“Great, thanks.” Silmaran waves them away.
“Do you think we could, I don’t know, go out and meet the queen’s army? Talk to her? Tell her this whole uprising thing is for the best?” Beth floats the idea on an uncertain tone.
“Her family has enjoyed slavery and enforced it with blood and death for eons.” Silmaran sighs. “I don’t think speaking with her will change anything, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try.” She rubs her eyes. “We have myriad problems. The greatest of them is that Cenet’s army is made up of slaves. I’ve long refused to harm our own, no matter if they were against us. But these are mindless drones controlled by Cenet. I don’t think we can do this without bloodshed. The only good thing about it is that they’ll be exhausted when they reach us. That long journey can’t have treated them well.”
“We don’t have enough fighters. Not for a battle on two fronts.” I realize the city is full of former slaves, but most of them are not trained in combat, and a good number of them have been hobbled by their masters. “The uprising prevailed because emotions were running high. The slaves rose for their freedom, but they aren’t warriors.”
“I know.” Silmaran sinks down in the chair Clotty vacated.
“What do we do?” Raywen asks.
Silmaran looks at me, her eyes tired. “What do you think?”
“Me?” I cock my head, though Beth nods vigorously on my periphery.
Silmaran locks her gaze on me. “Gareth, I know you’re the winter realm strategist. And I can admit when I’m out of my depth. Slave uprisings, I can handle. Outright warfare with far greater forces? You have the expertise. Tell me what you think we should do.”
I hesitate. My loyalty is to Leander, to the winter realm. When I make decisions, I make it with the weight of my responsibility heavy on my shoulders. The knowledge that what I do impacts everyone under my command and in my realm. Should I be making decisions for a people that I haven’t suffered with, haven’t labored alongside, haven’t bled with? How can I know what’s right for them when this istheirland?
Beth slips her hand into mine. “They need your help, Gareth.”
“We do,” Silmaran says. “We’ve had it thus far, and we’re grateful for it.” Her eyes slide to Beth. “You have a lot at stake, but we need you now.” She returns her focus to me. “And we would be honored to have it.”
“We would,” Chastain stops pacing and puts his arm around Silmaran.
Beth squeezes my fingers. “Come on, my heart. Show them why you’re the most badass winter noble in all the realms.”
Despite the weight of these affairs and the looming clouds on the horizon, Beth still manages to pull a smile from me.
I admit a plan has already taken shape in my mind. It might not work. It could very well be yet another recipe for disaster. But it gives the people of Cranthum a sliver of a chance. Taking strength from Beth’s trust in me, I clear my throat. “Have you ever spoken to the trees?”
18
Beth
“It’s safe.” I help a young girl up the steep slope into the jungle.
A huge mosquito flies toward us, its long, sharp snout glinting. A small limb whips out and smashes it, its green insides plopping onto the leaf-strewn ground.
“See?” I smile as the girl swallows hard. “Completely safe. Gareth made a deal with the trees, so everyone will be safe here.”
“I heard people talking. Armies are coming.” Her big brown eyes fill with fear.
“The jungle will protect us.” I pull her the rest of the way up the slope and walk her toward the makeshift camp filled with all the souls from Cranthum. The trees seem to sway away from us, moving aside so that we can find our way. The great jungle hides the multitude with ease, its dense greenery covering our trail and shading the workers as they erect tents and hasty living quarters.
Two of the smallest wyverns stand guard—well, if “standing guard” means “sleeping soundly.” One of them even collected a little mound of sticks and leaves, as if pretending it has a jewel hoard of its own.
“What about the fighters?” The girl, Lantha, looks behind us for the hundredth time since we set out from Cranthum.
“They’ll stay and defend the city.” I shoo her along the path. “Go ahead and find the children’s tent. Stake out a good spot for yourself.”
She grabs my hand. “Where are you going?”
“To get everyone else. Go on.” I point to Clotty. “Talk to her. If you call her Miss Clotty and curtsy real nice, I guarantee you she’ll give you whatever food she has on her.”
The girl doesn’t need any more urging. She hurries down the path and walks up to Clotty. I turn, a smile spreading as I remember doing the same little tricks to get a treat.
I pick my way back out to the edge of the jungle. The dunes spread away across the road and south toward Cranthum. To the north, the way looks clear, the sky an enormous blue. But though I can’t see the army, I canfeelit. Like grit between my teeth and a weight on my chest. They’ll be here, and I can only pray to the Ancestors that they pass by this section of jungle on their way. If Gareth’s plan goes off without a hitch, the army will march straight to the city and be none the wiser about the people hidden among the trees.
