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“I hate myself for sleeping better while listening tothat,” Sahlyn whispered in my ear when we awoke the following day. I giggled and agreed with him. Argen and Sahlyn’s bond forged deeper every time they interacted, and their trust in each other was just as absolute as mine.
I'm not sure how I would go on with my life if they weren't in it. Sahlyn, Argen, and Iro were ingrained in the ridges of my soul.
As we entered the gates of Drommgar, Iro returned. However, when he landed on my shoulder, he seemed ruffled.
“You need to inquire with the dwarven king about rallying his forces to assist Feist.”
“Hello to you too.”
“My apologies for the shortness, but I’m trying to express my seriousness.”
I stopped walking abruptly, and Sahlyn bumped into me. He ran a gentle hand down my arm and stepped away. He and Argen had learned that the bird preferred a little privacy.
I glanced at them with a grateful smile, then returned my focus to the jay.
“What do you mean, Iro?”
“Without the dwarven forces, Feist will fall to Franconia. Regrettably, Amira will not send aid.”
“Why?”
“She wants the kingdom to fall. She will reclaim from Franconia once they reduce the kingdom to dust and rubble, and all nobles are deceased.”
I swallowed, and my eyes swept over my companions, who were riveted to my words. “And what if Rimroc does not agree to send aid?”
Argen physically twitched at the mention of his father.
“Play into the dwarves' weakness.”
“Do they have a weakness?”
“Everyone has a weakness, child. You just need to find and exploit it. Just remember that sometimes our weaknesses are also our greatest strength.”
Ugh—Iro’s cryptic messages. “Why can’t you just spell it out for me, Iro?”
“You know I cannot.”
A truth swept down my bones, one I had guessed as of late. “You are cursed, aren’t you? That is why you cannot answer me properly?”
“Something like that.”
Damn it. In frustration, I blew a long breath but rubbed my hand over his ruffled feathers. “Thank you, my friend.”
Iro shook his feathers and rode on my shoulder as I went over to Argen.
“Your father needs to rally the dwarves to help Feist.”
His bronze eyes flicked over mine. “I’d gathered as much. He is holdin’ on to his throne by the thread of stubborn pride, girlie. He will not—”
“He must. If we wish to be successful, he has to.”
Argen shook his head. “Perhaps the song of battle will call to his blood.”
The song of battle. I grinned.Thatwas Rimroc’s weakness and his greatest strength. All the dwarves had an appetite for battle. Threaten their pride, their brawn, and you had their weakness. Damn. Would it be that easy?
We entered the throne room of Drommgar without a plan to convince King Rimroc. Argen said I should have a plan.
I didn’t.
