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  • Home > Samantha Young > The Tale of Lunarmorte > Blood Solstice (Page 43)     
  • Blood Solstice(The Tale of Lunarmorte #3)(43) by Samantha Young
  • For the Council it was yes to all of the above. Saffron had been sent in with a few other top faeries to spy on Orina Beketov and the Midnight Council. The report came with the good and the bad. The chaos of discovering Caia’s existence; that Ethan and Marita were dead; that there was no longer the trace to bind them together in war had put a temporary stop to Midnight attacks again – days before their attack against the Krôls was meant to take place. The bad news was Orina Beketov wanted to continue her war against other supernatural races and was gradually winning over a very confused Council. The Daylight Council took this to mean the war would go on as it had done, and had recommenced classes at the Center. Caia wasn’t as convinced. In fact, she had an entirely different idea. She knew from having had the trace for the past ten months that the Midnight Coven was saturated with people who would gladly welcome peace. An idea was brewing in her busy brain, one she had imparted to no one, not even Lucien. But the library where she hoped to discover all she needed to know was proving infertile.

    Ugh, she really didn’t want to have to turn to Reuben for this one. But it was looking more and more likely.

    “You look annoyed.” Phoebe MacLachlan strode through the doors into the empty room, her dry tone somewhat relaxing after having been in the library by herself for hours.

    Caia nodded and slammed the book shut. “I’m not having a good research day.”

    The Rogue Hunter slid into the seat opposite her. “What are you up to, Caia?”

    Damn the lykan. She was nosy and perceptive and persistent to a fault. She was also extremely trustworthy, and Caia counted herself as one of the lucky few that Phoebe trusted and respected.

    “I have a plan.”

    “I’m listening.”

    When Caia was done Phoebe threw her a look that would have been a smile if the lykan had known what one was. “You need to look in the archives.”

    The what now? “Huh?”

    Phoebe rolled her eyes and stood to her feet, gesturing for Caia to follow her. She wound her way through the dark aisles of books until they came to the back wall of the room. All Caia saw was another row of bookshelves. She would be wrong.

    Phoebe approached the middle of the aisle and reached up to pull on a thick bronzed leather tome. A creak, followed by a rumbling shudder seconds later, and the middle of the bookshelf opened inwards like double doors.

    Caia’s jaw dropped. “How did you know this was here and I didn’t?”

    Phoebe shrugged. “I assumed the archives were public knowledge.”

    “Uh-uh.” Caia followed her into a beautiful, well lit room with no exit. In the middle was another library desk with green bankers’ lamps, and bordering the entire room were shelves of books. Walking behind Phoebe, she felt her gaze falling to the mosaic floor where different tales of the gods were depicted in stunning color and splendor. She winced at the sharp tap her flat pumps made against what was surely a masterpiece and should never be trodden upon. Phoebe didn’t seem to be as bothered.

    “Here.” She indicated a row of books. “You should find what you need.”

    “Phoebe, I need this to stay between us until I’ve done my research.”

    The lykan nodded, her mouth firm and her eyes guileless. “Of course. It could be a very good idea, Caia.”

    She smiled wryly. “So if they say yes, you’re in?”

    Phoebe snorted, “If there’s a fight, then I’m in.”

    “You want to do what?” Benedict screeched at her and Caia had to stop herself from laughing at his outrage.

    So the Council were looking at her with a mixture of awe and horror. That could mean anything right? Lucien was smiling up at her encouragingly along with Marion and Reuben. Vanne seemed to be chuckling as if he couldn’t quite believe her gall.

    “I think it’s the only way to end this,” she insisted.

    “It’s completely insane and out of the question!” Benedict bawled.

    Caia narrowed her eyes on him. OK, he wasn’t so amusing anymore. He was just plain annoying. “Last time I checked there were eight other people on this Council with a vote.”

    He growled at her, “By all means let us see you humiliated by the rest of my colleagues for your depravity.”

    She gasped, “Depravity? I’m not depraved just because I have the courage to actually do something about ending this war!”

    “Benedict,” Vanne warned quietly. “Insult her again and you will have me to answer to.”

    Caia flushed under Vanne’s protectiveness but was glad for it because the warlock immediately blanched and sat down. Despite his place outside the Council no one had forgotten how powerful Vanne was. Caia noticed Marion throwing him a mournful look. Caia sighed. After this was all over she was going to have to do something about those two.

