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Closing my eyes, I searched for the unique, springy and featherlight imprint that belonged to Delano. Finding it, I opened the pathway. Delano’s response was immediate, a touch against my mind. Meyaah Liessa?

We are nearing the gates now, I told him.

We are with you.

I opened my eyes. “Delano and the others know where we are.”

Both Emil and Kieran lifted shields from the sides of their horses. A handful of guards visibly patrolled, but I knew there were more, likely on the ground below the Rise. But for those on the battlements, the glare of the sun was directly in their path. They had yet to become aware of us.

That would soon change.

“Hear that?” Kieran inclined his head with a frown.

At first, I didn’t hear anything except the flutter of wings in the trees above and the call of birds, but then I heard the distant yelling and then shouts of pain.

My heart sped up. “It must be those still trying to leave.”

“Sounds like a sizable crowd, which explains why so few guards are on the Rise,” Emil noted, lifting his helmet and sliding it on. “For now.”

Kieran looked over at me. “You still want to give them a chance?”

No.

I really didn’t.

That taste had gathered in my mouth again. The one that came from that shadowy, cold place inside me. The taste of death. It coated my throat as I looked up at the guards. They had to know what was being done to cause those pained shouts. I wanted to strike out.

But that wasn’t the plan.

“Yes.” I nudged Setti forward, and they followed, shields at the ready as we broke through the trees, entering the cleared land below the Rise.

A guard near a tower spotted us quickly. He swung an arrow in our direction. “Halt!” he shouted, and several guards whipped around, nocking arrows stored in the parapet. “Do not come any closer.”

Setti pranced restlessly as I guided him to a stop. Adrenaline coursed through me, ramming my heart against my ribs. My skin hummed as the eather throbbed in response, sending a series of shivers across the back of my head and over the nape of my neck. Somehow, I managed to keep my voice steady, even as dread, anticipation, and fear collided. “I want to speak with the Commander of the Rise.”

“Who the hell are you to make such a demand?” another guard yelled as I opened my senses, letting them stretch toward the guards.

“Perhaps they do not see the crests on the shields,” Kieran murmured, and Emil’s shield muffled his snort. “Or you should’ve worn your crown.” A pause. “Like I suggested.”

The crown was where it belonged, beside the one meant for the King.

My hand tightened on the reins. “Tell your commander that the Queen of Atlantia wishes to speak with him.”

The guards’ shock was an icy splash against the roof of my mouth. “Bullshit,” one of them exclaimed, but I also sensed great unease. They recognized the white of my clothing and what that symbolized. They had to know we were coming. “No Queen would be stupid enough to march right up to our gates.”

Kieran glanced over at me, his brows raised.

“Perhaps none would be so daring,” I suggested.

“Nah. You ain’t no Queen. Just two Atlantian bastards and one Atlantian bitch,” the light-haired guard said.

“At some point,” Emil said under his breath, “I hope we kill that one.”

The snap of the bowstring was deafening, silencing my response.

Kieran moved quickly, his reflexes far more honed than any mortal’s. He lifted his shield within the span of a heartbeat. The arrow smacked off its surface.

“They shot at you!” I exclaimed.

“Yes, I’m aware of that.” Kieran lowered his shield.

My head swung back to the Rise, anger building. “Do that again, and you will not like what happens.”

“Stupid bitch.” The guard laughed, reaching for another arrow. “What are you going to do?”

“Stop!” A guard raced across the battlement, grabbing the archer’s arm. He yanked the arrow from his hand. “You jackass,” he said as the guard pulled his arm free. “If that’s really her, it’ll be your head on a spike.”

If he fired another arrow, he wouldn’t live long enough to be impaled to any spike.

“I want to speak to the commander,” I repeated.

“You have my attention,” a voice boomed a second before a man appeared at the top of the Rise, the white mantle flowing from his shoulders a symbol of his position. “I’m Commander Forsyth.”

“Well, look at that,” Kieran said. “He came with friends.”

He’d arrived with a lot of his friends. Dozens of archers rushed the battlement, arrows at the ready.

“The Queen of Atlantia?” Forsyth dropped a booted foot on the edge of the Rise and leaned forward, resting an arm on his bent knee. “I heard rumors you were in Massene. Not sure I believe it then or now.”