“Yeah, that’s not how this works,” I say before I can stop myself. When he looks down at me, I lift my chin, meeting his gaze. “You literally dragged us all to Nightfall to help save your world.”
“Our world, apparently,” Jules adds, and she’s right.
“We’re not porcelain dolls,” Delia says.
“I came here to fight beside you, Dagan,” I announce, and feel his pride through our bond.
“Yes, well, speak for yourself,” Phoebe mutters. “I’m fully expecting Kael to try to put me in a bubble at some point.”
“It would be a very protective bubble,” Kael offers blandly.
She shoots him a look that says do it and die.
Dagan moves to my side, his fingers tighten on my shoulder.
“I understand you wish to fight beside me, Alina, and nothing you say could make me prouder?—”
“I get it,” I cut in. “You’re the Lords of Nightfall. You all lead. You protect. It’s very noble and dramatic and manly. But I’m a scientist. Delia’s an EMT. Jules is a teacher and whatever the hell you call a queen who also carries a Dragon Lordling. Phoebe is?—”
“An aquatic animal specialist with a black belt in research,” Phoebe supplies.
“Exactly. We’re not just decoration. So start talking to us like we’re part of this because, let’s face it, you four made us a part of this.”
Silence stretches.
Then, slowly, Thorne nods.
“She sounds like my Delia,” he murmurs to Dagan.
“Ha! Delia sounds like herself,” Delia says. “And Alina sounds like herself! We just happen to be right, though.”
Jules exhales. “Alaric, I know you want me and the baby safe. But you need to stop trying to sideline us and tell us the plan.”
Alaric drags a hand through his hair, silver eyes flashing.
“I’m so sorry, Jules. I didn’t mean to cut you out,” he begins, and moves to her side.
“The plan is to stop Idris from taking the Crown and shattering the forges. The SoulTakers are hitting in waves. We will divide forces as needed and?—”
“No.”
The word is out of my mouth before I process it.
Four Demon Lords turn to stare at me again.
I push past the sudden spike of fear and barrel on.
“Dividing is what he wants. You said it yourself—it’s a diversion tactic. He spreads you thin, picks you off, and keeps pushing until something gives.”
“The realms must be defended,” Dagan says. “The Marches. The Plains. The Tides. The Eyrie.”
“And they will be,” I insist. “But maybe not by all of you at once. You’ve got soldiers. Legions. Miners who know the tunnels. Wards that scream the second someone sneezes wrong near the Vein. You four—and whatever the hell that Crown is waiting for—are the linchpin. If he takes one of you out?”
I shake my head.
“The system cracks.”
Phoebe leans forward, eyes sharp.
