Cadmus stood at the table, deep in conversation with the Dread Seven captain, a young man named Ryland Everette. He was Ashkendoric by birth; she could tell from his accent, which reminded her painfully of Evander’s.
The rest of the captains, colonels, and generals entered one after the other and bowed in silent deference, but they seemed discomfited by her presence, darting looks at her as they talked amongst themselves.
Cadmus waved for everyone to approach the table and said, “We are awaiting Dread Five.”
“I've heard the captain is a mercenary,” Everette said. “Is that true?”
“What of it?” Cadmus replied with a shrug. “He has talent, and that is where my interest lies.”
The doors opened, and Valenna craned her neck and stood on her tiptoes to see over the taller men around her, curious who the new Dread Five commander was. When he entered, she bit down on a cry.
It was Haldir. He smirked at her and she stared back, her lips slightly parted. He belonged in Silvanlight; he was a fixture there. How was he here?
Still reeling, she turned her attention to the captain entering behind Haldir.
And her heart leaped.
It was Evander.
What was he doing here? All the times he’d run and now, after the terrible sin she’d committed to save him, he decided to be a contrary little skat and walk right into her father’s inner circle?
He strode into the room in his tailored Sennalaith uniform, his boots clicking on the tile floor. The outfit flattered his broad shoulders and long lines. He moved with effortless grace, all confidence and power, like he was born in a military uniform.
For the first time since she’d met him, she recognized the Ashkendoric prince in him. She prayed her father didn't see it, too.
Evander’s attention snagged on her, and the briefest flash of recognition lit his face. The muscle at the hinge of his jaw tensed as he took in her low neckline and thin dress.
He was alive. Thank the Only, he was alive and whole. Valenna’s knees trembled, and the weight of her body was too much to support. She staggered, steadying herself on the table.
Cadmus glared at her. “Valeria, what is the matter with you?”
“Nothing,” Valenna replied. “I haven’t eaten yet today.”
“Captain Trevelyan, you are late,” Cadmus said, turning his attention to Evander.
“My apologies, Your Majesty,” Evander said with a practiced bow. “The dragons were restless this morning.”
“We prize punctuality in this realm,” Cadmus said.
“Again, my apologies,” Evander repeated, “but dragons are known to breathe fire, and the buildings here are built of wood. Wood is, regrettably, flammable.”
Valenna covered her mouth to smother a gasp. Her eyes darted to her father. Was he furious? Was he insulted? Would he lash out and have Evander flogged?
But Cadmus only chuckled. “Very well, Trevelyan. We’ll excuse it this once. Don’t let it happen again.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Evander flicked a look toward Valenna.
Valenna’s heart hammered so hard, she feared it might burst out and flutter away. She watched her father, trying to read his expression. How was it he hadn’t recognized Evander? Perhaps, after so much bad luck, they’d gained one victory.
“We’re behind schedule,” Cadmus said, and Evander stepped up to the table, his expression placid. Most men cowered at her father’s displeasure; Evander hadn’t even paled.
“As you know,” Cadmus said, “this war has dragged on for two decades. We are running out of funds and soldiers, dragons and shotfires. It is time for it to end. The key to it all is the Scathmore Barrens. The gateway to Ashkendor.”
“Scathmore may be a no man’s land,” Everette said. “But it is easily defensible by Ashkendor.”
Cadmus continued, “Any day now, a land force will reach Ashkendor’s eastern border, where they will attack the capital city. When that begins, the Ashkendoric army will divert all its resources to protect its capital, and we will move this army across the strait of Hethria and seize Scathmore. They will not expect it.”