    “Yes, let’s be civil,” Penelope agreed, before looking up at Caia with worried eyes. “This is quite a proposal, Caia.”

    It was. It really, really was. After the trace had gone, Caia had begun to think about a measure that would help sort the wheat from the chaff. No matter what happened there was going to be bloodshed but Caia reckoned it would be better if the bloodshed happened in one fell swoop and gave them the closure they needed to begin to build a new world for supernaturals. She began to think about the battles that must have been fought many years ago, when honor had been settled on the battlefield. The history books in the library had been of no real use until Phoebe had taken her into the archives. It was there she learned of the spells cast to summon both Covens to a battleground that had been cast in protective magik, shielding it from human eyes. There, those brave enough to fight would convene, and a great bloody battle would be fought until one side had destroyed the other. It was a mighty style of warfare in which even the faeries – who were utilized only for spying now – shifted into their animal of choice and took part in the combat.

    Caia believed they should cast the old spell calling to those Midnights who had no intention of ever making peace with the Daylights to fight them on the battlefield.

    “Caia, most, if not all, of the Midnights will show up because their pride and superiority will expect no less of them,” one of the older Council members insisted gravely. “We’ll be completely outnumbered.”

    “No.” She shook her head. “You have to trust me. When I had the trace I felt them all. I felt such a need for accord, for unity and harmony in them, that it broke my heart. There are thousands of them who will meet us on that battlefield, who will never see us as anything but lesser beings, but there are thousands of them who will stay home and who will wait for us to come to them with an offer of peace. Let us destroy those who stand in the way of that.”

    She saw the glimmer of hope in their eyes, their indrawn breaths, the way they leaned forward into her words. They wanted to believe but were so afraid of it.

    Trying to contain her excitement, her desperation, Caia lowered herself into a seat before them, her eyes wide and honest. “Have I not proven myself to you time and again? Do you not trust me to protect out people?”

    Penelope nodded, her eyes shining bright.

    One down.

    “We can meet them in battle and win because all they have is hate. And believe me, our weapons are a lot stronger than hate.”

    Alfred suddenly looked determined. “The Council has a very big decision to make. Perhaps you should retire to your room, Caia, and we will call for you when we have come to it.”

    As soon as the bedroom door had closed Lucien drew Caia into his arms and lifted her up into a searing kiss, wishing he could stay locked like that forever. She gasped when he finally let her go but hung onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist.

    “What was that for?” she asked as she nuzzled his jaw and neck.

    For a lot of things, he thought dazedly. But mostly for being the most extraordinary person he had ever had the honor of knowing. He kissed her again. “For making me more proud than I have ever known.”

    She smiled sweetly, blushing. “Yeah?”

    Lucien nodded, chuckling at her modesty. “That was some speech.”

    “Do you think they’ll say yes?”

    Gods, he hoped so.

    Instead of answering he began to make love to her, knowing if they did say yes he would follow Caia to that battleground; he would fight for her because he loved her; he would fight for his pack and the hope of a future in which their children could grow up untroubled by the war. It was a cause he believed in. And one he was willing to die for.

    30 – Battle Fever

    The answer was a resounding yes. Not just from the Council, who had voted in Caia’s favor – with the exception of Benedict and the elderly magik who had raised his own concerns – but from the Daylights themselves. First the Council spoke with those at the Center and Caia was blown away by their eagerness to march into battle. When their plan to bring the war to an end was put forth the walls shook and the floor thudded with the stamping and animalistic cries of the supernaturals. They were ready for it. This was what they had been waiting for. Their enthusiasm seemed to ease some of the Council’s apprehensions, and preparations for the spell began.

    Not too many days after that Caia was invited to take part in casting the spell that would request willing Daylights to fight for their cause as well as those Midnights, who would never see themselves working side by side with other supernatural races, to meet them in battle. It was a moment immensely powerful for Caia, as she joined hands with the Council and added her energy to the summons, connected to these nine people in the exhausting spell that required the combined strength of these incredibly gifted magiks. The spell took a great amount of control and precision; their message was sent out mentally to all supernaturals and had to be called in pace with each other. A pendulum swung in the middle of the circle with a slow click to keep the time of each sentence in their minds to ensure they spoke out as one. When at last they could be sure the message had been delivered they broke apart, their limbs trembling with weariness.

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