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“What the fuck?” the guard cried when it grazed his cheek before embedding in the wall behind him. He whipped around, sword half-drawn when he saw her. His face visibly paled, and he took a step back.

“What the hell is going on?” asked the guard on the opposite side of the gate. “Who the fuck are you?”

Razik’s large stature hid her smaller frame from the guard, and when Eliza glanced up at him, he was giving the guard the same bored once over he gave everyone else.

“General— Eliza. What are—” At the fiery glare she sent the guard, he audibly swallowed. “Is the, uh…prince expecting you?” He winced as he said ‘prince.’ Likely at the flames that burst to life at her fingertips.

“This is more of a surprise visit,” Eliza said with a razor-sharp smile. “And it is going to stay that way.”

“We, uh—” She turned slowly to the other guard, who was still eyeing Razik.

“Spit it out, Anton,” she snapped.

His eyes widened. Anton had been one of the newest members of their forces before everything had gone to shit. He’d been good in the sparring rings—exceptionally skilled—which is likely how he’d already earned a position at the front gates. But even if that hadn’t been the case, she would have remembered his name. She knew all of her warriors. Anton just hadn’t been around long enough to know that. He also wasn’t seasoned enough to have earned a position at the front gates yet.

The soldier scratched at the back of his neck, eyes dropping to the ground. “We aren’t—”

“No. Try again,” she interrupted.

His light brown eyes snapped back to hers. “What?”

Thiswas why he shouldn’t be a guard at the main gate yet.

“You do not let the people at the front gate know you are intimidated by them. You are the first line of defense for your prince. No one gets past these gates by intimidation tactics. Try again,” she demanded.

Anton’s perplexed gaze flicked to the other guard. The other guard, Conrade, had been with the Fire Court forces for a few decades, and he clearly recalled that interfering with her training resulted in unwanted consequences as he kept quiet.

Eliza snapped her still flaming fingers at Anton, sparks flying as she did so. “Let’s go. I have a throne to take. If you plan to keep your position once I do, you damn well better show me I can trust you as my first line of defense.”

Razik audibly sighed beside her. “If she sits on that throne, and you let someone in who hurts her, she will be the least of your worries. Shoulders back, chin up. Draw a weapon. Look her in the eye when you demand—not ask—what her business is here.”

Anton looked back and forth between them before he did exactly what Razik had said. His back straightened, a hard look filling his face as he stared back at Eliza. “You aren’t entering these gates until you state your business.” It was a harsh tone, and she saw the flash of flame in his irises, a nice subtle touch.

“Better,” she said. “Now get me the stand-in commander. He can escort me himself.”

At that, the uncertainty flashed in Anton’s eyes once more. “He is a seraph, General.”

“Even better.”

“He does not like to be—”

“Do not mistake my moment of teaching as negotiation. Summon him, Anton. Now.”

“Yes, General.” He reached up, drawing a fire message that immediately disappeared. He looked like he was about to fidget, then caught himself, straightening his posture once more. She nodded in approval before turning to Conrade.

“Why the fuck are you all blindly following Bastien?”

“It was that or death, General,” Conrade answered, his gaze fixed on the ground.

“And where do your loyalties lie?”

“With Prince Aditya. With you, if you take the throne,” he answered.

“Tell me, Conrade. Who should I spare when I enter these gates?”

“That is not my call to make, General.”

“No, it is not,” she agreed. “But am I asking you to tell me if there are any, aside from Bastian and the seraphs, that have turned against the Fire Prince of their own choosing.”