It was a grievous oversight to leave only ten soldiers guarding the mountain’s underpass. That tunnel was a door into Sol, a path that could never be reclaimed once lost. It was the key to our advance—a channel into the city, one tier at a time.
The army’s movement on the plains served as a distraction, pulling Tallon and Egath’s attention away from our true target. Sunlight caught a glint of gold amid the soldiers below, mimicking my own armor. It would be enough to mislead anyone unfamiliar with my presence. Part of me wondered if the bastard would notice.
I led my men into battle, always visible at the front. Easy to be spotted with a spyglass, which was why my decoy stayed further back, shielding my true position.
The sun hung high. Almost midday. The giant black dragon—Gyrak—remained unseen, hidden in the folds of the mountainside. Nienna’s assurances ran through my mind: he would appear only when he wished.
I had left her in the tent, though the silence between us pressed heavier than the mountains themselves. She didn’t wantto stay, but I could not risk her safety while I fought. She was the queen, carrying the heir of Radaan. Her place was with the camp, not in the heat of battle.
A faint whistle caught my attention. Ears straining, I sought the source, anticipating wind or distant steel.
A black meteor tore through the sky, growing in size, twisting my stomach into knots. Though I knew it was Gyrak, my ally, dread pressed down on me like stone.
Wings darker than midnight sails unfurled, thunder ripping across the mountain. The dragon’s tail whipped past, under his scaled belly, snapping through air. There was no roar, no growl of a predator—only a sharp hiss, and then flame.
Screams rose immediately, raw and jagged.
I vaulted onto my horse, grabbing mane and reins, heels driving into flanks. My men followed without orders, instinct taking command.
The plateau burned. Soldiers screamed, some toppling into the flames as if rolling could extinguish the fire. Smoke and the stench of seared flesh coalesced into a haze thick enough to choke. Traitors cooked alive in their armor, a grotesque warning etched into the clearing.
Gyrak clung to the mountainside, silent, surveying his work. His massive neck obscured Ronan. Then a golden eye fixed on me. My back stiffened. Fangs slid from dark lips. Pupils narrowed. The playful creature Nienna teased was gone, replaced by a predator capable of endless slaughter.
The tunnel gates blocked the path, an immense barricade of wood and iron. I dug my heels into my horse, demanding it move forward despite the flames. The animal squealed but obeyed, hooves rising over charred ground.
Gyrak clawed the mountain, ripping the gate free with effortless might; decades of protective construction shattered and tossed aside.
I pressed onward, offering a sharp salute to Ronan.
But when the beast twisted so we could pass—there were two riders secured to his back.
Nienna, caught between a wall of scales and her brother, wrapped in his arms. Her braided blonde hair gleamed like spun gold against the sheen of her mantle.
Rage surged through me, raw and white-hot. She had acted against my wishes, using her brother to get what she wanted because I wouldn’t let her.
She deceived me.
The salute dropped from my hand, jaw clenched. This was no time for confrontation. I couldn’t deal with this here.
Greaves’ horse nudged mine, snapping me to the present. I urged my mount into the darkness, reins taut, muscles straining, heart hammering. Thoughts of prayer died in my throat, smothered by fury toward the woman I loved.
My wife, my partner. I had been down this road before, dealing with treachery and mock at every turn.
“Kal!”
Something tackled me from my horse, wind expelled from my lungs, crushing me against the stone. I found my dagger, slashing at my assailant’s nails as they scraped at my collar. I rolled, pinning my weight against him, then drove my blade through his throat, sawing until his body went still. Warmth soaked through my clothing, saturating it with his sticky blood.
My back and shoulder smarted from the impact, but a quick catalog of my limbs assured me I was unharmed.
Someone sparked a lantern, then Greaves’ strong hands lifted me upright. His dark eyes burned with silent reproach in the flickering light.
Distraction had made me vulnerable—a weak link in our armor. I pressed my lips together, then gave him a firm nod. Nienna could wait. For now, I had a friend to save.
Our horses thundered through the tunnel and up the spiraling ramp. Sound ricocheted in the narrow passage, a rolling thunder of breath and leather and steel. It was loud—but fast. Speed mattered more than silence.
The guards at the top were ready, both with strung bows pointed at us. They collapsed when we rounded the corner; a throwing knife and dart buried in their necks.
The Threshers surged forward, braced and ready to defend.
