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The weapons master nodded. ‘Outnumbered and very unlikely to be able to match the dynamics his forces will oppose us with.’

Talemir came to stand at Wilder’s side, his expression grave. ‘What have you been training for?’ he asked.

‘To hold the lines,’ Wilder replied. ‘Our only choice is to hold our own, and break theirs. Continue to break them. And once we decimate their frontlines, we smash them open from within.’

There had been no reports of wraiths or reapers in the opposing forces, and Wilder was not alone in his concern over that fact. Thea could hardly stand still, flitting about the war camp like lightning that didn’t know where to strike. Convinced that Artos was hiding the wraith forces, Talemir himself flew out to spy on the enemy’s march from overhead. He returned to them shaking his head. He too reported that there wasn’t a leathery creature in sight.

Hours later, as fresh snow fell around Wilder, settling in his hair and on his shoulders, he looked out onto the misty moors. By this time tomorrow, they’ll be stained red and black with blood.

He knew the odds they were facing – forces with divided loyalty, the quality of soldiers varying from one person to the next. Orders meant nothing if one link in the chain faltered. They had Warswords and shadow-touched and storm wielders, but… none of them had fought together as a single unit. And their lower ranks were made up of opposed men. None were trained like Thezmarrians. None were capable of complicated fighting on the field.

Against an army of cursed men, monsters and evil tyrants, how could they win? Artos had been preparing for this for decades. His army had been specifically created for this purpose. The King of Harenth had chosen the playing field… Who knew how long he’d been lurking in the shadows, readying for this moment?

Wilder remained there until Thea found him, coming to stand at his side and survey tomorrow’s battleground with him.

She drew a long, steadying breath, her gaze unflinching as she stared out onto the moors. ‘We smash them open from within,’ she said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

THEA

It was the eve of battle, and Thea couldn’t shake the nagging sensation that they were missing something. She had expected to smell the acrid scent of burnt hair drifting through the air at any moment, yet it didn’t come. Why would Artos not use the wraiths at his disposal? Or the reapers? It didn’t make any sense.

She said as much to Esyllt in the command tent while they forced down what would likely be their last meal for a long while. The weapons master nodded in understanding, a far cry from the prickly man who’d once barked orders at her and made her polish shields in the armoury.

‘Artos likely needs the wraiths and reapers to hold Tver,’ he explained. ‘Some of his forces will have stayed behind to keep the castle protected.’

‘From who?’ Thea pressed. ‘He must know that all our forces are here. No one can take Tver unawares from the north.’

Esyllt shrugged. ‘He may be expecting some resistance from Thezmarr. He might not know I escaped with those who remained loyal. There are also Guardians still stationed throughout Harenth and Tver who could rally to our cause. They could attack Notos.’

Thea raised a brow. ‘And how likely is that?’

‘Not very,’ Esyllt admitted. ‘The fact remains, we can only approach this battle with what we know. And what we know right now is that the wraiths aren’t in his forces. Howlers, yes, arachnes, also yes, but not wraiths, which at least keeps his attack grounded.’

Thea gave a frustrated sigh. ‘This doesn’t feel right.’

‘Welcome to war, Zoltaire,’ Esyllt told her. ‘It never feels right.’

Those words made her blood run cold. Wishing he’d offered some notion of comfort instead, she bid him goodnight and went to find her sisters.

Anya and Wren were with Drue and Adrienne in the latter’s tent. The women were perched on various objects around the cramped space, talking quietly. It was much smaller than the command tent, but cosier.

‘Thea.’ Wren smiled as the tent flap dropped behind her.

‘I’m worried,’ Thea said without preamble.

Anya nodded. ‘As are we all. I’d be concerned if you weren’t.’

Looking around, Thea observed a notable absence. ‘Has anyone seen Audra?’ she asked.

The women exchanged troubled glances.

‘No,’ Wren answered. ‘She’s probably with Farissa, checking our alchemical supplies on the eastern front.’

Drue offered Thea a flask, which she gratefully accepted. Taking a swig of fire extract, she sat herself on the end of Adrienne’s cot. ‘What are we talking about?’

Drue waved a hand in Wren’s direction. ‘We were just discussing how we need to find Wren some armour. She might not be swinging a blade, but she’ll be on the field wielding her potions and concoctions alongside us.’