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My entire body went numb. But our soldiers watched me from all directions. I couldn’t afford to show a hint of fear. Not a single drop of weakness. Forcing my trembling knees to straighten, I lifted my head, curling my lip at the sight of Regner’s army.

Lorian stepped closer, the warmth of his body a silent comfort.

“They’re still coming,” I whispered, knowing he would hear.

“Yes.”

Lorian had never once softened the truth to make it more palatable for me. He wasn’t about to start now.

But he would be by my side until the end. Of that, I had no doubt.

His eyes met mine. “It’s time.”

A chill slid over me as I donned the armor Lorian had commissioned for me.

My palms turned slick with sweat. Nausea slithered through my gut as I swept my gaze over our people, standing in lines that seemed to stretch for thousands of footspans—until I imagined double those numbers marching toward us.

My gaze found Rekja’s. The Gromalian king stared calmly back at me, refusing to give in to fear or hopelessness.

There was no separation between soldiers wearing Gromalian green stripes on their helmets and those who were not. Our people would fight side by side, and we would live or die by this decision.

Thousands of gazes still clung to my face. I could feel them. Could feel their hopes and fears.

Regner’s foot soldiers continued to file onto the shore. But Regner hadn’t been able to resist gilding their helmets. The sun glinted off the gold.

“That gold will make it easy to see who to kill,” Orivan said, stepping up next to me. Both he and Blynth had considered attacking now, while Regner was still forming his lines. But Rekja and Demos had won that argument.

We needed every second we could find. Because all of us were still holding out hope that reinforcements would arrive.

“Tor?” I asked.

“Safe,” Demos said. “He knows what to do. And he’ll wait for our signal.”

“Your Majesty!” someone yelled.

And that’s when I saw it. Even with the charm Telean had given me, it was impossible to tell what was stumbling toward us.

Or who.

I frowned, squinting. It was a man. A man who staggered on the sand, almost falling.

My breath caught in my throat, and I broke into a run.

Lorian plucked me out of the air. “No, Prisca.”

Vicer lunged forward, slamming into Demos, who blocked his way. Vicer let out a string of curses. “It’s Natan, you cold bastard.”

“Regner is waiting for you to go to him,” Demos snarled. “His archers are poised. We wait until he’s close enough that our wards can cover you.”

I squinted into the distance. Natan shuffled along so slowly, it was clear he was critically wounded.

“Get Tibris,” I choked out.

Movement behind me. Someone turned and ran.

“This was my call,” Demos said softly. “I told him to slow them down. Natan knew exactly what he was doing, Prisca. He knew the risks.”

I couldn’t speak. Not without tears rolling down my cheeks. And I wouldn’t allow our soldiers to see that. But gods, I wanted every single person in all four kingdoms to know that the reason Rekja’s army made it before Regner’s was because of the courageous man limping toward us.