Free Infinity by Andria Buchanan Page B

“Bavasama’s version of the pregame show? She just wanted to show us that she could do this and we couldn’t stop her?”
    “She wanted revenge,” Winston snapped. “This isn’t about magic artifacts or thrones or anything else. You humiliated her, and this is how she got revenge. She attacked our borders to punish you.”
    “Yeah,” I said with a snort of derision, “well, I can’t wait to see what she does when I march my army into her country and do the same thing to her that she did to my mother.”
    “What?” John asked, his eyes wide. “What do you mean what she did to your mother?”
    “Bavasama.” I swallowed. “She took my mother hostage and then disguised herself to look like my mom so she could sit on the Rose Throne. Then, when she thought she might be caught, she used the Great Relics to force my mother through the Mirror so the Fate Maker could rule Nerissette as regent.”
    “By the stars.” John’s face paled. “How long? How long did she pretend to be your mother?”
    “I don’t know,” I said, then shook my head. “But what I do know is that after these attacks, her days on the throne of Bathune are numbered.”
    “Your aunt must have been willing to take the risk,” John said. “She tried this in the hopes that our behavior at the peace treaty signing was all an act, that in reality you were sick of war but just didn’t want to appear weak.”
    If that’s what Bavasama thought, then she was right. I was sick of war. I was sick of blood and battles and the smell of the dead burning. I was really sick of that stupid, hollow feeling in my chest that came from watching my friends suffer and die. I was sick of feeling weak every time I was forced to make a decision that led to someone else dying.
    What I was really sick of most of all, though? I was really, really freaking sick of people thinking that we were just going to lie down and die so that life could be more convenient for them. That was going to stop today. Right now, in fact. I was sick of being walked on.
    “So what do we do?” a white-skinned nymph on the right called out. “What will the allies of the Aurae do to stop these attacks?”
    “Aquella?” I searched for her in the crowd, and the blue-skinned naiad stepped forward from the cluster of nymphs near the windows on the left side of the room.
    “Yes, Your Majesty?”
    “Can you stop the fires? If we send you out with dragon scouts, can you stop the fire in the White Mountains and make it safe for our army to travel?”
    “We can bring storms that will make the Pleiades tremble,” Aquella said, her pale blue eyes fixed on mine. “Darinda and her Order will feel the rains we bring here even inside the Summer Lands.”
    The Summer Lands. The nymph version of Heaven. The place where the souls of those we lost were said to wait for us to come and find them again at the end of our own time in this realm.
    “How long until it’s safe for the army to move through the forests and into the White Mountains?”
    “Give us three days,” Aquella said cautiously. I could see the fear in her eyes at sending her people out to face a fire that had already killed all but one of the dryads.
    “When will the army be ready, Rhys? Not just here, but ready to march. How long?” I asked.
    He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Five days, a week at most. In one week we can make you an army the likes of which this world has never seen, an army that would make our own world tremble.”
    “Do you think we can spare a week?” I asked. I could hear everyone in the room draw in a breath, waiting for his answer. Did we have seven more days before war came to Nerissette?
    “If we can find a way to stall Bavasama from taking more action, it may give us enough time.” Winston cleared his throat. “Send her a message. Ask for terms. Apologize for how you treated her.”
    “No. I’m not apologizing to that woman. She killed Darinda.” I turned and narrowed my eyes at him, gripping