A rougher voice answered, “He paid what the Arcanth demanded.”
A captain near the front spoke, his voice carrying. “He left more of us alive than dead. He could have killed me on that mountaintop – but he didn’t.”
Another muttered, “The Arcanth didn’t have to bury the Thorne dead. We did.”
Tobias’s eyes darted across the crowd. “You will obey him from now on,” he said. His tone was commanding, final. It left no room for dissent.
Sebastian stepped forward. “I know what I have done.” The words rang out across the men, rougher than he intended, his emotions bleeding through despite himself. “Some of you lost brothers in Vallenna City, at the Fire Temple. Friends. Men who fought beside you.” He gazed across the soldiers, forcing himself to meet their eyes – the angry ones, the grieving ones. Even the ones who looked right through him. “I won’t ask you to forgive that. And I won’t dishonour them by asking you to forget. But I’m asking you to fight beside me anyway. I have led you before, bled beside you. I ask you to let me lead you one more time. Because when Draknor lands, we either stand together, or fall alone. Decide now.”
Silence fell. Unbearable, crushing silence.
Faces stared back at him – some hard, some uncertain. A few looked away. One man spat at the ground. Sebastian’s chest tightened. His father had been wrong to ask this of them. Tenet five was sacred – and he’d broken it – killed his own. Maybe they wouldn’t–
A voice called out from the back. Steady and familiar. “Thorne steel stands with you, Commander!”
Sebastian’s head whipped towards the sound. Edward. He’d been a friend before all this, trained alongside him in Thorne’s Keep. And there he was, standing straight and stoic as always. And speaking for him. Beside him, Cass – nodding with the same certainty. Another voice joined, then another. Not whispers, but cheers. Familiar voices, men who’d served in the Isles with him, faces he hadn’t seen since he’d left Thorne for the Arcalon, who remembered who he’d been before the Arcanth called. The sound spread, disjointed at first, reluctant. But thenit grew louder, rolling across the gathered soldiers until it filled the air. Sebastian let it wash over him, but he didn’t smile. How could he?
Not all of them cheered. Some stood silent, arms crossed, their expressions hard, unforgiving. Accepting his command because Tobias demanded it, but offering nothing more.
That would have to be enough.
So he drew himself up to his full height, called the captains to him, and began issuing orders – sharp, direct, unhesitant. Rations, rotations, fortifications. Language soldiers understood. The sort that made them forget, even if only for now, the stain of his betrayal. And it was frighteningly easy. Like slipping into armour he’d never truly taken off. Voices shouted back affirmations, lieutenants moved to relay his commands, and for a moment, he forgot everything else too. Forgot the Council. The stares. Forgot even Kara’s presence at his side. When he finally looked back at her, she was already watching him. And there was nothing in her expression but pride. Pure, unwavering pride. Her voice sounded in his mind.
Well done.
He let it fill him, glowed with it, then turned back to his men. The rest of the morning was taken by planning. Thorne captains moved in with maps, questions, reports from Simone’s admirals; the command tent became a storm of strategy, orders inked and re-inked, positions shifted and reconsidered. The Navyrian ships would be their first line of defence, shielded by Fatàn, buying them time – they’d thin the enemy’s numbers before the Drakens hit the shores. When the naval line fell – and it would fall, Sebastian was under no illusion – the Navyrians would abandon ship and swim to shore. Fatàn would shield the retreat. They’d be extracted by his men, folded into the land defences alongside Thorne on the sand. His father had already drilled them. The eventuality planned for. Sorrel and Lyra would hold the mountain ridges to the north and south where the sight lines were best. Durent anchored the barricades of timber and stone that they’d built – a crescent shaped wall set back from the waterline, separating the sand and the field. Caldris would be split both behind the barricades and up on the ridges, keeping minds clear and communications open. The weak point was the shore itself – half a mile of open beach where Drakens would hit hardest and fastest. That was where Sebastian would be, mounted with his men. Kara too. But he tried not to think about that.
Sebastian barely stopped to breathe. It was the afternoon when he began walking the lines with two of his captains. The stares and whispershardly registered now as he moved through camp. As they passed through he saw Sorrel men and women handing out rations. Salted meat, hard bread, things that wouldn’t spoil quickly.
One Sorrel woman murmured, “From our hands, the harvest,” as she handed a wrapped parcel to the archers before they took their positions in the mountains.
The archer clasped her arm, holding the provisions tightly. “From soil, the strength.”
Sebastian carried on, oddly reassured. He inspected the barricades, confirmed numbers, tested the timber bracing with his own hands. It was on the last one on the southern flank that a shadow fell over him.
“I built that one, Thorne.”
Sebastian looked up to see Gregor standing next to him, arms crossed, expression part affronted, part amused.
“You won’t find any weak spots there,” Gregor grunted.
Sebastian straightened. “No, I didn’t. It’s good work.”
Gregor studied him, then reached out and clasped Sebastian’s hand. Brief, but firm. “Glad you’re alive.”
Sebastian smiled wryly. “Me too.”
Gregor’s gaze moved to Kara at his side. Gave her a single nod. “Hale. Good to see you.”
And with that, Gregor turned and walked away. Sebastian watched him go. It may have only been three words, but they were the first kind ones spoken to him outside of his family, or men doing their duty. They meant something.
I’m definitely getting soft.
With that, Sebastian continued his inspection. Galen had been right – throughout the day, several hundred reinforcements from across Vallenna came pouring into the camp. Almost every family under every banner had answered the call. Against his better judgment, Sebastian felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe they would survive this. Kara stayed with him, listening, watching, Kaelen a step behind the whole time. Twice she offered quiet suggestions. One about the positioning of Healer tents, the other about the flow of supplies. She had good instincts. Both times, his captains had paused, considering, and then nodded at her, adjusting accordingly. Sebastian caught the faintest look of satisfaction on her face.
She could wear Thorne crimson as easily as her healer’s green.
He noticed Kara stiffen slightly when they walked past the Hale encampment, but she didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look in theirdirection. He knew she didn’t want to see her own people reject her. Sebastian saw it though, the looks, the judgment. And he hated them for it. It was shortly afterwards, whilst they weaved between the Lyran tents towards the outer defences, that a familiar voice carried across the path.
