I nod. “We get in during the chaos of the night and attack. They’ll be exhausted by sunrise, and if we aren’t done with them yet, they’ll have to fight through the day without slumber.”
Uncle Brachett twirls a blade between his fingertips, his tongue tracing the hole no longer housing a canine. “The full moon is two days away. That’s not much time to prepare.”
I chuck a few logs on the fire. “I don’t think Sam has much more time than that.”
I ease into the chair beside Master Hull, and Grace perches on the arm of my lounger. “We let the men rest for the night and then filter into the safehouses in Southend and the citytomorrow. I’ll take my outfit to estimate current numbers inside the stronghold and determine our best entry point.”
Riot chimes in, peering apprehensively at me. “Your father always said the best entry is the waste dump access through the dungeon.”
“I won’t trust old information,” I grit out.
Although he’s probably still correct.
Riot throws his hands up in silent defense.
I address Ned, Longton, and Brachett. “Take whatever you require from the fortress to aid you. I’ll send one of my men with each group to our ten houses. Please split your men as you wish.”
Ned shakes his head. “This is insane, Kade. We’re at half strength, we’re tired—”
“What if it was your boy?” Master Hull snarls at Ned.
Ned’s jaw ticks as they stare at one another. “I’d make the same foolish choice.”
“Aye,” Master spits, sinking back into his chair.
“And what about you?” Ned asks, turning to Grace.
She starts at his forceful tone, and I glance up to her narrowed eyes and pinched mouth. “What about me, Ned?”
“We’re all about to risk our necks to take out this king and save your brother, and you’re going to deny us the strongest magic in the legion.”
I leap from the chair, my growl burning out of my throat. “How dare you,” I snarl, fisting Ned’s collar and dragging him to standing. “You havenorights to her choice.”
Grace decided long ago that her magic would belong to our children.
Ned glowers at me. “It’s been a long time since a woman has accepted. Would be nice right about now.”
“Give it up, Ned,” Master Hull growls. “Unless you want me to throw you in a pen with Riot.”
My Central station leader stands, towering over both of us.
Grace places her hand on mine, and I release Ned as she steps between us.
The eldest offspring of the last Master outranks me, the authority of the Heir is honored by all, but there’s never been an Heir who didn’t accept their magic. Until her.
“Make no mistake, Ned. I’ll be fighting right beside you,” she promises. “But if you speak of my magic again—” She takes a step closer, getting in his space. “I’ll send you to the Southern Continent, and you can start working on that territoryalone.”
He blanches at his Heir’s words—a certain death sentence.
Ned huffs, dropping into his chair, and Grace steps back. “Are we clear?”
His eyes flick to the fire and then up to Grace. “My apologies for the overstep,” he says in a defeated tone, although I’m uncertain of his sincerity.
Riot smacks Ned across the back of the head, and Grace’s lip quirks. “You’re forgiven. Now grow some balls so we can win this thing.”
Longton chuckles beside Ned, eyes creasing under his thick black eyebrows.
Ned clears his throat. “The Western outfit will need more clothing until our blood and belongings have adjusted from the temperate climate of the coast.” He rubs his rough hands together. “I’m already missing Broadbank, to be honest.”
