Page 150
“The human king will attack your most vulnerable.”
“Yes.”
“You want to know his plans.”
“Yes.”
“Then let us bargain.”
25
The Queen
It took time to move an entire war camp. Still, the hybrids were working quickly, the noise rising to a crescendo throughout the day as soldiers called to one another, horses and carts clattering past my tent. From the constant sound of rustling around me, it was clear some of the other tents were already being packed away.
I would likely only have one chance to speak to Zathrian. Once we left this place, we were marching to battle. Prisca leaving her cousin alive was foolish but entirely expected. And she would live to regret her mercy.
Thankfully, Previs was still the posted guard outside my tent during the day. At night, another guard took over—a grim-faced, gruff, older hybrid with a gray speckled beard who refused to even acknowledge me.
Previs had continued to lead me to the latrine and had even taken me to stretch my legs purely for some exercise. At one point, Marth had stomped over, leveling the guard with a cold look.
“What are you doing?”
“T-taking her to the latrine.”
Marth’s cold eyes had met mine. “I’mwatching you.”
I’d angled my head, looking back coolly. When I didn’t reply, he snorted, stalking away.
But the other soldiers grew used to seeing me walking through the camp, Previs by my side.
Twice now, we’d walked directly past the tent I was sure was holding Zathrian. Different guards had been posted outside, and all of them had looked at me as if I were a snake in the grass.
The bare bones of a plan came to mind.
Previs had grown lax, unlocking the manacles from my wrists and leaving them behind entirely. I’d made a point of letting him see the chafing and bruises they had caused when we’d walked a day earlier, wincing as I’d stroked the tender skin. And I’d kept my arm wound through his while we strolled, as if we were two friends taking a walk in a garden.
The idiot seemed to like that.
Fae iron didn’t affect humans the same way it did hybrids and fae. So, while the manacles were heavy and unwieldy, they didn’t dampen my power. The tiny amount of magic available to me remained entirely consistent.
But I could work with that.
As far as Previs was concerned, I had the smallest bladder in four kingdoms. But I needed each walk to plan my distraction. And he seemed more than happy to lead me to the latrine—as opposed to standing outside my tent in the sun.
All I needed was a simple diversion. For two days now, I’d been waiting for the tiniest distraction. Something I could do to draw the soldiers’ attention.
Each time we took our little walk, my gaze darted in every direction, my hold on Previs’s arm tightening until he cast me a concerned glance.
Panic began to burn a hole in my chest. I was running out of time. A flurry of activity had transformed the orderly encampment into organized chaos. The large command tent was already coming down, soldiers working in unison to fold heavy canvas and disassemble the supporting frames.
Most of the tents around us were being collapsed, each piece of canvas, every peg and pole were being efficiently packed, the hybrid soldiers’ movements precise. Bedrolls and personal belongings were being rolled up and stowed in packs, while tents and other supplies were loaded onto waiting carts. Soldiers yelled orders at one another, their booming voices carrying over the clanking of equipment and the rustle of canvas.
Of course, no one had seen fit to tell me when we would be marching. But it was evident that soon, we would be on the move, and I would have no other opportunity to put my own plans into place.
“Your Majesty?”
I turned to offer Previs a gentle smile, keeping my gaze low so he wouldn’t see the fury that likely burned across my face.
“Yes.”
“You want to know his plans.”
“Yes.”
“Then let us bargain.”
25
The Queen
It took time to move an entire war camp. Still, the hybrids were working quickly, the noise rising to a crescendo throughout the day as soldiers called to one another, horses and carts clattering past my tent. From the constant sound of rustling around me, it was clear some of the other tents were already being packed away.
I would likely only have one chance to speak to Zathrian. Once we left this place, we were marching to battle. Prisca leaving her cousin alive was foolish but entirely expected. And she would live to regret her mercy.
Thankfully, Previs was still the posted guard outside my tent during the day. At night, another guard took over—a grim-faced, gruff, older hybrid with a gray speckled beard who refused to even acknowledge me.
Previs had continued to lead me to the latrine and had even taken me to stretch my legs purely for some exercise. At one point, Marth had stomped over, leveling the guard with a cold look.
“What are you doing?”
“T-taking her to the latrine.”
Marth’s cold eyes had met mine. “I’mwatching you.”
I’d angled my head, looking back coolly. When I didn’t reply, he snorted, stalking away.
But the other soldiers grew used to seeing me walking through the camp, Previs by my side.
Twice now, we’d walked directly past the tent I was sure was holding Zathrian. Different guards had been posted outside, and all of them had looked at me as if I were a snake in the grass.
The bare bones of a plan came to mind.
Previs had grown lax, unlocking the manacles from my wrists and leaving them behind entirely. I’d made a point of letting him see the chafing and bruises they had caused when we’d walked a day earlier, wincing as I’d stroked the tender skin. And I’d kept my arm wound through his while we strolled, as if we were two friends taking a walk in a garden.
The idiot seemed to like that.
Fae iron didn’t affect humans the same way it did hybrids and fae. So, while the manacles were heavy and unwieldy, they didn’t dampen my power. The tiny amount of magic available to me remained entirely consistent.
But I could work with that.
As far as Previs was concerned, I had the smallest bladder in four kingdoms. But I needed each walk to plan my distraction. And he seemed more than happy to lead me to the latrine—as opposed to standing outside my tent in the sun.
All I needed was a simple diversion. For two days now, I’d been waiting for the tiniest distraction. Something I could do to draw the soldiers’ attention.
Each time we took our little walk, my gaze darted in every direction, my hold on Previs’s arm tightening until he cast me a concerned glance.
Panic began to burn a hole in my chest. I was running out of time. A flurry of activity had transformed the orderly encampment into organized chaos. The large command tent was already coming down, soldiers working in unison to fold heavy canvas and disassemble the supporting frames.
Most of the tents around us were being collapsed, each piece of canvas, every peg and pole were being efficiently packed, the hybrid soldiers’ movements precise. Bedrolls and personal belongings were being rolled up and stowed in packs, while tents and other supplies were loaded onto waiting carts. Soldiers yelled orders at one another, their booming voices carrying over the clanking of equipment and the rustle of canvas.
Of course, no one had seen fit to tell me when we would be marching. But it was evident that soon, we would be on the move, and I would have no other opportunity to put my own plans into place.
“Your Majesty?”
I turned to offer Previs a gentle smile, keeping my gaze low so he wouldn’t see the fury that likely burned across my face.
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