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High altitudes and treacherous mountain paths had prevented a large-scale settlement – they had prevented the building-up of anything like a proper fortress, as well. Doubtless the Sels were working on that, but couldn’t have made much headway, yet. Up over the mountains, through the Bridelands, it was a short, clear journey to the harbor, and Aquitaine, and the jewel of the kingdom.
Without sufficient numbers to encircle the Crownlands, and without access to shipping routes to stop the Sels from sailing in any supplies they might need, Amelia couldn’t afford a war of attrition. They would need a quick, surgical strike of immense power, and would need to rely heavily on the drakes.
“The refugees from Merryweather may have brought us a gift,” Edward said. “From the town, under cover of night, we can launch a surprise attack against the chateau, just as we did with the tower. If we can capture it in secret, without the Sels here” – his finger slid along the road, toward the city of Bellweather – “knowing, we can lure them down, and then take this fortress. It’s the last checkpoint before heading up into the Bridelands.”
Reggie stood and leaned over the table to examine the route, and Connor followed suit, so the three of them were crowded together, shoulder to shoulder, looming over her.
“That’s not bad,” Reggie said. “Ifit all works out. Secretly, like you said.”
“You might have to wear something drab, your lordship,” Connor quipped.
“From your Leaf and Twig Chic collection, you mean?” Reggie shot back, and though sharp and feral, their grins were colored with true affection.
“Might have to grow a beard, too, if you’re able.”
Amelia let her thoughts wander, to the west, toward Merryweather, which would require a complete mobilization, and an abandonment of their current bolt hole. It would mean almost two weeks on the road, the slow, ponderous march of an army – one insufficient. She thought of stealing through the night in dark cloaks, with shuttered lanterns, and naked steel, stealth operations without the aid of the drakes, who wouldn’t like hunkering down at camp.
But her thoughts wandered also to the strange dream that still haunted her, two days later.Hadit been a dream? A vision? Had she truly met prince-turned-skinwalker Leif Torstansson ? And his traitorous cousin-turned-packmate?
If Leif was headed their way – as Oliver’s letter had informed her, and her dream/vision seemed to support – then it could only mean he meant to join the war effort. Their war effort, one made joint by the marching of the Aeretollean Great Northern Phalanx, news of which had reached them at dawn on the leg of an exhausted falcon. The message – in Tessa’s hand – said they were leaving “this morning,” which meant the Northern march had begun four days previously. They wouldn’t arrive as quickly as the falcon had, but they were coming.
Leif would arrive first.
“Amelia?”
It was Edward saying her name.
She shook her head to clear it, said, “That sound good,” which caused them all to frown. She had no idea what she’d just answered to, but that wasn’t important.
She said, “Shouldn’t we consider waiting for the Aeretolleans? We need the numbers.”
Connor and Reggie and Edward all traded looks.
Reggie was the one who turned to address her, and she felt like a child, suddenly, seated before three headmasters of varying levels of sternness. It wasn’t a good feeling.
“We do need their numbers, yes, when it comes to the full assault. But perhaps the stealth mission will go more smoothly without them.”
She lifted her brows. “You’re suggesting we march while they’re still on the way? So they can, what, arrive at an empty manor, wondering if we’ve run off or been captured?”
“A small party could stay behind to greet them,” Edward suggested. “And inform them of our destination. They could meet us in the Bridelands and we could march uniformly from there.”
“Or have them come in from the north,” Connor said, tapping the map. “They could cross at the bridge and raise a big alarm, allow us to come in quietly from below.”
The other men nodded.
Amelia frowned. They weren’twrong, but she didn’t like the idea of marching so soon. The others saw the Northerners as allies, but in a nebulous sense: they might come, they might not. For Amelia, it had become a family affair. Her mother had taken the chance of sending Tessa north, not knowing what might come of it. Now, Tessa was married to a prince, and Oliver was as good as married to the king, and though she’d not met any of the Aeretolleans, they were Amelia’s family, now. She wanted to trust and believe in them.
And if she was honest, she was painfully curious about meeting Leif. Each time she thought of him, she felt a low, warm pulse in her belly, a pull like she’d been hooked; a crackle of magic. It felt like she was meant to cross his path…though she’d never believed in that sort of thing before.
She’d not believed in dragons, either, once upon a time.
But she knew she couldn’t say any of that to the others. They’d laugh and call her fanciful.
She said, “Oliver’s last letter said his nephew, Prince Leif, had departed Aeres early, with plans to rendezvous with us here.”
She was met by three frowns.
Connor said, “Leif. Is that the one who’s gone crazy and thinks he’s a wolf?”
