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“I hazard it already has,” Elisaf says somberly.
“All the more reason for me to leave now.”
“And do what?” My panic swells. It’s not a surprise that Zander plans on abandoning the safety of Ulysede’s gates to return to Islor, where a king’s army hunts for him and the blood curse he despises so vehemently reclaims him. He’s been talking about it since the moment we arrived. But it seems reckless, and I don’t know how to make him see it.
“I must sway Telor to our cause. The western lords follow his lead. Even Rengard will abandon his neutrality if Telor stands with me.” His voice bleeds with conviction.
“How many men does Telor have with him? A thousand, Rengard said?”
“Give or take.”
“You have fifteen warriors, Elisaf, and me at your side.” And I barely have a grasp on my affinities. I’m learning, and quickly, but right now, I would be more a liability that an asset.
“Eleven warriors and not you,” Jarek corrects, his jaw setting with willfulness. When I appointed him my commander, one of his requirements was that he claim Zorya, Horik, and Loth for his little Legion unit to protect against any threats within Ulysede.
Zander and Abarrane agreed.
As for me staying in Ulysede? I never agreed to that, but now is not the time to argue with the stubborn oaf. “You can’t go out there against a thousand soldiers, Zander. That’s suicide.”
He smirks. “You might recall, I am not defenseless.”
“No, you’re not. Especially if you plan on killing them all at first sight.” He only needed a single, small flame to raze an apple orchard with his powerful elven connection to Malachi’s fire.
“That is not my plan,” he admits. “But the longer we sit here waiting, the more time we give Atticus to learn where we are and send more soldiers to hem us in.”
“I’m sure Atticus already has an idea of where we are.” Vaguely, at least. But he would never expect a new kingdom within his own realm. I wish I could be a fly on the wall when he receives that news. “Okay, so then you want to talk with Telor first? Do you remember what happened the last time you talked with a lord? In the Greasy Yak in Norcaster? Let me remind you. You could have died, and he only had, what, twelve soldiers with him?”
Zander grits his teeth. “I won’t make that mistake twice.”
“No, but you could make another one. Telor has a thousand soldiers. Plus, there are the saplings to worry about.”
“And anything else that crawls out from the shadows,” Elisaf adds, smoothing a hand over his leathers. Beneath, his thigh is as strong as ever, but it wears countless silver teeth marks where the grif shredded it.
Zander pinches the bridge of his nose. We’ve had this conversation more than once, and it never ends in agreement. “Then what do you suggest, Romeria? That I continue to hide here within these pristine white walls?” He waves around us. “What kind of king is that?”
One who won’t die. I bite back those words because they’re selfish and they won’t bend his will. “Can we wait a few more days to give the Ybarisans a chance to reach us? We know they travel through Kamstead regularly. They’ll get the message we left. They’ll come.”
Abarrane sneers. “And you’re so convinced they’ll swear loyalty to you?”
“As far as they know, I’m still Princess Romeria of Ybaris, and they have sworn to her mother, and so her by default, right?” I force as much conviction as I can muster. I have no idea if they’ve figured out I’m a traitor to Queen Neilina’s plans.
“And when they realize you are not the same princess?” Zander asks.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Just a few more days. You said so yourself—you need Telor to listen, and two hundred Ybarisans with their affinities would make him think twice before attacking.”
“If the Ybarisans don’t kill us first,” Jarek says.
I spear him with a glare. Not helpful.
Zander folds his arms over his chest, his thoughts churning behind a menacing expression. “We are in a precarious position. We do not know what Queen Neilina has heard or gleaned, other than to assume she knows we are now aware of the poison’s source. We do not know what command those Ybarisans may have received from her as they march toward us, for we know there is communication between them.”
“And if the Ybarisans attack?” Abarrane asks.
“I would hope Ulysede’s gates provide us ample protection. But if the Ybarisans attack—if anyone attacks—we will have no choice but to respond with fervor.”
“It would be a show of good faith to Telor if we slaughtered these Ybarisans ahead of his army’s arrival.” Jarek’s grin is wicked.
“You make it sound so easy.” Zander’s gaze is on the map again, on the realm he lost to his traitorous brother. “I do not want to find ourselves in a battle with the Ybarisans or Telor. We need allies, not enemies. We need every one of those men marching upon Cirilea with us.”
