“He’s only a youngling.”
“I don’t blame him,” Alec clarified, then tapped his fingers on the table. No one else offered ideas. The group had fallen silent. Was that it? Were they really out of options? Two days. What could Arianna hope to do in two days? Alec cleared his throat. “It’s time then. Rion, I trust you’ll be leading the front?”
Rion nodded, but Arianna noted the circles beneath his eyes. He needed sleep. They all needed rest. There was no time.
“Avalon will lead another. We’ll keep close and rotate warriors, pulling back as needed and inserting a new wave. We’ll need to focus on preserving our numbers as much as possible.”
“The Guardians might join without our prodding,” Rion said. “It’s not like they’ll sit by while the world burns.”
“They won’t be enough,” Eimear whispered, then caught herself. She sat straighter. “I apologize. It’s been a long day.”
“Is it all hopeless?” Arianna asked. “Does Vairik just win?”
Eimear didn’t respond.
No one moved.
“I’m fighting regardless,” Talon declared. “If I die on the battlefield, then so be it, but I won’t just lay down and accept my fate. Hell, who knows, maybe I’ll get the chance to take that bastard with me.”
Something in Raevina’s expression shifted, a gleam of admiration in her eyes.
“I’m fighting, too,” Rion said.
“I’m not sitting aside either.” Alec stood.
Saoirse raised a hand, and a servant emerged from the doorway, carrying glasses and another bottle. The female filledeach one. Saoirse lifted her bottle. “Here’s to someone finding an opportunity to send that bastard to hell.”
Zylah stepped forward first. She took a glass, clinked it against Saoirse’s, then downed the contents.
Saoirse laughed to herself. Arianna wondered if she was on the verge of hysteria. “Not sure I’ve ever planned a battle where we know we’re going to die.”
Alec reached for a glass next. “We’ll take him with us. One way or another, Vairik isn’t walking off that field alive.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Talon
Talon collapsed onto the plush sofa and crossed his bare feet, wincing slightly when the scars around his ankles rubbed against one another. He ignored the burning sensation. He probably could have asked Arianna to heal them, but she had enough to worry about. They all did.
Talon leaned his head back, staring up at the white ceiling without bothering to wipe up the drink that had sloshed into his lap.
Twenty-two.
Talon closed his eyes, allowing the half bottle he’d downed in the past hour to work its magic. He was glad he’d already removed his shirt, especially with the heat engulfing the space. It was always so gods-damned hot in here.
He leaned forward just enough to take another sip before reclining back again. Twenty-two, and here he was, having his last drink alone. Twenty-two, and death would claim him tomorrow night. Twenty-two, and he was spending his final night in luxury, surrounded by all the soft things he’d always taken for granted.
Talon’s jaw worked. They’d spent today in endless meetings, strategizing, and sending warriors out to quickly implement their plans. There was no time for second-guessing. No time to question whether their plans and traps were enough. They only had time to work through a section, make a quick decision, and pray it was the right one.
Talon laughed to himself. None of them even planned to win. It wasn’t about winning at this point. They’d accepted their fate. But no one was willing to go down without a fight. All they needed was one fatal blow. One moment. Their entire strategycentered on holding the line long enough to locate Vairik on the battlefield. If the male even bothered to show up. If he didn’t, they’d make do with taking at least half his forces to hell with them.
“What a shit way to go,” he whispered into the silence, staring up at the white ceiling once more. He’d always envisioned himself dying on the battlefield, his honor intact. He thought that maybe after a few centuries of peace, once he had children and a gorgeous wife, he’d meet his end by the blade of someone faster. Stronger. Younger.
But this. There was no honor in this. They were walking into a slaughter with a fool’s hope. They’d make an impact, sure, but there would be no one left to sing songs of their deeds. The Fae would become one with the earth, completely forgotten by the world. And if anyone ever did happen to uncover their bones, they’d only find the histories left by Vairik. Who knew what the male would write regarding the final siege. Probably something about rebels who had tried to destroy the land.
Ridiculous.
Talon took another long drink, cursing the fact that he’d left the bottle across the room. He needed to finish it if he hoped to get any sleep. They had another long day of preparation tomorrow.
