“They’ve grown accustomed to the dragons. They no longer spook at every wingbeat. Yet if a beast turned on them, composure might fracture.”
“My men must trust their horses with their lives.”
On the plains, cavalry decided wars. In the mountains, battles fractured into narrow skirmishes. Guarding passes or holding the foothills demanded strong mounts.
“I have spoken at length with Prince Ronan. He agreed to let a dragon sleep among the horsemen. Trust will deepen as we march. Provided the wildling refrains from devouring anyone, I believe they can fight side by side.”
“And the men?”
The greater concern. I would not command soldiers who fled at the first blaze of dragonfire. They would watch beasts scorch their friends and brothers. When I ordered them forward beside those war machines, I needed certainty that they would hold.
“You can rely on them.” No hesitation touched Fallione’s voice. “Where faith in dragons falters, faith in you fills the gap. They believe they stand on the correct side of history.”
A low hum left me as I moved into the corridor. “Any sign of Velli in Reem yesterday?”
A tired breath answered first. “No confirmed sightings. No reliable accounts.”
But I heard the words he didn’t speak. The creatures of our nightmares had breached Radaan. They had been welcomed into our cities, my people forced to accept them. Radaanians could overwhelm them in numbers, but it was the broken trust—the constant anxiety of seeing a stranger and wondering if they would rip your neck out—that unsettled the common folk.
And I was partly to blame. I had brought Egath to Reem. I could try to assuage my guilt by claiming it was for the sake of the Treaty, but I hadn’t sent my own ambassador yet. Too much was happening, and I was too leery to send just anyone. It was my fault Vellos first crossed the border—and now they hid in the darkness like rats.
“Final count from the Craggs?”
“One hundred fifteen. Possibly more. The watch grew lax during our absence.”
Of course it had.
“Updated headcount?”
“Seventy-six.”
Withering fields—that left too many unaccounted for. A single unrestrained Velli could raze a village. If any were Cruor, the thought alone soured my stomach.
My dreams were haunted by memories of fighting them. But they weren’t nearly as terrifying as the orders I had to give when one was spotted on the battlefield. Such creatures were rare, and for good reason—I doubted even their own people trusted a being with the power to force a body to move at its whim.
“Then we find the remainder.” I shed my emotions. Stone walls settled over my mind. A war council awaited.
The morning fractured into motion the moment I reached the lower halls. Papers stacked faster than they vanished. Lists. Orders. Pardons. Reports sealed with wax still warm beneath my thumb. Ink stained the side of my hand, the scent sharp and metallic.
Necessary work.
Running a kingdom did not grant indulgence. It demanded sacrifice, piece by piece, until little remained but duty. All for the betterment of my people.
Yet when I claimed the seat at the head of the war table, something fierce stirred beneath my ribs. Bac had tested my patience for years. The thorn would finally be pulled free.
Noblemen crowded the viewing seats where Nienna once sat, silks rustling, whispers threading through the chamber. Only four men joined me at the table.
General Xzaphin commanded the mounted forces. Lieutenant General Uthiel and General Arphix sat rigid in uniform, silver leaves stitched into their shoulders. Arphix watched in silence, still as a drawn blade. He reminded me of Needle, the Master Harvester stationed in the far corner. Both men guarded their words as if each cost coin.
Fallione took his place at my right. My chest tightened at Clay’s absence among the ranks. He had never worn a general’s crest, yet he served in ways few could. He was my friend.
And I would see him returned.
“We are here to determine how we secure the traitor Tallon.” My voice carried clean across the chamber. “This ends swiftly. Efficiently. I will not ignite another war with Vellos.”
Whispers rose, tangled and sharp. Disbelief. Hunger for blood.
Too much balanced on a blade’s edge. I would not gamble my life and leave Nienna to raise our child alone. I would not cross the Craggs again and abandon Radaan to its own defenses. Eldeiade called restraint weakness. Responsibility rested with Tallon and myself. Once he stood before me, judgment would follow. Dragons would guard the mountain passes, and any Velli who dared step across would meet flame.
