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RHARRETH STOOD withhis army at his back and his wife at his side, and faced his usurping cousin and his army across the narrow, rocky ground separating them.

The morning breeze brushed against his face and his hands, the only skin exposed by the leather armor Ezrec had provided. The snow crunched beneath his boots, the top layer sparkling and iced due to the frigid temperatures overnight. His breath puffed into a cloud in front of his face.

Beside him, Melantha stood straight, her chin held high. She was dressed in a leather tunic and skirt over her dark red, wool dress. Those were the only pieces Ezrec’s men had been able to size down for her on short notice.

To Rharreth’s left, the Gulmorth River roared deep in its gorge, the spray coating the walls of the canyon with a sheet of ice and icicles as long as Rharreth was tall.

Across the gorge, the elven and human army stretched in either direction as far as Rharreth could see. The Tarenhieli-Escarlish army blocked Drurvas from trying to out-flank Rharreth’s army by cutting through Tarenhiel, and they provided a silent, menacing witness to what Rharreth was about to attempt. Hopefully, their presence would convince Drurvas that a Dulraith was his only option.

At the front of the elven-human army, King Weylind stood in his dark green armor with Laesornysh in matching green, padded leather armor at his side. Interestingly enough, Princess Elspetha stood next to Laesornysh, her bright red hair standing out against the blue accents of her padded fighting leathers.

At her side stood King Averett, flanked by Princes Julien and Edmund. All of them wore plain, brown leather tunics embossed with a crown over an upright sword.

At least the Escarlish-Tarenhieli army looked impressive. Behind Rharreth, his makeshift army stretched into a semicircle. The front row was formed of Ezrec’s warriors and the warriors from a few of the other families that remained loyal to Rharreth.

But the rest of Rharreth’s army was made of normal citizens carrying whatever weapon they could get their hands on. Rharreth recognized Mymrar, who had helped them in their escape from Osmana, along with a few of the other men and women that he and Melantha had helped in Osmana. Others were common citizens from the scattered towns and villages and strongholds, even some from the strongholds under the control of warrior families supporting Drurvas.

Drurvas might have the support of most of the warrior families, but Rharreth had the support of most of the common people.

Unfortunately, in a war, the support of the common people would only get Rharreth so far before they were wiped out due to lack of training.

Rharreth drew his sword and laid it flat across his palms, the sign that he wanted to talk under truce.

With a smirk, Drurvas drew his ax from its sling across his shoulders and held it out flat as well. He sauntered forward into the empty space between the two armies, his stride sure and confident.

Why would he not be confident when he had the bulk of Kostaria’s army at his back, all well-armed and well-trained.

If this came to a war, it would get bloody, and the only winner would be Tarenhiel, which would probably breathe a sigh of relief at a weakened and starving Kostaria.

Holding Drurvas’s gaze, Rharreth strode forward, still holding his sword flat. When he stood only a few feet from Drurvas, he halted. “Well, cousin, have you come to surrender to the true king of Kostaria? It seems all of your attempts to kill me were unsuccessful, thanks to the power of my wife’s healing magic.”

Drurvas’s smirk twisted for a moment, as if he wanted to scowl but did not want to give Rharreth the satisfaction of reacting. “Yes. So I heard. A pity you did not take your opportunity to die quickly and quietly as befitting a weakling like yourself. You have gone running to your Tarenhieli and Escarlish allies like a dog with your tail between your legs, showing that you are no true king of Kostaria.”

Rharreth stuffed down the heat building in his chest. He could not let Drurvas get a rise out of him. “The armies of Tarenhiel and Escarland have gathered due to word of your actions and the instability you have caused in Kostaria. They are here to merely witness the outcome of our confrontation and will not interfere unless you decide to attack them.”

“I would argue that you are the one who provoked Tarenhiel and Escarland by bringing our war to the border instead of keeping it in Osmana as befitting a fight between honorable warriors.” Drurvas gave a light shake of his head, as if he could not believe the depths to which Rharreth had fallen. “And then you used deception to escape in the night. We are trolls, not the weak, tricky elves. Though, it seems you have become very cozy with them.”

As he said that last word, Drurvas glanced past Rharreth toward Melantha with a twist to his mouth.

Rharreth curled his fingers over his sword, heat building inside his chest and begging for him to lash out. It would be so satisfying to take up the hilt of his sword and swipe that smirking head from Drurvas’s shoulders.

But Drurvas would block the swing before it came to that, and Rharreth’s actions in breaking the truce before all these witnesses would dishonor him and disqualify him from ever regaining the throne.

Instead, Rharreth glared back and did not say anything. He did not trust himself to speak, and it seemed wiser to let Drurvas get out his melodramatic mocking here and now before Rharreth challenged him.

If anything, Drurvas’s smirk widened. “I see you have the Rindrin and Gruilveth family warriors at your back. I am sure they will be thankful to learn their sons survived their little mission to deceive my trackers, though I do not think they are enjoying my hospitality.”