“Andred doesn’t want to see you,” Usna sneered. “He’s busy right now.”
Fuck. The coiling, seeping dread that had been snaking through his gut since he’d first realized Keely was gone sharpened into a vicious poison. “He’ll see me now, or I’ll go.”
Usna threw his head back and laughed as the guards in the towers lifted their crossbows and took aim at Tor’s heart. “Go where?”
Tor raised his voice, making sure all the guards nearby could hear him as he called out, “Kill me then. I honestly don’t care. You all know about my family’s wealth—tell Andred he could have named his price and you lost it for him.”
“Fuck you,” Caius muttered, glaring at the other guards.
Tor shrugged and tugged at his horse, turning to go. His shoulder blades prickled with the awareness of the crossbows pointed at him as he took a step along the stony path and then another.
“Fine. Fuck. You can see him,” Usna grated out from behind him.
Thank the gods. He was in.
Tor turned back and followed Caius and Usna through the palisades and into the camp. It was exactly what he’d expected. Inside the palisades there was a deep trench, an open space and then neat rows of canvas tents flanking a central “street.”
He knew this layout like the back of his hand. There would be storage areas, a field hospital, drainage ditches, and most importantly, guard towers at all entrances, catapults along the walls, and almost certainly booby traps in the killing ground between the palisade and the tents.
He was in…. But how the hell were they going to get out?
They reached the center of the camp, where the most senior officers’ tents would be, and paused outside the most opulent tent of all. Made of leather rather than canvas, inside it would be warmer and quieter than any of the others. It was slightly smaller than most of the tents he’d passed, but it would sleep only one officer where the others probably slept six, and would still have enough space for a cot and a small desk.
He was about to step closer when he heard it. A woman cursing loudly and creatively, her voice rising in fear and anger. A voice he would know anywhere. Keely. “I told you to get the fuck away from me.”
There was a rumble of masculine laughter.
Keely’s voice lowered menacingly. “If you touch me, I will kill you.”
No. Absolutely not. All the fear and rage he’d been holding tight inside himself for so long roared up and through him in an agonizing tidal wave of fury.
Tor didn’t bother to consider the guards escorting him, his lack of weapons, or any kind of strategy. He ignored Usna and Caius’s roar of outrage and the scrape of metal as they drew their swords, and ripped open the leather tent flap.
It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the dim light cast by one small lantern; one more second to see Keely standing at the far side of a low camp cot, fists raised, face pale in the flickering light, her cloak hanging off one shoulder, hair loose and disheveled.
A large, familiar Apollyon stood in front of her, face drawn into a black scowl as he spun toward the chaos at the entrance to his tent, sword already half drawn.
Tor was nearly incoherent with the need for violence, but he forced the words out. “If you touch her, she won’t have time to kill you. You’ll already be dead.”
Andred looked at him, back to Keely, and then back to him again. Finally, his gaze settled on Caius and Usna, standing behind Tor with their swords up. “What the fuck did you let him in here for?”
Usna scowled. “He said he had a fortune to trade. If we shot him without offering you the option, you’d have been—” He swallowed whatever he was going to say and added, “We thought you’d prefer the choice, General, sir.”
Andred narrowed his eyes at the men, while Keely pulled her cloak back together and took a step away. Gods. That small movement was enough to nearly push him over the edge.
“What do you want?” Andred demanded.
Tor tilted his head in Keely’s direction. Wasn’t it fucking obvious?
Andred shook his head. “She’s about to tell me all about Alanna’s plans.”
“I’ll tell you Princess Alanna’s plans,” Tor growled. “She plans to get back to the nearest barracks as fast as she can. In fact, she’s almost certainly already safely locked behind the walls of the outpost at Staith and deployed additional guards. Reinforcements will be here within the day.”
Caius cleared his throat and admitted, “The guards report a Mabin flying overhead. He saw the camp.”
“One of the Hawks, traveling with the guards assigned to protect Alanna,” Tor agreed. “He’s probably already reported to Princess Alanna and briefed a messenger to ride hard for Kaerlud. As soon as Queen Lucilla hears about this encampment, she’ll order the troops to mobilize.”
Andred grunted roughly, tipping his head to one side as he glared at Tor. “Fuck.” He slid his sword back into its sheath with a harsh click. “Fuck it all.”
