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“Hey, you’re okay,” Roake called. He was seated before the fire but scrambled up to assist her. She waved him off.

“I’m okay. How’s Alura?”

Roake grimaced. “She’s with Helly. The healers are keeping her stable, but she hasn’t woken yet.”

“Gods,” she breathed. “Will she wake?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“Scales,” she said gruffly.

Roake sat back down. “I’m on watch.”

“It’s the same day?” she asked with a wince as she flopped in front of the fire.

“Same day,” he confirmed.

“What happened?”

“Nothing much. We retreated when the reinforcements came since it was almost dark. We’re going to break through the line and into Lethbridge tomorrow at dawn.” He pushed a plate toward her. “We saved you dinner. Thought you might want it when you woke up.”

“Thanks,” she said, digging into the food with abandon.

“Helly checked you over after she stabilized Alura. She said it wasn’t the magic sickness. They wanted to bench you tomorrow. She said it looked like exhaustion and you just needed to sleep.”

She bit her lip. “You think she was telling the truth?”

Roake shrugged. “Who knows? You’re in it tomorrow with us at least.”

Kerrigan sighed and glanced up at the moon. She gasped when she saw it was full in her sky. Was it time for her to meet with Cleora? Had she gotten her days right?

“You should get some more sleep,” Roake said. “I’ll wake Audria in a few hours.”

“Thanks.”

She finished her food and then crawled back into her tent. With a breath, she dropped into the spirit plane. She left the clouds immediately and landed on the stretch of land where she had met with the spiritcaster. She turned in a circle and called out, “Cleora?”

But there was no answer. Cleora had been certain that their moon cycles matched, but perhaps they had been wrong. Maybe wherever Cleora’s world was, day was night, and night was day. Maybe they were drastically off from each other. Kerrigan had no idea. She’d never met anyone from a different world. Cyrene had been strange enough, and she’d come from a different continent.

“Anyone here?”

Kerrigan sighed in exasperation and then sat down to wait. It could be that she was just early… or late. She’d give it an hour. Unfortunately, she couldn’t sit around and wait forever. She would need to get some actual sleep to fight tomorrow. Already, her body hurt in places she’d never imagined. And that was after a full year of training.

Then, after a few minutes, a piece of paper appeared before her. Kerrigan jumped like the thing was set to explode. When it gently swayed to the ground and landed harmlessly, Kerrigan picked it up between her fingers and read what was on it.

Emergency back home. Meet next full moon.

—Cleo

Kerrigan huffed. Of course, right when she could really use spiritcasting to help win this battle, Cleora was absent. Well, at least Kerrigan hadn’t missed her.

Kerrigan folded the note and put it in her pocket before dropping back down into her body. She reached into the folds of her nightclothes and was surprised to find the paper had come with her. What kind of trick was that?

Next time, she’d find out.

She shoved the paper into her bag and promptly passed back out. Spiritcasting would wait for her. The battle tomorrow would not.

60

The Battle

Trulian called Kerrigan and Fordham into the commander’s tent before dawn. They dressed in haste, only stopping briefly to see that there was no change in Alura, before crossing the clearing to the tent. Fordham said not a word. His eyes were dark and a little lost. He knew the cost of what was to come. Kerrigan stifled a yawn as she followed him into the tent. Her eyes scanned the room that had been nearly empty. Now, all twenty-one of the council members were in attendance.

Helly frowned at her entrance. Bastian hung back with Kress, who stroked his ginger beard as he listened to whatever Bastian was saying. Anahi read the notes over Lockney’s shoulder. Alsia checked and double-checked her weapons, pulling knives out of various places on her body. Lorian stared off into nothing. He must have taken the news of his daughter hard.

Then, another figure stepped out of the crowd. Kerrigan stopped dead in her tracks when her fiancé appeared before her.

“March,” she said flatly.

He shot her the most dazzling smile he could muster. “There you are.” He swept forward, taking her hand in his and pressing a firm kiss upon it. “When I heard that my fiancée was among those set for battle, I came as fast as I could.”

“You’re… with the military?” she asked, pulling her hand back from his.

“Lord March brought the foot soldiers,” Helly said with an arched eyebrow.

“The House of Medallion is at your service,” March said.

“Oh,” Kerrigan whispered. Her stomach roiled. She was glad to have the reinforcements, but she had never considered that March would lead the charge.

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