I won’t allow it.
THE EVE OF WAR
MENSLACH BAY
Renn was hiding in the mountains overlooking where their fleet would land. He’d only narrowly avoided being discovered by a group of yellow-cloaked archers. The Vallennan Council had finally acted. But only because one of his men had been captured. From a scout ship.
Incompetent bastard.
He’d warned them of the Navyrian fleet. Evidently, they hadn’t listened. The man should have died. Gone down with the rest of his crew. But no. He’d been weak. Allowed them to take him. And now their enemy knew they were coming.
And they had prepared well. Too well.
He’d sent a whisper. Their prince knew what was waiting for them in the bay. But the decision had been firm.
Our plan does not change. Their shield will fall. Better to crush them all in one blow.
But he doubted. Not loudly, but he did. He’d seen the Thorne heir, the healer girl at his side. Their glimmer of golden magic. Witnessed the reverence on the faces of so many Vallennans as they passed. He knew what it meant. Had warned Prince Silas himself.
The Arcanth has two chosen.
The voice in his mind was cold, amused, and certain in its reply:Then I’ll kill them myself.
CHAPTER 43
DRAKNOR LANDING
Drakens have not crossed Vallennan shores in over three hundred years.
–Caldris Historical Record, Vol. XIII
The morning Draknor would land, the twenty-second day of the eleventh month, dawned cold and grey. And if there had ever been a heavier morning, Kara could not remember it. The camp seemed to even breathe silently – thousands of men and women waiting, not for victory, but for death, for grief, for agony yet to come. No one spoke. Not really. They’d all risen before the sun. Orders were muttered, shields strapped tighter, blades honed again and again, though they still did not feel sharp enough for what was coming. The stillness was worse than panic, worse than action. It allowed her too much time for her mind to wander. To envisage the worst scenarios. Kara didn’t leave Sebastian’s side. Nothing would pull her from him now. Their bond pulsed with dread, her fear of losing him was mirrored in his own. They ate a little, for strength’s sake, around the fire with Veyra, Kaelen, and Serena.
“We have a few hours yet,” Veyra said knowingly. Her children nodded in solemn agreement.
“Do we win?” Sebastian blurted out.
Veyra studied the flames for a long moment before answering. “It is... unclear. There are too many decisions not yet made.” She paused, and for just a moment, her composure cracked. Her hands trembled. But when her gaze lifted, her face was carefully impassive. “I cannot promise you victory, but today, we have a chance. A true chance. And that is more than most battles allow.”
Kara’s heart sank.
A chance. That’s it?
Sebastian glanced down at Kara, his fear for her evident. “Then tell me this, if you can. If we survive this... if we drive Draknor back–” his jaw tensed, “–will the Council try to take Kara again? Bind her like before?”
“Captivity does not lie in her future, Warrior. That is clear.”
What about grief? Does grief lie in my future?
But she didn’t dare ask. Some answers were too terrible to hear aloud. Sebastian let out a long, slow breath, and fell silent, lost in thought. His hand brushed his satchel unconsciously. “We shouldn’t risk the Arcanth out there. If I fall, it could end up in their hands–”
“It will not,” Veyra cut in. “It will remain at the rear with my people. Fatàn will shield it. Nothing will touch it.”
Sebastian gave a sharp nod, and with surprisingly little hesitation, handed the satchel over to Veyra. Finally, when they could delay no longer, Kara walked at Sebastian’s side over to the Thorne army. Sebastian’s voice carried over the sea-wind, firm and commanding as he called the men to him. Captains and lieutenants gathered quickly, their soldiers forming ranks as orders rolled from his tongue like he’d been born for this moment. Kara stayed close, terror and admiration warring in equal measure inside her. Tobias appeared next to them, carrying two sets of armour. One was unmistakably Sebastian’s – a dark metal breastplate with the silver dagger wrapped in thorns emblazoned across the chest. The other was lighter – a sleek steel – also engraved with the Thorne sigil.
“You’re riding front line,” Tobias said. “You wear protection.”
Kara looked to Sebastian as she took it, who was clearly unsurprised. Of course she’d need armour.
