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“They’ve fenced the Ledge-dwellers in,” Ryon whispers. “Some of the Terrsaw guards too.”

There is a brief silence. “What does it mean?” Tash asks.

“One of two things,” Dawsyn answers. “Either a battle ensues as we speak between Adrik and Alvira, and the guards are losing.”

“If there were a battle nearby, we’d hear it,” Rivdan says. “This empty land echoes.”

“Which makes the second possibility the most likely,” Dawsyn says. “It seems Alvira did not cede to our side, and the dissenting guards have been overpowered.”

As she says it, they hear the swoop overhead as more Glacians take flight, circling high, awaiting an order. They glide leisurely, wasting away the remaining daylight.

“So, we fight the Glacians…andthe Queen’s loyal guard?” Brennick frowns, his voice thick with disbelief. “Fucking hell.”

Ryon speaks to Dawsyn now, though his gaze doesn’t meet hers, as though he’d prefer not to hear her answer. “Can you break through the fence?”

Dawsyn narrows her eyes, the ax in her hand answer enough.

“It’s a game of distraction then,” Ryon says, eyeing the gathering wings above them. “I’m fairly certain that once we round the fence, we’ll find Adrik and that fucking queen on the other side, shaking hands.”

“So, we attack,” Rivdan says plainly, his sword turning over in his grip. Even in the dark, the act is menacing. “By wing or on foot?”

“Both,” Ryon replies, his sight stuck on those above, his jaw strained. “We split in two and send half to the sky.”

“And me?” Hector asks, his shoulder bumping into Ryon’s.

“Make yourself useful, Ledge boy,” Ryon grins at him. “Go get your people.”

“Make it quick,” Tasheem adds, shaking her head as she draws a sword from her back sheath. “We no longer have numbers on our side.”

“There are a hundred people in that pen,” Dawsyn says, looking skyward once more. “And they’ve been waiting fifty years for an opportunity to tear Glacians to shreds.”

“Dawsyn, take Hector. Salem, Abertha and Esra can help. Get them out as quickly as you can. There won’t be much time.”

“I’ll take ten to the sky,” Brennick says now. “You’ll need more on the ground.”

“Wait for my call,” Ryon tells him. “I’ll distract Adrik for as long as I can.”

The sun falls further, urging them onward, and firelight illuminates in the distance. Ryon glances once more to Dawsyn, conveying what he needn’t tell her, that their chances are now likely futile, the risk great. “Ready?”

She nods to him. She turns without saying the words that choke her.

They have said what they need to already.

Crouching, she and the others near the border of the clearing, leaving the Glacians behind.

She feels the relentless thrum of her pulse, grips her ax, and waits. “Will you do something for me, Hector?” she murmurs, making her voice so quiet, Salem, Esra and Abertha do not hear.

He raises his brows, ice-blue eyes piercing hers through the dark. “Anything, Dawsyn.”

“When it starts, take the Ledge children into the trees,” her voice is thick with urgency. “Salem and Esra cannot fight. Abertha is too young. Take them with you and run. Do not look back.”

Hector closes his eyes for moment, turning his head away. When he looks back at her, unshed tears shine in his eyes. But his jaw is set. “And after?” he whispers. “Where will I find you when it is done?”

Dawsyn brushes his cheek, catches the first droplet on the tip of her thumb as it falls. She thinks about how his face has hardly changed since they were children. “I won’t be far,” she tells him, though even to her, it sounds flimsy. An unlikely contingence. “I’ll never be far,” she promises.

And this, at least, she means.

CHAPTERFIFTY-FOUR