I step to her right, Thane a shadow at my left. Gray, Rhett, Wes, Theo, and Jace hold the arc behind her. The shape of a wall.
I keep my voice low enough that only she and Thane can hear.
“Thane and I have the Feeders,” I say quietly. “If you’ll let us.”
She turns, meeting my eyes. For a fraction of a second, I see the hesitation—the weight of trusting someone else with this. Then her shoulders relax slightly.
“I trust you.”
She’s never said those words to me before. They settle something in my chest I didn’t know was waiting.
I nod once and turn away, already moving.
Thane falls into step beside me without needing to be told. We’ve done this before—different battles, different stakes, but the same dance. He knows when to lead and when to follow.
Right now, he follows.
The Feeders respond before I even open my mouth. They feel the shift in my energy, the way my focus clicks into place. Some straighten. Others tense. All of them watch.
My voice cuts clear through the rising wind:
“Mothers and children—lower hall, east corridor, the rooms there.”
A few women move immediately, gathering children close. Others hesitate.
“If you want to fight,” I add, meeting their eyes one by one, “stay. The choice is yours. Not mine. Not anyone’s.”
Several nod and step back into formation. The rest move toward safety without shame.
Good.
I turn to the rest—the fighters, the ones whose hunger has been sharpened into something useful.
Zira steps up beside me, her presence steady and sharp. She doesn’t need to be told what’s coming. She already knows.
“Fighters in thirds: northern wall, low gate, gardens.”
They move without question, already positioning themselves. Zira’s voice cuts through, reinforcing the command with quiet authority.
“Stay low. Stay sharp.”
“No one shows early,” I add. “You move on my signal.”
Thane steps forward, Zira falling into formation beside him, finishing the distribution with that clipped authority that makes people obey without thinking.
“The moment they breach the threshold, you hit from both flanks. Don’t give them the chance to organize.”
I reach for my magic—not to feed, but to command.
The Ether responds, curling outward from my chest in threads too faint for most to see. It’s stronger than I remember. I watch as it weaves through the clusters of Feeders, dampening their fear, sharpening their focus. Amplifying the quiet confidence that comes from knowing you’re stronger than they think.
I’m surprised as I feel Wes’s magic join mine as I lock eyes with him still standing near Bree—subtler, but just as precise. Learning from my lead in real time. He steadies the nervous ones, the young ones who haven’t fought before. I nod once. ??I knew he had it in him.
Then I push outward, toward the approaching army.
I lay a thin field over the approach—boredom, false ease, a whisper to the hindbrain. Not a glamor, just a nudge. Enough to make a watchman blink the wrong second. A soldier who thinks he’s safe is already halfway dead.
They may see our numbers, but they won’t know our strength. Zira stands at my left, eyes scanning the horizon.
