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Death would come for Katrien today, but not until the sun rose.

The eerie quiet of the war camp doubled the noise of every furtive step she took as she hurried down the rows of tents.

Her height and bulk had never made her one for sneaking, but she gave it her best shot, keeping her head low and her senses battle-wary.

The soldiers had been told last night that command’s mercy had granted them a full extra hour before the dawn horns would sound, but it hardly mattered for Kat, who like many of her brethren had not slept a wink.

The misty haze that preluded the sun’s rising was tinged with the scent of brimstone. It would only get worse in the light.

If questioned, she could probably fumble some excuse for her stealth.

Most of the troops were nursing well-earned hangovers from last night, others dozing off a marathon run at the camp’s Silk Row.

Really, there was only one person she couldn’t afford to be seen by, but as long as she took the right path, she’d make it back to her decade’s tent unscathed.

Just as that thought was settling, a sharp voice snapped, “Katrien!”

Kat sprang to attention, whirling to find her centurion, Mira Morgenstern, staring after her with bruised blue eyes that suggested, though rank divided them, they were equal in sleeplessness.

“You should be resting,” Mira said. There was a startling lack of reprimand in her voice.

Kat had been well-trained never to expect sympathy from her, and she didn’t know what to do with it, especially not on this fraught morning.

Before the relief could settle, Mira’s eyes narrowed.

“What are you doing out on this end of the camp?”

Kat reeled for an answer—a lie—between her sleeplessness and the shot of pure adrenaline that was her commanding officer catching her.

Over Mira’s shoulder, she spotted a looming tent crowned with a latticed pattern of feathers and latched onto it like a lifeline.

“I was praying,” Kat offered, nodding to the chapel and patting the golden token that hung from a chain around her neck.

On any other morning, the charade would be transparent.

In the three years Kat had served under Mira, her centurion had never once caught her seeking out the hosts—not for guidance, not for luck, not even for comfort.

If Kat had any interest in the heavens’ favor, the Aurean token she wore would be properly cultivated and brimming with angelic power.

Instead, it was nothing more than an ornament, the second place people looked after her size had drawn their eye.

But who could blame her for seeking out the hosts on a morning like this one?

If she was lucky, if the good life she’d lived was fitting in their eyes, she’d be welcomed into their fold later today, along with every other soldier in the vicinity.

Just beyond the horizon lay the Mouth of Hell and the Demon Lord’s foul citadel, and command had declared the full force of the seven assembled legions would be marching on it with no quarter.

Nothing less would do when the High King of Hell was on the verge of alchemizing antigold and rendering himself immune to Aurean power.

He would be unstoppable—though at the moment, with his scores of demonic generals, thousands of underlings fresh from the Mouth, and tens of thousands of thrall soldiers resurrected to fight in his name, Kat already wasn’t optimistic about their chances.

Even less so about her own personal odds of surviving the day on the front lines.

Though now that she thought about it, if she really wanted to get in good with the angels before they shook her hand, telling lies to her commanding officer wasn’t tipping the scales in the right direction.

And then there was the matter of how she’d actually spent last night.

For a moment, Mira held her gaze with icy stillness, and Kat was certain she’d been sniffed out. But maybe the hosts were on her side after all, because after a beat, her centurion gave her a terse, approving nod. “Finally decided to take my advice?”

It took a heroic effort to keep her expression from souring.

Mira wore ten Aurean tokens, each of them cultivated not just by her own effort but by generations of Morgensterns before her.

They’d been placed in her hands with inherent power that Kat could never hope to match, and Mira knew nothing of the effort it would take to start fresh from a single piece.

At least, that had always been Kat’s excuse, but it rang hollow even as she tried to muster the willpower to spit it out. Maybe she should have put more work into trying to draw her token’s power. Maybe if she had, she’d have a fighting chance on the battlefield today.

“If I could somehow cultivate overnight, that would be incredible,” Kat said instead, with as much diplomacy as she could manage. “But I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask the hosts for mercy.”

Mira’s lips pursed sympathetically. She took a step toward Kat, lifting one hand to set it firmly on her shoulder.

Kat fought the urge to bolt before her centurion got close enough to notice that Kat smelled less like incense, the mark of a long night spent in quiet contemplation in the chapel tent, and more like—

“Katrien,” Mira said solemnly. “You’re one of the finest soldiers I’ve ever had under my command.

Even if you never reached your potential as an Aurean, I’m proud to have fought by your side.

And if the worst comes to pass today, I’m sure the hosts will bless and protect you.

I was just heading to the chapel myself to begin attuning for the day ahead,” Mira added, glancing back over her shoulder at the tent.

Kat followed her gaze and immediately wished that the Mouth of Hell could get it over with and swallow her right away.

“Emory?” Mira called.

You weren’t supposed to come this way, Kat wanted to mouth at him, but instead she wrestled her face into what she hoped read as pleasant surprise as the man stiffened and fumbled a gesture that landed somewhere between a wave and a salute.

His hair was cut short enough that it barely looked rumpled, and the bags under his eyes were in-fashion enough not to stand out, if Kat and Mira were anything to go by.

All things that could be explained by a night of restless tossing and turning, and not the fact that the last Kat had seen of him was barely ten minutes ago, and he’d been gloriously naked.

“Centurion,” Emory said. “Kat,” he added and tugged noticeably on his collar.

Nothing for it. Kat wasn’t even going to make it to the battlefield today.

