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“I would ask how you plan on accomplishing such a feat, but given what I’ve already seen, I do not need an explanation. Only faith.” Radomir’s gaze shifts out the window, toward the brilliant morning sun. “My companions who traveled with me will have sought shelter in nearby caves for the day. Allow them the chance to feel what I have felt.” His hazel eyes blaze with purpose as he meets mine again. “Allow this, and you will have our strength, for whatever it is worth.”
I purse my lips to hide the stupid grin that wants to form. We have an army. A small army, where more than half the soldiers can only fight at night, but five hundred and seventy is a far cry better than the fifteen we started with.
Zander sets a white stone on the map, marking the new player on the board. The corner of his mouth twitches, the only crack in his stony expression that says he knows how happy—how relieved—I am.
“How will you convince Lord Telor and his approaching army to join your cause, Your Highness?” Kienen asks.
“That is between myself and my trusted advisors. You may return to your men outside Ulysede’s gate. Radomir, we can offer you an escorted walk through Ulysede until the sun is down.”
A clear line drawn in the sand, one that says Zander only trusts the Ybarisan and sapling so far. I can’t blame him. It’s one thing to declare loyalty, but Zander’s been burned too many times to take it at face value. He’ll need to see proof in action. It’s how I won him over, eventually, and that took months.
Kienen’s lips tighten, but he nods. “I would feel remiss not to warn you that Prince Tyree met with a group from Lyndel. Mostly mortals, but there was an elven.”
“Who?”
“I do not know, and I did not hear their conversation, but we delivered a crate of the vials to them. They were soldiers wearing Lyndel’s crest.”
“It can only be the mortal army,” Abarrane says.
“Lyndel has a mortal army?” I’ve only heard of mortals as servants, not trained soldiers.
“Yes. They’ve been fierce and loyal fighters for Telor and the crown for decades, fighting alongside our kind.” Zander turns to Radomir. “What do you know of this?”
“I cannot confirm or deny this. The city’s guards are far more aware and vigilant of my kind entering their walls than most. I do know they are not without cases of poisonings.”
“I doubt there is a village in all of Islor that can claim otherwise.” Zander seems to mull that over. “So Lyndel’s army may be divided. That is important to know. Thank you, Kienen,” he adds with reluctance.
“Your Highness.”
“A moment, Zander?” I jerk my head.
With a nod, he follows me to a corner, out of earshot.
“Three hundred saplings plus two hundred and fifty-four Ybarisans. Not bad for a morning’s work.”
“I thought you were mad, bringing them in here. But you’ve done the very thing I thought impossible.”
“Yeah, I thought I was crazy, too, for a second,” I admit with a breathy laugh.
His attention flitters over his shoulder toward where Elisaf, Kienen, and Radomir discuss something on the map. “It’s a tepid union at best. The sapling will attempt to seize Ulysede out from under you if you do not deliver on your promise, but we will use him to our advantage until we can’t.”
Leave it to Zander to focus already on all the ways we can be betrayed. “Give them a chance to prove themselves.” But this isn’t why I called him over here. I collect his hand, reveling in its strength. “We need to tell Atticus.”
Zander’s attention snaps back to me. “Tell him what?”
“About Neilina’s plans for Hudem, about how much poison there actually is out there.” For weeks, we assumed it was a few vials here, a few there. We didn’t grasp the magnitude of it. “He’s going to hear about Ulysede as soon as Telor sends a message. At least we can tell him what it does for your kind, what it did for Radomir.”
Zander shakes his head. “Atticus will not listen to anything we have to say. He is bullheaded.”
“Does he care about Islor?”
“He would die for it.” In that declaration, Zander’s voice doesn’t waver.
“Then we need to tell him. He already wants me dead, so how much worse can it get?”
“If he finds out what you are, he could ignore the threat to the rift and send every Islorian soldier to our gates instead, allowing Neilina open passage through.”
“Okay, that would be worse,” I admit. “But like it or not, he is the king right now, and he orders the armies. He should know what’s coming, if he doesn’t already. And remember, he has Wendeline.” If he didn’t execute her. “She might have already told him about me.”
