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“Her Majesty, the Queen. A war strategist,” Miles quipped.
“But it’s as far from the castle as you can be,” Summercut responded, his eyes trailing from where my finger lay to where the castle sat. “There’s no clear path.”
“I know the way,” I stated firmly. “I can get there.”
Cal’s entire body tensed next to me. He didn’t want me on the frontlines. He didn’t want me parading through Inkwell then the rest of the city to get to Castemont. If he had his way, I’d be on another continent, as far from the battle as I could be. I understood that. I didn’t want him there either.
What choice did we have?
Summercut’s face was apprehensive, his war-weathered eyes leery. “It is absolutely imperative that you keep Castemont’s forces within the city walls. And keep the impact zone narrow. If too much of the wall falls, it’ll be easier for them to push us back.”
I nodded, feeling as good about the plan as I could. “Everyone knows where they’re supposed to be tomorrow at sunrise?” I asked, my eyes flicking over the map again.
“Aye.”
“Then everyone is free to go. You can spend tonight living or praying.”
The tent emptied of everyone but me and Cal, my eyes still on the map, and his eyes still on my face. He reached a hand out, tipping my chin to look at him. “What will you be doing tonight? Living or praying?”
“Both.”
Chapter 47
“Thank you for being here.” I tried to sound as convincingly cheerful as I possibly could as I made my way through the camp of soldiers, introducing and shaking hands and thanking, thanking, thanking. The same sight greeted me over and over — bent knee, fist over chest, “Daughter of Katia.” Cal and Nell trailed behind me. They were an odd looking duo, their height difference so substantial that it felt like people stared just as long at them as they did at me.
Whispers followed each step I took, the sounds ofshe’ll burn them allandyou should ask to see her powers. I was sick to my stomach.
The energy in the camp was oscillating between frenzied and solemn. Some people played cards and threw dice. Some passed bottles and flasks and exchanged drunken laughs. Some tents billowed and shook though there was no breeze. And someone strummed a lute in the mess of it all.
Others sat quietly, hunched over the Book of Saints. Some held each other close. I wondered if they held loved ones or strangers, trying to find comfort where they could.
But every single person, every single soldier, whether they were laughing or weeping, said some variation of the same thing. “I will die for you with honor.”
I swallowed hard, trying to make it look like my insides weren’t screaming out in desperation. “Daughter of Katia,” I heard from behind me, and I turned to give a now habitual nod in the direction of the voice. But my heart stopped in my chest when I saw who it came from.
“Elin.” Larka’s dearest friend. I hadn’t seen her since a few weeks after Larka’s death, when my days blurred together and my mind was constantly telling me I’d be better off taking my own life.
She’d told me I should have been the one to die in the explosion, and I’d agreed with her. Part of me still did. No, all of me still did. She’d said Larka was perfect, and she’d been right about that, too. I remembered that moment vividly — the freezing ground we sat upon on the waterfront with only our cloaks to separate us from the ice, the all-consuming pain that slashed through my chest and straight to my soul, the violent resentment that coursed from her body and caught me in a vice.
She rose, her expression unreadable at first as she stared back at me. Large brown eyes were guarded and weary over cheeks that were not as full as they had been. Her chocolate hair was longer now, much longer, braided into a plait that fell to her low back.
“I heard the rumors that it was you,” she breathed, taking in Cal and Nell who stood guard beside me, Katia’s diadem atop my head. “I knew I wouldn’t believe it until I saw it.”
I had to keep myself from shifting awkwardly under her gaze. “Well, here I am.”
“Here you are.” She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated. I thought I saw her lip tremble for a split second before she finally spoke. “I’m sorry, your Majesty, for what I said–”
I cut her off, my palm raising to stop her. “There’s no need to apologize, Elin. Truly, there isn’t.”
“No, there is. I wasn’t kind to you. Her death…” Her inhale was shaky, and I recognized the pain on her face. I’d seen it on so many people. Too many people. “It ruined me.”
The emptiness behind her eyes was jarring, a hollowness that I knew would always remain with her to some degree. “I understand.”
“I loved her.”
“I know you did, and–”
“No,” she said, stepping forward, her fists clenched at her sides. “I loved her.” Her shoulders shook with a sob that she fought back. “And she loved me.”
