Poppy snorted before directing her attention to my father. “Please, continue.”
“As the soldiers fled, and before our regiment could give chase, Craven swarmed us,” he said, his grip tightening on his glass. “Hundreds of them.”
“Hundreds?” Poppy whispered. Aylard paled, and Damron swore.
My father nodded as Malik reached forward and picked up a circular, onyx-hued paperweight.
“How many Craven do we suspect are in the Blood Forest?” Netta asked.
“No one knows exactly,” Malik said when Poppy looked at him. “The Blood Crown didn’t keep detailed records, but I once heard thousands were speculated.”
“That’s…” Netta took a long gulp of her wine. When she set her glass down, Emil refilled it. “Problematic.”
“Very much so,” my father agreed, “especially since these were…fresh. Very quick-footed.”
“Fresh?” Poppy set her glass down. “Do you think they were turned after the battle at the Bone Temple?”
“I’m nearly a hundred percent confident of such, which I will explain shortly,” he advised. “Thad assisted the best he could with the Craven but left it mostly up to us.”
“How many losses did we incur?” I asked, resting my elbow on the arm of the chair.
“About fifty,” he said, glancing toward me.
“Fifty trained soldiers lost to the Craven?” Aylard questioned.
My father looked across the table as Malik rolled the paperweight on his palm. “I’m surprised it wasn’t worse.”
“We crossed paths with some Craven on our journey here,” Aylard started. “We suffered no—”
“How many Craven did you encounter at once?” Poppy interrupted. “Ten? A dozen. Maybe two at most?”
“Never more than a dozen at a time, if that,” Damron said, her blue eyes narrowed on Aylard.
“And have you ever dealt with a swarm of them?” Poppy pressed. “Coming at you all at once with the same goal in mind. To feed?”
Aylard stiffened. “Well, no—”
“I have. The first time, I got the scars you always stare at,” Poppy stated, and I ran my fingers over my lips to hide my grin as La’Sere shifted uncomfortably in her seat—probably wishing she hadn’t sat beside the imbecile. “So have Casteel and Kieran.As have Naill, Emil, and Delano. And now Valyn has learned the kind of destruction a horde of them can wreak,” she continued. “If you had, then you would know that only losing fifty is a miracle.”
Aylard’s jaw tightened, and his shoulders stiffened, but he wisely stayed quiet.
Poppy turned back to my father, who didn’t even attempt to hide the smile that crinkled the skin at the corners of his eyes.
“After we dealt with the Craven, I made the call to stay with Bram’s regiment in case there was another swarm,” he shared as Malik’s paperweight scraped the wood. “Not to mention, his division needed support. The half that fled to Pensdurth outnumbered ours, but we believed they were mortal. They were in the sun, after all.”
“I’m assuming they weren’t?” I said, glancing at Malik’s hand. Scrape, scrape, scrape went the paperweight.
“Some were.” He shifted in his seat. “Before the Craven swarmed us, we were engaged with several who ran and struck them down.” He paused. “They did not stay dead.”
“Revenants,” Poppy said.
“I have no idea how many of them were that, or how many Thad got.” He lifted his glass. “It took less than half a day to cross the remaining distance to Pensdurth’s Rise.” He looked over at Poppy. “The city had gone silent.”
Poppy sucked in a sharp breath. Sensing my confusion, she said, “Any quiet city or village we encountered on our way to Carsodonia was never good.”
“As in nearly every mortal had been turned Craven or captured for feeding,” Kieran elaborated. “You think the fresh Craven were citizens of Pensdurth?”
“We do,” he confirmed. “We met combatants near the Rise. That’s when Thad was injured.” A muscle ticked in his temple. “By a spear.”
