A heaviness settles in my heart, the sensation of a stonesinking, the same feeling I experienced in the Alak-Teah before I collapsed.
I take a moment before I speak, listening to the heartbeats of the soldiers standing in front of me.
They aren’t exactly calm. They’ve survived battle and their general has been taken prisoner. But when they look to me, their fear doesn’t spike like it used to.
I speak carefully. “If I take an army to Iker’s door, it will invite outright war. Many of you will die.”
“We have not died yet, Lord,” another soldier says, wiping the soot from his face.
I acknowledge him with a nod. “Be that as it may, I need you here at the border. It seems the new Iron King, Hadrian, wishes to make his mark. You must fortify each tower with ice and snow. Prepare yourselves with protective clothing and masks. He may have wanted to crush us, but he made a tactical error in revealing his hand. He won’t take us by surprise again.”
It’s more than I’ve said to any of them. Ever.
A ripple of agreement thrums through the group—a growing group as more soldiers arrive.
“What about Lilis, Lord?” another soldier asks.
Thyra’s voice sounds clearly behind me. “We will bring her home.”
She reaches my side and stands tall beside me, dressed in black, no hint of her pain. Not to them, at least. The soldiers won’t be able to hear the Lethian armor humming sorrowfully against her skin or detect the underlying tones of trauma in her voice.
But they won’t miss the determined press of her lips and the way she squares her shoulders before she says, “We will make Iker pay. As we will make Hadrian pay. They will know that if they strike us, we will strike back.Tenfold.”
She scans the group, a snarl on herlips. “Yes?”
“Yes, Oracle!” they roar back at her.
She casts a sharp eye across the men. “Now do as your king has commanded.”
The soldiers all bow deeply, and the man who first spoke addresses Thyra first, “Oracle,” and then me, “Lord,” before he steps back and begins issuing orders to the other soldiers, who quickly disperse.
Nara edges up to us, growling quietly. She was smart to stay back during my interaction with Antony, but one look in her eyes tells me she understands how fraught the new battle we’re headed into could become.
“If Iker has Lilis, we don’t have time to waste,” Thyra says, stepping toward Nara. “He will hurt her.”
There’s no easy way to say it. “Undoubtedly, he already has.”
Thyra shudders visibly. Her heart is hurting; I can feel it, bone-deep.
I want to sweep her up onto Nara’s back and take her back to the palace, instead of into battle, and pretend I live in a world where, for once, I can keep safe someone who is precious to me.
Thyra alights onto Nara’s back and reaches down to me. I don’t ignore her gesture, running my palm smoothly across the back of her hand as I leap on behind her.
I give Nara a short whistle that sends her sprinting northward, away from the jagged trees and toward Iker’s compound.
I wish it were possible to speak easily while we travel. I need to tell Thyra about the wood-handled daggers and ask her about her blade vision, but at this speed, Thyra and I must both lean sharply forward, bracing against the wind and holding on as Nara’s powerful feet spray snow and ice into the air around us.
Thyra has respected my silences and I want to respect hers, but every ragged breath she drags into her chest tells me she’s paying a price and I don’t know if it’s because of Antony, or her blade vision, or possibly even because of me.
All I can do is raise my hand to her heart and hum at her ear. Not a magical sound to influence her mood. Just a soft song.
Some of the tension leaves her body.
She pulls my arms tighter around her.
I nearly miss her whisper, a strange thing for me, but she’s speaking barely above an exhalation. “I have too many fears.”
What can I say, except what I know to be an absolute truth? “You don’t have to carry them alone. I’m here.”
