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Santorina waved a hand at the three men accompanying us and me. “You all injure yourselves so freely, it’s only rational you have a healer in attendance.”

They laughed, and a smile lifted my lips. “We don’t do it on purpose,” I said.

Rina shrugged. “Regardless.” She pulled the straps of her pack tighter and assessed the different factions of our group. “They will be fine here with the extra Bodymelders Brigiet has sent. You need me, Ophelia. And I need to be with you.”

She was right. We both really did need this.

Throwing my arms around one of my oldest friends, I exhaled. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” She squeezed me tightly.

Then, Lyria was hugging Tolek. “Be careful, baby brother. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Now where’s the fun in that,” Tol quipped. But when Lyria stepped out of their embrace and glared at him, he swore, “I won’t do anything unnecessarily reckless.”

Lyria sighed. “I supposed that’s the most I can ask for.” She crossed her arms. “I love you, Tolek.”

“Love you, too, Ria.”

Hearing them exchange those words squeezed my chest. He’d told me of their conversation, how they worked on finalizing her plans together, though he knew they were already tight. How they discussed their father and the pain the man bestowed upon them both—the wall now coming down brick by brick.

Giving them a moment, I turned to Malakai. “Take care of yourself.”

“Until the stars stop shining, Ophelia.”

Where those six words may have stung before, they were a soothing balm to scars of my past now. A familiar, welcome reminder in the face of a precarious goodbye.

“Until the stars stop shining,” I repeated. We both knew it didn’t mean what it once had. I knew Tolek understood that, too. It was a promise. To keep ourselves safe, to keep fighting these battles, and to see the other side together.

Part Four

Kratos

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Malakai

“Five days,” Lyria repeated. She tossed the crumpled piece of parchment atop the table. “We have five days until their attack. The storm will hit by then.”

Mila and Quilian had already begun muttering over the lists of legions pinned to the walls. Calculating who should be pulled back for the next few days to prepare for the charge on the front line. Who would remain on the second line for reinforcements. Which units of the infantry were best prepared for the fucking snow.

Jezebel and Erista were deep in conversation with Amara and Ricordan, discussing the lookout peaks. A small Mindshaper rebel force was prepared to stand with the Seawatchers in case Jezebel was able to tap into the warped power with their aid.

Lyria alone remained at the war board, fingers splayed across the wood as she scanned her map. In the two days since Ophelia and Tolek left, she’d spent most of her time here. She’d seemed a bit more relaxed until that mystique ink letter flared to life above the board, quick fingers snatching it.

I leaned across the table, snagging the note she’d tossed aside. It had those two words on it, but a series of symbols lined the bottom, whirls and triangles and slashes.

“Who sent this, Lyria?” I asked.

Her head snapped up as if only now noticing me. “One of my spies.”

I flipped the paper over. “You’re certain?” Her network had given us incorrect information before.

“Yes.” She nodded. “Those symbols at the bottom are code. So we always know who’s writing and where the intel is from. It’s a system from the first war. We use the?—”

“The what?”

Lyria sighed. “The wolves.”