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“Aye, I know what you mean.” Mag swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “I ran into Andreus about an hour ago and he said it’s the least action they’ve had since this started. They only came across a single dreadbeast, and the thing was already acting half dead.”

Andreus was with Lyriat’s group, next over in the line a few leagues to the north. They thought having the most powerful of them in the middle would do the most damage, everything else being swept to the edges for the others to pick off, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

Fuck suspicion. This was Okthana’s doing. Her obsession with him. Brand knew it to his fucking bones.

“This is going to sound mad, but—” Araxis materialized almost right on top of him, stumbling before listing to the side, and Brand lunged to catch him. “What the fuck?”

His youngest brother was heaving in his breaths, leathers coated head to toe in all sorts of nasty shite. Beneath a desperate brow, his unfocused, crystalline eyes were pleading, though he remained silent.

Burning Solyrian.

Brand released the rage and settled to the scorched grass, cradling Araxis as he offered up his arm. “Accept this gift. Freely given.”

Araxis latched on with a sharp inhale, hardly waiting for Brand to get the words out. It stung, too. Not at all like Luna’s soothing bite.

Araxis detached as soon as the color was back in his cheeks, slumping. “Fuck. Thank you,” he rasped, lids sliding closed. “We need to speak. Alone. It can’t wait any⁠—”

“What’s happened?” Amun was there, dark eyes darting over all of them.

Mag knelt, smoothing their brother’s black hair. “And why do you look like you’ve been fighting this war on your own for the last year?”

Brand swallowed a frustrated bellow. One way or another, he was making Araxis spit out whatever the fuck it was he needed to talk about before either of them left this spot.

Araxis sat up, scrubbing a hand down his face. “The healing tent and field around it should be invisible to the naked eye, but suddenly every rotten bastard started congregating there this morning, making my life impossible. At first, I thought the warriors outside the glamour were drawing attention with their presence, but I took to the sky and…” He shook his head. “The beasts are going out of their way, coming from far afield where they couldn’t have possibly seen it, like they fucking know where it is.”

“Is Luna⁠—”

“Fine. They’re all fine, for now. But it’s a mess and our plan isn’t working anymore. The only reason I didn’t find you right away is that Lunara decided to pull the damned Blessed Keeper card and forbade me. Fortunately, I’m also sworn to protect her at all costs—even from herself—and we finally hit the point where I may reasonably override her command. You’re all out here trying to be gentle because her heart is soft, but the other group isn’t going to last much longer. They’re too exhausted.”

Shite. Some of the same thoughts he just had, but this was worse.

“We need to⁠—”

“Forgive me, Your Highnesses.” Brand looked up as Driana the Orespinner tossed her sword into the ether. She offered a dip of her chin, spiral tendrils of orange hair falling from every which way. “Who knew of the healing tent?”

“Bloody everyone,” Faldir scoffed. “It isn’t a secret.”

“Again, forgive me—I wasn’t clear,” she said, respectful, but clearly irritated with Fal. “Who knew of its location?”

“Now, that is a secret.” Amun narrowed his gaze on her.

Driana raised a brow. “Is it?”

Realization dawned slowly, all of them looking at each other while their minds kicked in. And when it finally hit, Brand’s heart pounded hard enough to make him lose his meager supper.

Burning Solyrian.

“It used to be, anyway,” Brand murmured.

From everyone else but them.

“Mmm.” Driana nodded. “For my part, if my life depended on it, I could not tell you where it is, only that it is—just like the rest of the commanders.”

“You think someone’s betrayed us,” Fal breathed, finally catching up. “But that would mean…”

Brand and Luna, his brothers, their parents, Uncle Caius and Thaddeus, Lyriat and the twins, the Chieftains, Fern, and Amal—the seventeen people in this world who knew of the tent’s specific location. Not even the hundred or so healers assigned to it knew exactly where they were, for the safety of all involved. Hence the reason Araxis was practically killing himself misting creatures in every direction.

An invisible hand wrapped itself around Brand’s throat. “One of us has betrayed us.”