“Are you soldiers?” the oldest child asked. The middle-sized one had yet to speak.
“We are,” Lark answered, amused by their enthusiasm.
Then his eyes rounded like saucers. “You’re a girl!”
Lark laughed. “Yes, I am.”
As the mother herded her brood away, Luke and Skye emerged from the newspaper office with a strapping young man, sandy curls flopping over his head with abandon. His manner tensed when he saw the military vehicle waiting with a squad in uniform. No one brandished weapons, but his eyes flashed with a hint of panic.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Frye,” Luke coaxed in a mild tone. “We aren’t arresting you. You are in no trouble at all. Queen Frost was worried for your safety and wanted to ensure you arrived in one piece at the capital. That’s the only reason for a military escort—well, that and we don’t have an abundance of motor vehicles here. Most are reserved for security and trade-transport purposes.”
He nodded, seeming to relax a little. Diego stood up and waved with a smile. “There’s a seat beside me you can have. Ever ridden in a Jeep before?”
“No,” he answered. “There’s a world of things I’ve never done before.”
“Well, come on then,” Wes encouraged with a “hurry up” gesture. “I want to hear all about Core technology. I’m Wes Walker.”
“Nathan Frye,” he said. Grabbing the rollbar, he climbed into the back and settled on the bench beside Diego, dropping his pack between his feet.
“Diego Marin.” He extended a hand. Nathan took it in a firm grip. “And that’s Lark Sutter, the rookie. Don’t let her looks fool ya—she’s a real stormborn brightwire.”
Lark waved. “We won’t hurt you, Nathan. Neither will Queen Frost.”
He shook his head as Skye cranked up the engine. “We’re making a quick stop at that fuel depot. Anyone wanting a pit stop, that’s it until we’re back in Nelanta.”
Everyone’s hands shot up, followed by chuckles.
“I can’t believe the queen of Verdancia wants to talk to me,” Nathan declared in bewilderment. “I’m just a farmer, nobody of consequence.”
“And I’m just a swamp rat,” Lark countered. “But I’m willing to bet you’re something special. How else would you have been able to break free, cross the borderlands, and brave a new world?”
“That’s right,” Wes agreed as the Jeep rumbled down the bumpy brick street. “Now, tell me all about Core technology.”
Azaleen chose her upstairs meeting lounge to interrogate the defector. With its pleasant breeze and inviting atmosphere, the room would put him at ease. She’d also hidden a listening device in the shared wall with her office, letting her hear every word. Her plan was simple: introduce the young man to key members of her staff and excuse herself to let the men have the room. She feared he might be too nervous to reveal anything important in front of the head of state. But Beaudean was a fellow farmer, and Shaw had also defected from the north. Naturally, General Stark needed to be there, but the more relaxed and among friends he felt, the more likely he’d reveal a useful piece of information.
Standing in the war room as she waited, Azaleen studied her map table, envisioning various routes the Iron Army might take to invade. No matter how she shuffled her troop markers around, there was no way to fortify them all. That’s why she had called the special council meeting the night before.
“We need a larger army,” she’d told them. “General Stark and I can’t defend the kingdom against a Republic invasion if they split their superior force and attack on two fronts. We simply need more boots on the ground.”
“What do you propose?” Camille had asked. “You know we’re working on a treaty with the AlgonCree, but they haven’t promised military backing yet.”
“We need them,” she’d agreed, “no doubt. But negotiations are slow, and we don’t know how long Irons will wait before making his move. It could be this summer.”
“The treasury won’t stretch any further,” Vera insisted, stone-faced and clearly uncomprehending of the danger.
“Surely you aren’t suggesting subscription?” Rosalind was aghast. “We could launch a fresh publicity campaign, promise more incentives for enlisting.”
Vera had glared venomously at the education secretary, her severe bun pulling her face tight. “What part of ‘we have no more money’ don’t you understand?”
“We must conscript more soldiers,” Stark declared. “There isn’t time to court volunteers.”
“You can’t take laborers from the farms,” Beaudean argued. “Summer is here. If you think our coffers are bare now, imagine if we’ve no cotton to trade come fall.”
“Enough! I’ve made my decision. Ms. Fontaine.” Azaleen turned to her chief of staff. “Captain Moreau is leaving early in the morning for Clearwater. Make sure he carries a letter to Lord Whitfield to accompany our invitation to the festival, asking him for military support. I’m certain he’ll raise a levy and quickly reinforce our ranks.”
As she thought back over the meeting, Azaleen was more convinced than ever that it was the best course of action. She hoped to receive a reply when Luke returned with the defector.It should be soon,she thought, staring at the map with a tactician’s eye.But do I send them north, to reinforce Stonevale, or south to guard the coast?
“My queen,” Sabine announced her presence at the door. Azaleen straightened, glancing up expectantly.
