Sol. How deep had they delved?
“And those mountain tops are far too steep for Velli to climb.”
“The only thing capable of crossing the Craggs is the goats.” I pinched my nose. Sol went deep, tunnels growingwith the populace. Would Tallon dig? Pull Vellosthroughthe mountains?
“Gyrak can fly above it.”
“It’s too high.” Nienna’s rebuke cut sharp, earning a glare. “I’ll not risk Draconia’s heir to prove a point.”
“What about reconnaissance?” Ronan leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Use your dragons, Nienna.”
“They stay grounded until we hear from the Harvesters.” The finality in my voice silenced him. “We can’t rush into this. Tallon is trapped between us and an unforgiving range. He has nowhere to go.”
“And neither do you,” the prince quipped, gaze cutting to me. “Let me scout the Craggs. Watch the sky. You’re wasting power sitting here like a gull on the sea.”
Rage simmered in my bones. “I fought in these mountains for twenty years—longer than you’ve lived. Don’t pretend you’ll find a path I don’t know.”
“Twice my age,” he leaned forward, embers dancing at his fingertips, “and still you couldn’t control your son–”
“Prince Ronan,” Fallione bellowed, stepping between us. “See yourself out. Wait to be summoned by Queen Nienna.”
He slammed his chair back and stormed out.
“I’m going to kill him,” I muttered. “At this rate, it will be before Tallon.”
“He’s eager to fight.” She pressed her lips together, leaning closer to study the map. “His only experience was burning the ships off our coast. He sees dragons as weapons and wants them used.” Her gaze searched mine, worry deepening the lines around her mouth. “As do I. They stay grounded for now, but we would be remiss to keep them earthbound long.”
“Sol is the only place that can withstand dragonfire,” I said with a sigh. Whether Tallon planned it or Egath, they’d chosen well. Strategy favored patience.
“Don’t forget the riders.” She caught her lip between her teeth. “They match the Velli—you saw it during negotiations.”
“And if there are more than five in Sol?”
She shook her head. “There has to be a way to draw him out.”
“Tomorrow.” I sighed. “Tomorrow will tell.”
Regret and worry kept me awake. Not concerned over Tallon, but that I had dragged my wife and unborn child into this mess.
I would be pulled away. I couldn’t stay with her, not on the battlefield. But how could I leave her? How would I let her out of my sight, knowing monsters roamed Radaan’s plains?
She finally dozed in the darkest hour, the camp at its quietest. Her breaths stretched long and deep, brows twitching in sleep. Soft lips flinched in a frown, her arm stiffening. I eased my hold around her, careful not to influence her dream. Whatever haunted her mind would haunt me tenfold.
If a Cruor had reached Sol—if one somehow made it over the Craggs—it would be brutal.
The Call of Death echoed in my ears. The horn reserved for times those monsters appeared on the battlefield, dooming my soldiers. Disgust and guilt churned my stomach. I loathed that sound. More than anything, I didn’t want to raise that black horn.
If a Cruor made it to the fight, every bleeding man risked falling on his sword. It was unfair. Brutal. As a king, to order men to end their lives over a scratch—or a drop. That was all they needed to take control.
I learned early on how to shoulder the blame, to bear a widowmaker’s burden. When one appeared at Tal, we had to attack our friends—our brothers. Half our forces turned on us,driven by a single Velli’s influence. It was the only time the battle pushed back to our medics and encampment.
Claydon fought beside me that day, bloodied from fallen soldiers. He dropped his herbs to lift a sword. It surprised me how fast a nobleman in a medic’s apron adapted to the blade—but that day sealed our friendship.
And now he was at their mercy.
Steel clanged in the camp, voices murmuring in hushed conversation. Greaves rolled over, his bedroll between ours and the door. Stretching an arm above his head, he grimaced, easing his back. His gaze met mine in silent understanding. Neither of us wanted to stir from our rest, but duty called. His eyes flicked to Nienna in my arms, and I swore his face softened, warming to her.
Without a word, he began stretching. Muscles bunched beneath his skin, lean and honed, not for show but from experience. Years of fighting trained more than his body—war sharpened his mind. He knew how to fight the Velli.
