Hotbloods 5: Traitors

“A few disagreements have to be better than a nation that’s completely split down the middle, with one side forbidden from setting foot in the other?” I countered, knowing how well that worked out for countries on Earth. “This war won’t stop until one side has completely obliterated the other. You have to know that!”

Sarrask smiled sadly. “I believe it will end when Brisha is taken down,” he reasoned. “It doesn’t matter what I think is best in the long run, because it’s out of my hands. The only thing I can do now is join the side I believe in, and hope to Rask we end this war quickly so that the violence will stop with fewer lives lost.”

Mort snorted rudely. “I hate to break up your pity party, but if we want to beat the tide, we’re going to have to get running, if you catch my drift,” he said. “Airstrikes, as you well know, wait for no man. So, say a quick farewell and spare me the sappy goodbyes—I didn’t bring any anti-nausea meds with me, and I’d hate to spew all over this quaint kitchen.”

Mort was right, but I hated the thought of leaving these two to rejoin the Southern fight, especially if Sarrask thought that killing Brisha was the only way to cease the fighting.

“Stay safe, okay?” I demanded, pulling Kaido into an awkward hug. He squirmed against me, desperate to be free of my grip. Still, I wasn’t breaking away until I was good and ready.

“I will, if you let me go!” he mumbled, gasping with relief as I released him. “I apologize if my behavior seems rude, Riley, but you must know I detest physical contact.”

“If you were a plant, he’d be all over you,” Sarrask teased, breaking the tension.

“I would not!” Kaido protested, but Sarrask ignored him.

He moved toward me and wrapped me in a tight embrace, practically squeezing the air out of my lungs. “You take care of yourself out there, Riley. Don’t take any crap from anyone. You’re one of a kind—never forget that,” he murmured close to my ear, before letting me go.

“Yeah, well, don’t you go getting yourselves killed on the front line!” I retorted, my cheeks flushing.

He grinned. “I’ll try not to. Besides, I’ve got Jumpy McGee over here to watch my back.”

“I can definitely vouch for that,” I said, flashing an affectionate look at Kaido, who seemed utterly confused as to who ‘Jumpy McGee’ was supposed to be. After witnessing his skills on the battlefield firsthand, I knew Sarrask would be okay as long as he stuck with his talented brother.

Navan hugged his brothers, and then Ronad made his rounds, until everyone had said their brief goodbyes. It was bittersweet, not knowing when or if we might see the two Idraxes again. I just hoped they survived the war and lived long enough to see a more peaceful Vysanthe, one way or another.

I knew whom I’d be rooting for, if I had to pick sides, but I wasn’t about to admit it out loud. More than anything, I was rooting for the people. If I’d had my way, I would have put the two queens in a ring and made them fight it out between themselves, but that really wasn’t realistic.

“Are you done?” Mort grumbled impatiently.

“Watch your mouth, skinbag, or we’ll drop you off back on Mallarot!” Navan warned.

He scoffed. “I’d like to see you try. They wouldn’t take me!”

With the two of them arguing out the door, we made our way around the back of the cottage, where the ship Navan had borrowed from Brisha squatted on a makeshift driveway. Ronad had managed to rid it of unwanted cameras and trackers, while we’d been busy worrying about wedding preparations, making it shipshape and ready to fly. Navan took the helm, turning on the invisibility shield as the ship lifted into the sky.

It was time to push through to the North, save our friends, and get the hell out of Vysanthe while we still had the chance.





Chapter Thirty-Five





We reached the border an hour later, only to find it in total disarray. The shimmering barrier that separated the North and the South was blinking off and on, with whole sections crackling and sparking. It looked like someone had tried to repair it, succeeding to some extent.

I walked from window to window to get a better look at our surroundings, grateful for the change of clothes I’d found in the cargo-hold of Navan’s military ship. It was an infantry uniform, and much too big for me, but I’d made it work with belts and ties, sticking to just the pants and t-shirt instead of the full garb. If we were forced to fight, I didn’t feel like taking on an enemy in an elegant gown.

All around, gunships hovered in the darkness like weird, deep-sea creatures, their windows lit up as a warning that they were waiting for the ceasefire to end.

On the ground in the Southern half, silver tents were arranged in clusters, the arched canvas roofs making them look like beetles resting on the dirt. I guessed that was where the front-line infantry was staying, using the ceasefire to rest up for the following sunset. Part of me wondered if they were simply sharpening their blades and cleaning their guns, suspecting the fight would come much sooner than that.

Navan kept the vessel low to the ground and moved it down the mountain range, away from the tents and gunships. Finding a narrow gap in the flickering barrier, he waited for the moment it crackled away before driving the ship through the border and into the Northern territories. Even if the systems picked up on our invisibility shield, the fact that we were riding in one of Brisha’s military ships would hopefully protect us from scrutiny.

As we soared toward Nessun, I realized we were already too late. Up ahead, six Titans stomped through the settlements as if they were toy towns. They were taller than the tallest spire of Brisha’s palace, crushing homes and ships underfoot, while tiny dots tried to run for safety beneath their brutal gait. My stomach turned, bile rising in my throat. Towns had been razed to the ground, entire streets set on fire, and in the moonlight, I could see the scattered forms of countless dead, the ash of their corpses floating in the wind.

I understood now. We hadn’t been able to get through to Brisha’s control room because they were too busy to accept our call. And there had been no ships on the Northern side because they were already deep into battle with the Titans.

I covered my mouth as a Titan grasped one of the ant-like coldbloods, who was trying to run away, and lifted her in its vast palm. The beast crushed the poor woman, squeezing so hard her head popped off. I looked away, struggling to hold on to the contents of my stomach.

The Titans were remarkably humanoid despite their size. Their long, silver hair was braided down their backs, intertwined with what seemed to be ribbons of flesh and trophies, probably taken from their enemies. Across their bright white bodies, metal plates and jeweled adornments blended with their skin. One had an entire arm made of silver plates and spikes, with only a scrap of flesh poking through, while a golden tattoo arced across the bare chest of another, though each piece of the tattoo looked as though it had been smelted onto his flesh, the molten metal melding to his body.

Our armor gift would’ve gone straight into their museum of enemy artifacts or been wrapped around one of their braids. If they’d wanted to wear it, it would barely have covered an elbow.

Brisha’s fighter ships were locked in an aerial assault on the Titans. Their floodlights illuminated everything below as they fired at the enemy from above, before wheeling away to let the next wave of gunships approach. It didn’t seem to be doing much good, however, the artillery pinging off the metal pieces. Even when they hit flesh, the Titans barely seemed bothered, ignoring the rivulets of golden blood trickling down their bodies.

A female Titan, who had implanted bronze plates where a bra might have gone, snatched a fighter ship from the sky, King-Kong style, hurling it against the ground. It exploded at the Titan’s feet, but she just laughed, shielding her eyes against the blast as it consumed a group of escaping civilians.