He could see no one else.
The realization punched through his gut, leaving a hollow ache. Was that truly all who had survived?
Were his other Sons dead? Or merely hidden behind Rakon’s bulk?
“Calix,” he whispered, digging his boot into the sod to shove himself just a little closer to the other man. A mistake. Pain consumed his left shoulder like liquid flame.
He swallowed down his hiss of pain and shot a look toward the fire.
No changes. No one had yet noticed.
“Wake up, Calix,” he mumbled out of the corner of his mouth, splitting his attention between the man and the campfire.
But his half-Kunishi Son didn’t answer. He didn’t move.
Aldric scowled. “Are you dead?”
Finally, Calix twitched. His brow furrowed. Very quietly, his words thick, he muttered, “Unfortunately, no.” His Son’s one un-swollen eye cracked open, glinting in the dark.
Relief crashed over him. At least one of his men had survived. But it was far too soon to celebrate. “How bad?”
“Bad,” Calix whispered.
Aldric braced himself. He had to know how many casualties they had sustained, how many men had made it out of the fire. “How many?”
His Son glanced away, his bruised jaw flexing. “Too few.”
Too few. The words fell like blows. He absorbed them as best he could. “I want names, Calix,” he rasped, fighting to keep his voice low. “Who made it out?”
Calix’s mouth worked. “Me. Rakon. Leif. Kyn.”
Four. Four Sons left. That was it.
The thought gutted him. Screams—real, remembered—tore through his skull. They had needed him. And where had he been?
Beingcaptured. Being stabbed by his own glaive. Bested by men who didn’t so much as flinch when they got a chest full of steel. Being trussed up like bait to lure Sera in. As if she would ever come for him. As if she would even care after what he did.
But here he was—alive—while his men lay dead somewhere.
Only. Four. Sons. Left.
“I’m getting you out of here,” Aldric snarled, his eye flashing back open.
Calix’s bloodied lips twitched into a humorless smile. “Yes, you seem to be in an excellent position to mount a rescue attempt, Your Majesty.”
He shot his Son a withering look. All he had to do was cut his ropes and make a run for it. The witch wanted him alive, after all. He could be the distraction while his men got away. But first he needed…something.
Maybe his captors were idiots. Maybe they hadn’t checked him for hidden blades. He could use his wrist dagger—
Wait. He had given his wrist dagger to Sera.
He had nothing.
Calix’s smile turnedbitter. Knowing.
Aldric peeled back his lips and hissed, “I’m working on it.”
Keeping his eye on the campfire and the shapes moving there, he flexed his bound fingers behind his back, hunting for a sharp rock—anything with an edge.
