I fluttered my hand in a vague gesture of unconcern. “No worries. I mean, yes, it was horrible—”
“I hate to interrupt,” Jack said acidly, “but is right nowreally the time?”
We all turned to look out into the bay. The stone-giant bridge had almost finished assembling itself. Rock scraped against rock as they clambered over one another in an effort to close the final gap. A horde of unnatural creatures readied themselves to swarm over us. The trees weren’t bothering with the bridge. They had reached the water and were slowly wading across, an inexorable, unstoppable force.
The archers on the battlements above us kept the thorn birdsfrom snatching up any soldiers, and the dragon flew over the enemy lines, spitting fire. From its back, Jonquil cast her spells, and blinding bolts of lightning cracked into their ranks. And also, I’m sure, somewhere on the shore, a fairy princess with a claymore was making her fearsome charge, planning to singlehandedly carve her way through the monsters one by one.
I had my doubts any of it would make much of a difference in the end. Even the dragon was doing little damage. It had to pull up too often to avoid the grasp of a threatening branch or the raking claws of an enormous hamster.
“I only wish I knew why,” Gervase said behind me. “What is the cause of this? Who hates us so much?”
He still had no idea. I should have said something earlier. “It’s your sister. Angelique wants to kill you and rule in your stead.”
I risked a backward glance. He didn’t look particularly surprised. Only sad. “And so, having failed to murder me,” he murmured, “she will murder the kingdom and rule over…nothing.”
The lion harrumphed. “This is what comes of giving a woman a taste of power. I warned you when you appointed her to high office—”
“Lion,” Gervase snapped, “shut up.”
His animal counselor stopped short, looking affronted. Jack smirked.
“General Jack,” Gervase continued, turning to her, “the field is yours.”
So Jack had been promoted from hunter to general. She straightened in her seat. Something with tentacles and bat-like wings splatted to the ground beside her, its single eye pierced by an arrow. Jack’s horse shied away a step, whuffing nervously, its breath stirring my hair. The thought of Poma drifted across my mind. I hoped she’d made it home from the forest. Although on second thought, considering the imminent conflict, I hoped shewas anywhere but here, happily living the free life of a wild mare.
“All right,” Jack said, addressing the troops. “You know what you need to do. If anything gets past us”—she gestured to the other hunters—“it’s your job to stop them. You and the archers are our last lines of defense. Keep everything out. No matter what.”
A hundred soldiers saluted her, gauntlets clanking against their helms. She didn’t have to say what would happen if a single monster made its way past them. The refugee villagers were hiding in what remained of the castle. Easy prey.
Jack’s gaze landed on her eleven identical duplicates, in their masks and boots and cloaks of green. “That makes us the first line of defense. Sorry if this wasn’t what you expected when we set out from Ecossia.”
She was met by a chorus of dismissive voices as they all spoke at once.
“Not the first army we’ve ever—”
“—kin say ah expected muckle worse—”
“—hard could it be to fight a tree—”
“—still better than living with the duchess!”
She gave them a wry grin and drew her sword from its sheath.
“As for you, witch—” Jack began.
“Sorceress,” I corrected her.
“Do whatever you can. If nothing else, protect my brother.”
I nodded, and my hand found Sam’s as Jack rode to the edge of what was left of the bridge. A few of the hunters stepped up beside her, one with her hand at the side of her nose, another busily fastening on her leg. The rest arrayed themselves wherever they thought they might do the most good. The lion, to give him what credit he might be owed, stepped to the forefront as well. As did Gervase, bringing his mount alongside Jack’s. It struck me as perhaps not the best place for him, but time wouldtell soon enough whether it was heroism or foolishness. Often the only difference is how the story ends.
In front of them, a final stone giant was laying itself in place with a series of bone-rattling thumps, like an unbalanced millstone.
“The odds don’t seem to be in our favor,” I remarked.
“They don’t,” said Sam.
“You should kiss me.”
