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“What?”

Across the room, Mila laughed, and I tried to ignore the smile the sound brought to my face, meeting her eye quickly before going back to the matter at hand.

“The wild wolves.” Lyria sank into her chair, leaning back. “The animals of our world are smart, Malakai. They’re loyal to their God and gifted in return. The wolves scamper among the enemy and gather intel; then they direct it back to us.”

“They talk to our army?”

“Not talk so much as lay their paws on a map and signal. It’s incredible, really.” A crooked smile lifted her lips. “They’re our secret force of spies, communicating back to our soldiers hidden across the continent.” Her head tilted, remembering. “And they’re great comfort when you’re lonely.”

I guessed a furry companion wasn’t the worst company, especially for a warrior stationed in isolation as a spy.

“So, wolves…like Rebel?” I asked.

“Yes, exactly like Rebel. Though he’s a pup, so we’ve never used him formally, but he has the instincts. I told Barrett when he first brought him here. I was wary, but that wolf is attached to him, so I trust him.”

“Okay,” I relented, not because I understood or agreed, but because no matter how we’d received the intel, we had it. And Lyria remained frantic. “Then let’s plan our strategy.”

Those dark slashes of ink stared up at me. Five days.

“Fucking hell,” Ronders said, wiping his brow on his tunic as we dumped the next round of sand bags together and turned to gather more.

I heaved another from the wagon over my shoulder and carted it to its place. These things weighed forty pounds each. Sweat built along my shoulders and spine; I was finally combatting the fucking chill of these southern mountains. Up here on the archer lookouts, where the wind whipped at your flesh, it was even colder.

“Just a few more.” I patted him on the shoulder, my eye catching a warrior behind him, who haphazardly tossed a sandbag to the floor. “Hey! Be sure you’re stacking those as General Lovall instructed. Like laying bricks, three high around the edge.”

“Got it, sir!” he called back. The formality zipped through me.

Ronders and I returned to the assembly line, hoisting the next bags over our shoulders. The wagon runner retreated down the mountains to fill her haul again. It was a tedious fucking job, but we had all been given them to prepare for siege. Some were laying sandbags to reinforce weaker points of the mountain walls between camp and the front line or they were up here with me, arranging them carefully around the edges of the Seawatchers’ lookout points.

Once we were done, a new team would move in to ensure the catapults were tested after their last battle, flammable oils and rocks stocked. Archers were the first defense, Seawatchers the most accurate shot, but we were using all advantages.

Of course, there was only so much we could do now with the storm hitting soon. The planned attack was still three days away, and we were praying to the Angels for protection.

“Do you really think this is all worth it?” Ronders asked as we dropped the last haul.

“What’s worth it?” My gaze swept across the line of bags again. I kicked one with my boot, satisfied when it didn’t budge.

“This.” The Turrenian Mystique waved a hand at the stream of warriors around us. “Will this matter? Stop them?”

My head snapped up. I often forgot how little the greater masses knew about the cause of this war. They saw an Engrossian siege, watched the death toll rise, and thought it was all Kakias vying for the mountains.

They did not know of her immortality ploy.

Had no concept of how she’d abused a deal with the dark pools or the havoc that magic could wreak on the continent should it be unleashed.

“It is worth it.” I nodded, looking out over the landscape. From this vantage point, the view spanned for miles, snow-covered peaks seeming to ripple with power. Subtle trails dug along them, bare trees littering the dips into valleys and dotting the jutting tips sporadically until they stretched to the gray sky. “The Mystique manifesto rests in guarding these mountains. It’s what we’ve been responsible for since Damien claimed this land. I do think we stand a chance against the queen’s army, but even if I didn’t…” I shrugged. “Are we not to try?”

Ronders opened his mouth to respond, but a slow clapping filled the silence instead.

From the shadows, Jezebel emerged, dressed head to toe in sleek black leathers that were definitely not her usual garb. She approached with a sly smile, hands not ceasing their drawling applause until she stood right before me.

“Said like a true leader,” she teased.

Rolling my eyes, I turned back to Ronders and dismissed him. “I’ll see you down at the mess.”

Once he disappeared among the flood of warriors on this shift making their way to the dinner hall, Jezebel walked to the edge of the lookout. Aside from meetings, I’d barely seen her since Ophelia left. Jezebel and Erista had spent time prepping her magic in secluded areas—whatever that meant.

As she toed the sandbags, the next team fluttered around, restocking supplies. I scraped my hand through my hair, watching her test the defenses I’d purposely taken responsibility for, knowing she would be stationed up here.