That worry joined the familiar, endless shadow pressing down on my shoulders. I summoned a cup of her peppermint tea, brewed with saltwater, to be sent to our tent. Its warmth would remind her she had me looking out for her, even in the smallest comforts.
She stayed by my side the rest of the day, unbidden, uninvited—not that she needed an invitation. It was as if the rift between us—the sharp edge of our earlier argument—had been smoothed over, bridged by friendship and love without a word.
Yet the lack of acknowledgment nagged at me. I could feel the unresolved tension, swept aside only to fester until it was more convenient for us to broach. If left unspoken, it would grow into something dangerous, a quiet poison I couldn’t allow to linger.
By early evening, exhaustion dragged at me. Eyelids heavy, focus slipping like water through my fingers. Greaves reclined nearby, eyes closed, body at rest but ears pricked for any hint of threat, a sentinel even in repose.
Nienna rested her chin in her hand. When her lids drifted closed, I wrapped an arm around her shoulders to prevent her from tipping forward and jarring herself awake. She didn’tprotest—trusted me to hold her, the faintest sigh of comfort brushing past her lips.
Once the plans with Fallione were set—as far as strategy could reach without knowing what tomorrow had in store—I lifted her into my arms. She gasped, clutching at me instinctively, fingers digging into my mantle.
“Put me down!” Her voice trembled, eyes wide with startled panic as I stirred her sluggish mind awake. “I can walk.”
“And I can carry you,” I murmured, adjusting her weight, pressing her close. The sun had already sunk, leaving us under the soft silver wash of moonlight. My men could’ve seen me, not that I would have cared.
“I am the queen.” Her hiss was equal parts indignation and amusement, body wriggling closer to my chest as we moved across the cold ground.
“A prideful one.” I hummed, smirking. My stride ate up the distance between us and the tent. I would need sheer will to wash before collapsing into bed. Perhaps tonight I would even get some sleep before the siege.
“What will your men think of me?”
“That you are a queen,” I said, voice low, “and that their king is utterly besotted with you. After all, he’s about to launch an attack on an impenetrable city for your honor alone.”
“My honor!” She scoffed, breath hot against my arm.
“Yes, that thing you left…” I ducked into the tent, setting her gently on the bed. “…on a certain desk in Reem?”
She laughed, kicking her boots off, curling into a ball to study me with mock suspicion.
I moved with weary efficiency. Mantle off. Clothes off. Face and hair cleaned in rapid strokes. Body wiped down. Fresh trousers on. Then—finally—bed.
She remained fully clothed, but I couldn’t be bothered to care. I surrendered to the straw mattress with a long, aching sigh.Something in the back of my mind whispered of her stiffness, but I ignored it and pulled her close. I draped an arm over her middle, letting her warmth anchor me.
Greaves shed his tunic in silence, setting his daggers aside before he splashed water over his face.
“Fallione will stay with you,” I said, tongue curling around consonants as my tired words demanded attention. “He’ll tell you when to send Gyrak in.”
“I know.”
My eyelids fell, relief flooding over the ache behind them. “I’m sorry.”
Everything faded. The world shrank to straw and warmth, the faint rustle of canvas, her soft breathing beside me.
But I needed to apologize for leaving her behind tomorrow. That my frustration never meant she was useless. I had seen the tension in her shoulders, the quiet defeat passing over her face when no one watched. Her worth was not in swordsmanship, in deeds, or in battles won—it was inher. Who she was.
“I know,” she murmured, soft and certain, a gentle echo that pressed against my consciousness.
Greaves froze, movement halting mid-splash.
But I was too far gone, too deep in the pull of exhaustion, swallowed by a black, silent, all-encompassing, dreamless night.
The army was moving. It was breathtaking, a testament to years of discipline and coordination. Squads and battalions shifted across the plains, forming perfect lines, then flowing into the foothills with mechanical precision. Dragons circled high above, distant and untouchable, their wings cutting the sky like dark sails, waiting for their cue.
They would remind Radaan of their power. Egath would catch a glimpse of the threat looming over the Velli, a taste of the devastation that awaited anyone who dared cross the Craggs again.
I shaded my eyes against the sun, my horse shifting behind me, patiently waiting behind a large shrub. From the Andeluith, tucked along the steep path, I watched my army stretch into the distance, feeling both pride and dread as the coordinated chaos unfolded.
Greaves was silent at my side. Beyond him, a small team of Threshers and Harvesters joined the small team. We weren’t here to fight our way into the manor; our mission was containment, securing the estate. Even if Velli lingered within, we could handle them.
