“Iwillstop you.” I stand up, my armor flowing over my body and my blades forming in my hands. “You’remyGuard, Vel. That means you don’t get to throw your life away because you’re tired of waiting. We fight together, or we don’t fight at all.”
She glares at me. I stare her down.
“Do you need a reminder of who I am?”
“No,Eldráfn,I don’t.” Her eyes drop.
I release my magic, returning back to the simple black tunic and pants I was wearing.
“Access.” Sorel’s voice breaks the tension, steering us back to the discussion at hand. “Even with two months of preparation,we will still have the same problem. The Dell worked because Cairn had eyes inside. How do we get that for Ivylock?”
“We gather what information we can from outside. Kaelith’s contacts, traders who move through the area, humans who have visited the preserve. We watch the roads, track the supply wagons, and learn the patterns of the movements in and out.”
“That will only tell us so much.” Kaelith frowns. “We’d know about the exterior, but the interior, the layouts, where fae are held and how the guards are organized … those will all be guesses.”
“Then we stop guessing.” Vel’s voice still has a bite to it. “We hit a supply wagon, take the guards alive and make them talk.”
“Guards don’t always know?—”
“Then we take someone whodoesknow. A supervisor, an overseer, someone with actual information.” Her eyes glitter. “I can be very persuasive."
She’s not wrong. Vel’s particular talents for extracting information were legendary even before the Sealing.
“It’s too risky,” Vessara says. “A missing wagon will raise questions.”
“Wagons go missing all the time. Bandits, weather, accidents.” Vel shrugs. “One wagon disappearing on a remote road isn’t going to make anyone think fae are planning an assault.”
My eyes drift to the window again. I could reach down the bond and find out where they are. How far they’ve traveled. Our steeds move fast. They will be miles away by now.
I wrench my mind back.
“—is bad luck. Two or more becomes questionable.”
“If we pick the right target, we will only need one.”
Kaelith glances at me. “It could work.”
Sorel rubs his jaw. “The problem is we don’t know which wagons carry guards worth questioning. A supply run mighthave hired swords who have never set foot inside the preserve. We need someone who’s actually worked the interior.”
“Then find one.” I turn from the map. “Can your contacts tell us which transports carry preserve staff? Guards rotating out, fae being taken to their new owners?”
“Maybe,” Kaelith says slowly. “It’ll take time to ask the right questions without raising suspicions.”
“You have two months.”
He nods. “I’ll start now, Eldráfn.”
The discussion shifts to logistics. Sorel suggests watching the roads directly, Vessara talks about how she’ll coordinate between villages, Kaelith says something about which contacts he’ll approach first.
I should be following this. Making decisions. Leading them.
But the Nightwild magic pulls at me, restless and insistent. It’s been like this since Therin walked her out of the door.
“—crossroads east of here? … Cairn? Are you listening to us?”
They’re all looking at me. I have no idea what Kaelith just asked me.
“Yes, I’m listening.”
