I step past them, only for his voice to follow. “Is it time, then?”
They’re young—too young for what’s to come. And frightened. “How old are you? Fifteen?”
“Sixteen.” Weslyn straightens, but his face is blanched of color. “But I’m going to fight, sir.”
“You can go with the evacuation.” My brow furrows. “Did nobody tell you?”
“They did.” He meets my gaze, chin tipping up. “But I’m staying, to hold the line.”
The boy beside him is going. I can tell by his silence, though there’s no shame in trying to live when you’ve barely started. Some of the younger soldiers bear the knowledge of what’s coming with humor. With dismissal. Some of them have no idea what’s coming.
But this one does, I suspect. I press my palm to my heart. “May Erevan be with you then, soldier.”
“And with you, sir.”
My feet feel heavier as I descend the steps. Nythen sits silently on Lyra’s cot, his eyes closed and his head pushed back against the wall. He speaks without opening them. “I thought I’d be here until the witches came.”
I study him through the bars. “Tomorrow. The Council is meeting in an hour. And I considered it.”
“The scouts—”
“I’ve called them back. All of them.”
His eyes slide open. “Thank you. Who brought the message?”
“Hester.”
His shoulders sag at the mention of his youngest son. “What do you plan to do with me, then, Crown Prince?”
“I assume you want to fight.” I know he had five children, once, and a partner that was much kinder than he ever has been. And only Hester is left. “Hester is pulling back the rest of your scouts.”
When I reach for the keys, his eyes flicker. “You assume correctly.”
I shift through them, picking out the one for his cell. “It may interest you to know that the witch you almost tortured into madness saved several Darkwielder lives yesterday. One of them was Sera Valcor.” I fit it to the lock. “And Lyra will be standing in the line tomorrow, just as you will be.”
His eyes narrow, as if searching for the trick as the door swings open.
“If you look at her.” I lower my voice. “If you touch her, or make her feel in any way uncomfortable, I will shove erevas through your skull before the Lightbringers get near. Do you understand?”
Slowly, he nods.
“Be at the Council chamber in an hour and then spend your final night with your son. The Passing will go ahead.” I step back. “The time for fighting between us is over. Eres might give you the quilling antidote, if you can persuade him. His temper can be worse than mine.”
He’ll be lucky to get any at all, and from the look on his face, he knows it.
***
My mother’s chambers are dark, the light blocked with a rumpled curtain dragged across. I don’t bother knocking, since she won’t answer if she’s not inclined to. And she’s never inclined to, not when she’s in her moods.
“There is a Council meeting in an hour.” I fold my arms. “You’re needed to attend.”
Queen Maelira of Umbraxis is little more than a bump beneath the covers of her bed. Her voice comes slowly. “I am unwell, Kaelen.”
My mother gave up a long time ago. Her short, brief appearances in public, her sporadic attendance at Council, both are nothing more than smokescreens to purchase her the space to wallow in her grief. I haven’t seen her for days.
“Vaelion’s army will be here after dawn tomorrow,” I say quietly. “This is the end of Umbraxis, mother. And we all have to face it.”
I walk over and rip the curtain down, letting light spill across her bed. “We need you for the battle. Better to die out there than in here.”
