“Kovograd’s walls have never fallen,” said Oleg from beside him, as though reading Kass’s thoughts.
“They have never faced a foe like the Urkans,” Kassandr muttered in reply.
His gaze landed on the ships being readied at the pier. He scowled at the pleasure barge most frequently used by Oleg and Elisava for lazy days on the river. Today it would hold twenty finely dressed Zagadkians, headed by Elder Bogdan. Inwardly, Kassandr cringed. The barge was showy and ornate when what they needed was a show of strength.
“It should be you on that ship,” muttered Oleg, following his gaze. “Handing back the whore. Begging for their forgiveness.”
Kassandr’s beast growled, the tattoos pulsing along the backs of his hands. “She is better than you will ever be, Oleg,” he snarled, snatching his half brother by the collar.
“Your quarreling shames me,” said their father, approaching from behind. Still clad in his ceremonial robes, the man looked entirely unprepared for war. “Our kingdom faces great strife. We must unite against it.”
“Much like Lady Saga has said,” replied Kassandr, turning her unexpected words over in his mind.
You must make peace with clans beyond the river.
But she did not understand the bad blood between their two peoples. And with Urkan war horns now sounding on the wind,time was clearly not on the Zagadkians’ side. Kassandr cast a sidelong look at his father, whose pale-green eyes gazed out to the river. “What did the oracle tell you, Father?”
“It does not matter what she said.”
Kassandr turned to face him head-on. “I think it does.”
The high prince sighed, refusing to meet his son’s eye. “My heart demands I do everything in my power to foster peace. It is my sworn duty to keep my people safe.”
“And what the oracle said—” Kassandr didn’t need to finish his question. It was obvious whatever the oracle had told his father further endangered the people of Zagadka.
Kassandr felt a moment of guilt. This was all happening because he’d gone against his father’s orders and joined the delegation on the voyage to Íseldur—because he’d stolen Saga away from the Urkans. His impulsive choice had lost him Saga’s trust and might cost his kingdom everything.
“Perhaps they will accept our terms,” said Oleg wistfully. He clutched the wall, leaning closer, and for a moment, Kassandr pitied his half brother. After today, Zagadka’s innocence would be long gone. No longer would they believe their gods and secrets would keep them safe.
He opened his mouth to say something, but the wail of a war horn had him snapping it shut. The horns and drumbeats grew louder by the minute, and soon Urkan longships would drift into view. The Zagadkian delegation would welcome King Ivar and Prince Bjorn upon their ridiculous pleasure barge. Would try to buy peace with ore and grain and the promise of Saga Volsik.
“Excuse me,” said Kassandr, “I have work to do.”
He left his father and half brother in the gate tower and strode along the covered walkway leading to the keep. Just as he pulled the door open, Kassandr collided with a slight figure hovering in the doorway. His hands wrapped around Saga’s elbows, steadying her before she could fall on her arse.
“Saga,” said Kass, hands skimming up the backs of her arms. “A pleasure to run into you.”
Saga’s lacy veil had fallen askew, and she tore it from her head and threw it on the ground. His beast purred in appreciation—her fire was strong today. Good.
“They won’t surrender, Kass,” she hissed, glancing at the door leading to the defensive walls. “You know this…meetingis only a ruse.”
He nodded with a frown. “I do not doubt it.”
“We must gather provisions. Ready ourselves to fight.”
A slow smile spread across his face at her use of the word “we.” “At last,” he said, his grin growing wider, “here she is, my queen.”
Her expression grew thunderous.
“Come,” he said, before she could reply. “I will show you whatwehave already accomplished together.”
Kass led Saga to the military wing of the fortress, which bustled with activity. Apprentices sharpened blades and pikes while weapons masters passed out armored jackets and pointed helms. The warriors paused their work, gazes hardening as they looked upon Saga. Kassandr’s beast let out a low, warning growl, and the men bowed their heads in submission, then turned back to their tasks.
It wasn’t long before they entered his war chamber. It was a small, functional room, with unadorned walls and a floor of packed earth. Kassandr’s posadniki—chiefs from the eastern territories of Zagadka, each of whom was loyal to him alone—had gathered around the table over a map. But as Saga and Kassandr entered the room, all conversation halted.
The posadniki straightened, then dipped their brows in deference.
“Rise,” said Kassandr, waving a hand in irritation. He slowed his Zagadkian, hoping Saga could follow. “Morzh, an update?”
