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Theron met my eyes, determination clear in his gaze. “He’s right. I have to do this.”
“I’m coming with you,” I said, ignoring Haemir’s protest.
Theron studied me for a moment before nodding his agreement. “Very well.”
He continued with his orders, his voice authoritative and unwavering. “I need Haemir and Herrath manning the inner walls with the rebels. Raenisa, you’re in charge of the outer wall as my second.”
Teodosija stepped forward. “I’m coming to the meeting.”
Theron hesitated for only a moment before relenting. “Fine. But I’ll need Zerek as well, otherwise, I’d look like a hostage surrounded by a bunch of rebels.”
Roza’s eyes darted to Zerek, and I sensed a tension between them. “I’ll stay with Raenisa on the wall,” she announced, studiously looking away from Zerek.
Raenisa nodded at Roza, a glint of approval in her eyes. “It would be good to have you.”
As everyone dispersed to their respective positions, I took a deep breath, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I’d worked for this for years. It wasn’t how I pictured it, but it was finally happening. Theron held my hand in his as we walked down the stairs.
“I wish I could protect you from this,” he whispered.
“I don’t need protecting,” I reminded him, squeezing his fingers. “I can fight.”
He nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I know. Doesn’t stop me from wanting to keep you safe. Just promise me you’ll stay close.”
“I will,” I promised.
Zerek and Teodosija fell into step behind us, their scowls mirror images. Theron acknowledged their presence with a slight nod before turning his attention to the massive encampment of soldiers readying their weapons for the siege.
“Open the gate.” Men scrambled to obey him, opening the large portcullis as Theron placed his hand on the small of my back. “Let’s go.”
Hundreds of warriors were scattered across the flat terrain, their mail gleaming in the bright sunlight. Their tents provided a sharp contrast against the barren desert landscape as colorful banners fluttered in the breeze. I recognized a few of the sigils—Vennorin, Lazan, Findis—but Carxidor was strangely missing. Dozens of siege engines lined up like an army at attention—catapults and ballistae poised to launch boulders and spears into the heart of the city.
The scent of leather and steel filled my nostrils as I watched trained archers stringing bows with practiced ease while others inspected blades and sharpened pikes. The sound of vanira chittering nearby was a constant reminder that this was no ordinary battle.
At the sight of Theron, the soldiers stopped their work, standing at attention before hailing him with pleased expressions. Theron effortlessly transitioned from a commanding presence to a friendly rapport with the warriors as we moved through the encampment. The respect in their eyes, the camaraderie they shared—it was palpable.
“Vasyl,” Theron called out warmly to a soldier he recognized. “Your daughter, Xaena—have you murdered her fiancé yet?”
The man grinned, pride shining in his eyes. “Sadly no. They married two years past.” Vasyl laughed. “Though we have a grandchild on the way now.”
Theron clapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations, friend.”
He continued, addressing others by name, recalling the names of their spouses and children, asking after their wellbeing. His interactions were a stark reminder of the depth of his connection to these men; of the decades he’d spent fighting alongside them, sharing their stories, their laughter, their sorrows.
“Gods, this heat,” a soldier muttered, wiping his brow with a calloused hand.
Theron chuckled. “Tell me about it. I’ve been sweating my sac off for years in this blasted desert.” Laughter echoed among the nearby soldiers as they called out lewd jokes. This is what Theron had been fighting to get back to when we met. He’d made the Niothe his home after everything his mother had put him through and they had dangled it in front of him like a carrot for years as Rhazien kept him chained in Adraedor.
As we approached the tent where Trevyr had raised his flag, guilt churned in my stomach. I had asked Theron to turn against his family, to sever bonds that had been forged through countless years of battle. These men were his brothers in arms... People that he cared about deeply. I hadn’t comprehended the weight of my request or the pain it would inflict upon him.
Trevyr emerged from the tent, a tall and lean figure, his dark hair trimmed short, and his single silver eye gleaming in the midday sun. Following close behind was his brother, Tykas—massive in build, with flowing black hair and eyes the color of deep amethyst.
“Well, well, well,” Trevyr sneered, his gaze locking onto me, cold as ice as he took in my tiara. “Quite the transformation from when you were Theron’s whore.”
Theron’s features darkened, and he took a menacing step forward, fists clenched. I pressed a hand against his chest, halting him.
“‘Whore’ implies I was paid.” I glanced at Theron in mock confusion. “Are you supposed to give me coin for spying on your competition and killing Rhazien?” I leaned into the rumor that Xadrian had started when I attacked Tannethe in the palace. No one knew the true story outside our inner circle, and I wanted to present him in the best light for his soldiers.
Theron played along, sending me a playful grin. “I think he’s referring to us fucking.”
