My worry for Kiera existed in every beat of my heart. In everything I did. I couldn’t get her out of my mind as I gathered weapons and warriors and repaired our two ships.
I saw the same worry on Jek’s and Maz’s faces as they prepared for war. Even Yarina and Sigrid seemed more subdued after Kiera left. Ruru hadn’t spoken to me for a full day after I relayed Kiera’s goodbye. He’d been distraught that she’d left without him and sat by the river all day with his brother.
Eventually, he came back around, throwing himself into preparations. He’d helped stitch the flag that now flapped from a line at the bow. I’d designed it myself. A violet background with Rellmira’s sun at the top, my family’s falcon and the joined hands of the People’s Council beneath.
The new symbol of the union I hoped to achieve today upon the sacrifice of so many.
I twisted my father’s falcon ring around my finger. I hadn’t taken it off since retrieving it from Frieda’s safekeeping. I wore it to honor the family I’d never known—and to remind myself of the family I fought for.
“Be with us, Nikella,” I whispered to the salty breeze that whisked us over the stormy gray sea.
Black clouds swirled overhead. Thunder rumbled like gathering war drums.
Maz stepped up beside me, his eyes on the sky as well. “She never could resist toying with you on her seas.”
“Let’s hope her storms favor us again,” I said, dropping my gaze to the southern horizon. We should come upon Aquinon in the next hour. “Are they ready?”
“More than that, brother. They’re eager to get their weapons wet with the blood of Wolves.”
I nodded. We had over two hundred Dag warriors from several clans. They had heeded the cry for vengeance for the Urzost village. A dozen prisoners who were strong enough and eager to fight for their home city were also aboard. Another few dozen of Skelly’s bone-rattlers rounded out our small invading army.
“Henry had better be there,” I muttered.
“He will be,” Maz assured me, as he always did. “As will Kiera.”
I glanced at him and tapped his new steel breastplate. “Looks good.”
“It’s bloody uncomfortable,” Maz grumbled, adjusting it on his shoulders. “Dag armor isn’t usually so thick.”
I grinned, having heard this complaint many times now. “You know the deal. Get through the battle without damaging it, and you can toss it.”
He grinned back at me, looking fierce in his warrior paint. “Easy.”
Ruru tapped me on the shoulder and pointed at the horizon. “Ship ahead.”
I squinted, barely making out a distant speck. A speck that morphed into tall sails with a purple flag on top. “Looks like we found Renwell’s third warship. Warn the others.”
Mynastra’s Wingsand the Wolf ship raced toward the warship, the wind filling our sails. Warriors lined the deck, bristling with weapons. Maz with his axes, at least three broad knives, and a shield strapped to his arm. Ruru carried a bow and a pouch filled with arrows, knives strapped to his waist like a row of teeth. Daire stood next to him, similarly armed. Jek hefted a huge shield, Nikella’s spear in his other hand.
I had two swords strapped across my back, two curved knives sheathed at my waist, and one each in my boots. I readied a bow as well, with an oil-dipped arrow.
“Remember,” I shouted to the warriors. “Don’t shoot until my order!”
I lit my arrow in the brazier that sat in the middle of the deck. I flexed my fingers around the thin wood, angling the arrow higher. “Carry it, Mynastra.”
The warship was near enough I could see soldiers scurrying about, bringing their catapults to bear on us.
I fired. The arrow sliced through the air—and pierced the warship’s hull. Triumph burst through my veins. They were within range.
I raised my arm. “Fire on the catapults!”
Dozens of fiery arrows nocked into place, then whistled through the air. Some hissed into the choppy water. Others peppered the ship’s hull with scorch marks. A few found soldiers and the catapults they had already loaded.
Gods-damned catapults.
“Spears!” I shouted.
A group of Dags stepped forward with long, stout spears that took two of them to wield.
