My heart twisted at the uncertain fate of Clay and Gayle.
I shoved it aside to deal with later. For now, I studied my map of the foothills. Small towns huddled at the Andeluith’s base—the lower classes, unable to afford to move into the mountain. Under the threat of Vellos, I’d seen those villages emptied; those who lived there harbored deeper within the city.
I wondered if the opposite were true now.
“We have three Harvesters?” I set a stone on the map’s edge.
“Four accompanied us,” Fallione corrected.
“I want one placed at each of these villages.” With quick, jabbing motions, I pointed to the two smallest towns. “I need to know if there are Velli at the base or only in the city. How many, where they’re stationed. What the state of the manor is.”
“Consider it done.” He pushed off the hastily set-up table and disappeared into the crowd.
The Harvesters wouldn’t be far. My silent daggers in the night, they were more than assassins—they were spies who would hopefully slip beneath Tallon’s and Egath’s noses without detection.
Nienna stood beside me, spine rigid, hands clasped tight. When her gaze met mine, I knew she understood the gravity of Tallon’s position.
I bit down on my tongue, aware of ears straining too close. Our tent was being assembled behind us, but canvas was hardly soundproof.
Her cold fingers brushed my hand as she peered at the map, a quiet gesture of solidarity. I didn’t have to voice my concerns—or that I worried about Clay. She knew me.
“We cannot move until I know what’s in the Andeluith.” I shook my head, tracing the scrawled lines. “I will not send a messenger with the Velli there and risk welcoming one into my camp.”
Not when I wasn’t certain they had a Cruor. It would be a last resort, only if Tallon refused to come out to meet me on the plains.
Which wouldn’t surprise me.
“Why didn’t he flee Radaan?” she whispered, eyes scanning the distant mountains.
“He knows I won’t leave until I see him captured. Or dead.”
She hummed. “And he sees it as an opportunity to kill you?”
“I can’t imagine anything else.”
If Clay lived, he would try to use him against me.
Bile rose in my throat, heart slamming against my ribs. Elohios, could I watch my friend die for the sake of a nation? Knowing it was my doing? I had already lost Darius because of my recklessness. Between surrendering Radaan and Clay, I would have to choose Radaan. No other option existed.
But how much of me would survive that choice?
I bottled up my frustration, focusing on one step at a time. Once our tent was erected, we pulled the table inside. Greaves watched, his stare careful, scanning me for any sign of need.
When Fallione returned with Ronan, he informed me that the Harvesters would depart at sundown.
Time—the most precious commodity. And Tallon held the reserves.
We camped on the plains, with foothills between us. Our army was at a safe distance, dragons beyond the reach of his war machines.
But we were sitting out in the open. He holed up in Sol with enough stores to last for years. I had to lure him out—or get inside.
I couldn’t move without more information. My head pulsed with aggravation. I was stuck—and so close.
“I want Artorious in the clouds tonight.” Ronan dropped into a chair, glare fixed on my wife. “He’s dark enough to be mistaken for a shadow.”
“Would Tallon flank us?” Nienna asked, taking the seat next to me. “If he is hiding in Sol, there’s no reason to patrol the sky.”
“The closest pass is a day’s ride. All guarded with scouts on high alert,” Fallione said.
