Page 144

He nodded, and I untied the message from its tinyleg, unrolling it. Demos leaned close, and I couldn’t help but breathe in the scent of him.

The message was from Rekja. Our generals had been moving our own army north. And Rekja’s regiment had managed to push Regner’s soldiers out of Gromalia. This war would be fought in Eprotha and not Gromalia.

I grinned, raising my gaze to Demos’s.

But he wasn’t smiling. Instead, a muscle ticked in his cheek, and his eyes were hard. “It doesn’t make sense,” he said, and his tone made a ball of dread expand throughout my gut. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

24

Prisca

Asinia and Demos had found the amulet. From the tone of Asinia’s letter, it had been even more difficult than expected. But it provided all of us with some much-needed hope.

We spent several days understanding everything we could about the army that would now fight for us. Each morning, Lorian, Galon, and Marth trained with them, analyzing the four thousand soldiers who made up our vanguard, the three thousand archers, the siege unit, and the remaining foot soldiers of the infantry.

In the afternoons, we learned logistics. According to Orivan, the elders had ensured that this army was well supplied and organized before allowing Zathrian to take control.

Within three days, we would be moving south, prepared to attack Regner’s army from the north, while Daharak attacked from the sea and the fae, hybrids, and Gromalians marched through Gromalia. She had left to meet with her captains and solidify their own orders, leaving us the ship we’d arrived on.

It would take weeks to move this many soldiers all the way through the NormathePass and across Eprotha. But according to Asinia, the regiments we would have fought on our way south were no longer there, having already begun marching into Gromalia.

In the morning, I was sitting outside our tent, answering Asinia’s message. Some sense made me look up, and I found Lorian prowling toward me.

It must have been later than I’d expected.

“How was training?”

“They’re in good shape. Galon’s expecting you in an hour.”

I nodded. “Any news from the Arslan?”

As expected, he shook his head.

Our messages to Rythos and Madinia either weren’t being delivered, or both of them were in serious trouble. Lorian’s jaw clenched. Panic wound through my gut.

Marth had stopped sleeping. He’d practically begged Lorian to send him after Rythos. But if his people had turned on them, or if Regner had set up some kind of trap, Marth would fall into it too.

I held up my most recent message. “Conreth is hoping to march soon. Apparently, he had some disputes with territory wardens that needed to be resolved in order to get the soldiers he needed.”

As Lorian’s skin sparked and his eyes turned half wild, I was glad none of those wardens was here at this moment.

If they were the reason Conreth’s army didn’t make it in time…

Marth strode toward us. Sweat dripped down his face, and he wiped at it with the back of his arm.

“Your cousin wants to speak with you. He says he has information you need to hear.”

Zathrian had lived. The healers had gotten to him in time. I didn’t know what I would do with my cousin. Perhaps I was merely prolonging the inevitable—and the best thing for all of us would be for him to die. Soon.

But…

“Do better than me, cousin. Be the ruler I wished I could be. Bring our people home.”

I sighed. I was once again attributing good qualities to him that he didn’t actually have.

Zathrian knew it was over. He knew he would never be king. Talking to him was like handling an angry viper and expecting it not to strike.

“What do you think he wants?”