the past few hours watching the world with a dragon’s vision.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it beautiful,” Jail muttered, his own gaze on Badger now as the man pulled his horse to a stop beside Jala. The animal was heavily lathered and breathing in harsh gasps. It wasn’t like her father to work a horse so hard.

“We have prisoners, Jala. Valor sent me to fetch you. The woman, at least, is of House Avanti. I’m not sure about the rest,” Badger said, still breathless from his ride and the fighting.

“Cassia,” Jala hissed. “Where?” she demanded. The exhaustion she had felt moments before was forgotten.

Badger eyed her for a moment and then nodded over his shoulder. “At what’s left of their camp. This way,” he said as he wheeled his horse back toward the Avanti camp.

Cassia. Her mind repeated the name almost like a curse. The bitch that sent the Nightblades after Finn. The main reason Jala was on a battlefield right now. If not for Cassia, it was possible that the Avanti wouldn’t have bothered to look south. Merro wasn’t a threat to anyone. It was Cassia’s hatred that had sent House Avanti after her people. Jala barely noticed the ride across the field or the scattered bodies. Her mind was focused on one thing alone, Cassia.

Her horse slowed to a trot as they neared a small group of knights. Jala could see Valor standing near the center of the group with several forms seated behind him on the ground. Her eyes found Cassia almost instantly. The woman was dressed in a gown rather than armor, and from the looks of her face she had been crying for some time. Dropping down from her saddle Jala strode toward the woman, her eyes never wavering from her target.

“There are six in all, Milady. At least two are officers,” Foster offered as Jala drew closer.

Nodding her head silently, Jala continued past, pausing only long enough to rip a sword free from one of the milling knights. A gasp of shock sounded behind her, no doubt from the man she had just mugged, but she didn’t slow. It was the first time she had ever actually held a sword, but she didn’t need skill for what she was about to do. Closing quickly on Cassia, Jala drew the sword up behind her and brought it down for a viscous slash at the woman without so much as a pause in her steps. Pain shot through her arm as the sword blade struck something solid in its path toward Cassia and Jala fell back her eyes locked on Valor who held the blade firmly in his gauntlet.

“Could you sleep at night after murdering her, Jala?” Valor asked, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Soundly and with a smile on my face,” Jala returned as she tried to pull the sword free from his grasp.

“Look at her, Jala. She is bound and helpless,” Valor pressed, taking a small step forward and forcing the sword blade up more.

“She killed Finn. She caused the whole bloody war,” Jala snarled. She couldn’t believe Valor of all people was stopping her now. He hated Cassia as much as she did.

“What happens when Legacy attends the Academy and reads how his mother brutally killed prisoners of war? Could you sleep then, Jala?” Valor asked as he took another step toward her and the blade of her sword tilted even farther from her target. “Killing a prisoner is something they would do, Jala. Are you like them? Which is it, Lady Bendazzi? Am I serving a tyrant or are you simply governed by anger now?” With every word he drew closer until he was near enough to reach her hand and carefully pry her fingers back from the sword’s hilt. Taking it from her hand gently he tossed the blade back to its owner and nodded slowly to her. “I hate her too, Jala. I want her dead as well, but she surrendered and we are not the sort of people that murder prisoners.”

“I hate her, Val. I hate her so much,” Jala whispered, the anger fading from her as she stared at the sigil of the Bendazzi on his breastplate.

“I know, Jala. You are standing on that ledge right now, though. You are balanced right on the verge of darkness, and no matter how badly you want her dead, I won’t let you fall. I will not let you become one of them, no matter how hurt or angry you are. You are better than they are, Jala,” Valor whispered back.

Jala looked up slowly, her eyes searching his face. There was nothing but concern in his dark blue eyes. She had been expecting disappointment and felt relief wash over her when she didn’t find it there.

“The Lord is approaching,” Jail said softly behind her and Jala nodded slowly before turning away from Valor to watch Jexon pull his horse to a stop beside her own.

“Thank you, Valor,” Jala whispered as she pulled back from him and walked toward Jexon. She could see the fury on her husband’s face, but it no longer concerned her. The agreement had been that she would be the obedient wife as long as he protected Merro. He had failed in his task by attempting surrender, which freed her from the obligation of good behavior.

Jexon closed on her quickly, his strides fueled by his fury. He would rant and rave, but nothing more. He never did more with witnesses. Jala watched him calmly and held a hand up for the knights to stay back. “It’s OK,” she told them softly. Though, by the expressions on their faces, they hardly agreed.