She could practically feel Mira’s confusion teetering toward suspicion through the hand her centurion still had anchored on her shoulder.

“What are you doing on this end of the camp?” Kat asked, trying to make “ I thought we agreed you’d go left” ring through in her tone.

But she couldn’t keep herself from grinning. It was breathtakingly unfair, the way the world felt bright and full of romance on the day she was going to leaveit.

Emory seemed to be fighting not to grin back, scuffing at the stubble on his cheek as if trying to smooth his features into obedience. “Ah well, the horns are still a ways away. I wanted to put a word in with the hosts before that,” he said, hitching his thumb at the chapel tent.

Maybe Kat should have prayed for real. Holy intervention might be the only way the two of them got out of this unscathed.

Mira’s brow was furrowed, no doubt chewing over the two of them producing the exact same excuse for the exact same question.

“I told him last night,” Kat blurted. “The chapel closer to the officer tents is bound to be less crowded this morning.”

In all likelihood, it was true. Aurean officers went to the chapel for quiet contemplation as they attuned their token arrays for the battle ahead.

The infantry, on the other hand, could only pray, and there were more of them.

The chapel tent closest to her decade was probably stuffed to bursting all night long.

Everyone had been desperate for comfort last night—whether it be from the hosts, a bottle, or a warm body.

She couldn’t be thinking of warm bodies right now.

Not when Mira was looking between the two of them appraisingly.

“This,” she said after a long, breathless moment of deliberation, “is why the two of you are the hinge of your decade. Possibly the best hinge pair in the century. You can’t train this kind of synchronicity.

The fate of Telrus relies on soldiers like you two. ”

Hosts above, their centurion sounded like she might burst into tears at the mere thought. “There’s only so much a coordinated battle pair can do—” Kat tried to interrupt, but Mira cut her off with a flick of her hand.

“Listen to me, Katrien. This is what’s going to keep the two of you alive today. I shouldn’t be saying this, but…” She glanced from side to side, then dropped her voice low. “As long as you stay focused, as long as you hold your line together like you always have, you’ll last until…”

It was strange, the way she trailed off then.

Kat had never known Mira to be anything other than ruthless and practical, and if anyone was going to be blunt about their inevitable demise, it was her.

So her next words couldn’t be something along the lines of until you meet an awful, bloody end at the hands of Hell’s legions.

And if that wasn’t the case, what did their centurion know that the two of them didn’t?

Emory’s head had tilted to an angle she knew well, and Kat was certain he’d caught the same strange implication in Mira’s silence. “Of course we’ll give it our all,” he said, meeting Kat’s gaze.

On any other morning, she’d make a face behind Mira’s back or saunter over and poke him in the ribs for sucking up to command.

But the weight of his eyes on her took her back to mere hours ago, to staring into the bonfire shoulder to shoulder as around them the camp filled with the sounds of soldiers choosing their final indulgences.

She’d been imagining herself burning on the tip of a demon general’s flaming sword, buried under a pile of thralls, no spear in her hand, no shield at her back, and she’d let the craving for a real sensation to counter it push her inch by inch until she’d breached the distance between them with barely more than a brush of her arm against his.

Emory’s warm brown eyes had snapped to hers immediately, full of that same clarity that was turning everyone around them into drunken fools, horny fools, or some combination of the two, and he’d said, “Let’s get out of here”—less with certainty, more like a dam had suddenly crumbled all at once and he was lost in the flood.

If the way he looked at her now was anything to go by, the waters were still raging—and it was only in the burgeoning light graying the horizon that Kat understood what a monumentally stupid thing the two of them had done.

Mira was right. Battle discipline held the century together.

Order was everything in the legions of Telrus, and its fulcrum in the decade was the hinge pair—the battle partners who led from the core of the formation.

Fraternization that threatened that discipline and focus was a grave offense, a disciplinary scar on your record that would follow you the rest of your days, precisely because it disrupted that synchrony they trained so desperately to achieve.

Emory was the shield to her spear, and together they made up the beating heart of the Third Century’s first decade.

For three years, they’d fought side by side, developing the perfect focus necessary to hold their line together at the fore.

His unwavering discipline had kept her alive for three years, and so it was inevitable, really, that in the desperate scramble for a distraction in the face of a certain end, he’d been the first thing she’d turnedto.

But if that end was less certain, then maybe they were doomed for other reasons—especially if Kat couldn’t look him in the eye without an obvious heat rising in her cheeks, one the waning night was doing less and less to hide.

Maybe Emory had the right idea.

Maybe she’d have been better off spending the night praying to the hosts.

“Well, don’t let me keep you from—” Kat tapped her token twice, then nodded to the chapel tent.

She tried to tell herself it was for the best, the way Emory’s face fell slightly as she turned her back and began to hustle toward the infantry section of the camp.

It was in the hosts’ hands now, and Kat only dared to ask for one thing more—if they could somehow do her a favor from beyond the Seal of Heaven and keep Mira in quiet contemplation long enough that their centurion never returned to her own tent.

There were few places for privacy in a war camp, especially in the infantry, where decades were quartered together ten to a tent.

But the officers had been summoned to a high command meeting around midnight, leaving their section eerily empty and their luxurious individual tents an opportunity too good to passup.

They’d broken Mira’s cot.

By Kat’s best estimates, she still had an hour until the horns sounded. It would be plenty of time to find a cold bucket of water and stick her entire head in—and maybe then she’d finally be ready to meet whatever fate the hosts had in store.