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Luc woke suddenly.

He still slept with the handkerchief Ava had given him on his pillow—it had saved him from more than one assassination attempt—and he crushed it in his fist as he sat up.

Ava.

He dressed quickly, pulling on the shirt she had embroidered for him and stepping out into the misty predawn.

The first light of the sun lit the eastern sky pink and orange, and gave the mist a strange, golden glow.

He recognized this feeling. He’d given in to its call many times after he and Ava had parted, walking out of camp to stare in the direction of Grimwalt.

This time, though, he headed south, weaving through the close-pitched tents.

They had left the carts and wagons on the plain, protected by a small cohort of guards, and even so, he felt pleased with how many they were.

More than he had ever dreamed.

He had taken the scarf Ava had given him and gone for a wander last night in the hills, but although he’d heard a few calls in the distance, he didn’t see any evidence of a hiding army.

The calls were probably scouts, patrolling the hills for signs of the Rising Wave approach.

They would be looking in the wrong direction.

The Rising Wave had swung north west, and was now crouched on the far side from where they were expected.

He reached the edge of the camp and kept going, into the thicker mist lower down in the shallow valley.

The sound of a horse blowing through its nostrils had him going still.

One moment it was simply swirls of white, and then suddenly Ava was there, looking at him from astride her mount.

He felt a sense of absolute lightness as she slid from her saddle and leaped into his arms.

He kissed her, arms tight around her as he held her off the ground.

She gasped as she pulled back, holding his face between her hands. ““Are Oscar and Deni here yet?”

“No.” He carefully looked her over.

She seemed tired but uninjured.

“I beat them here, then.” She gave a wan smile.

Someone shouted behind them, and Luc turned, his body shielding hers, to find Sybyl and Rafe looming out of the mist.

“Did you know she was coming?” Rafe asked, astonished, and Luc shook his head, but didn’t elaborate.

Sybyl walked up to them and reached for her horse’s reins. “I don’t recognize this one,” she said, patting the horse’s neck.

“I stole it.” Ava leaned on Luc’s shoulder, and he could hear the exhaustion in her voice.

“Come get something to eat and drink, and you can tell us about it.” He put his arm around her and walked her to his tent. She stood, looking a little lost, and he drew her over to the table, sat her down and went back outside to fetch her some hot tea.

He could see the dark bruises beneath her eyes.

“Avasu.” The general peered into the tent, and Luc gestured her in.

Ava looked up at them both over the rim of her cup. “The Kassian have bought thirty flares. They’re planning to launch them from these hilltops at the Rising Wave.”