“Let me guess: he doesn’t like the idea?” Tira says, reading the loaded look between Leon and me as she bites into an apple. Only she would have an appetite at a time like this. The sun isn’t yet peeking over the horizon, but we’ve reached our destination. Now we have a few hours to prepare for what daylight will bring.
Our camp is about eight miles from the border, and our soldiers are currently arming themselves, the clank of weaponry being sheathed and armor donned rising up around the tent.
“I don’tloveanything about this, Leon,” I say out loud. “But it’s the right thing to do.” I turn to the tall man silhouetted by the tent’s door. “General Becane, you agree, don’t you?”
“I know you have many more years of experience than me, Your Highness,” Becane says to Leon. “But I believe the queen’s request makes the most strategic sense.”
It had started yesterday when I noticed how close Leon’s soldiers stuck to me when they thought there was a threat. Apparently, Leon planned to have them act as my personal guard when the time for battle came. But I’ve been paying attention these last few weeks, listening carefully in every meeting with my generals, and I know that isn’t what’s best for Trova.
Leon grunts in frustration, struggling to find a counterargument. I feel his anxiety bubbling beneath the surface.
“If Harman’s spies are right,” I say, “then Caledon has about nine hundred troops, consisting of cleavers, clerics, and ordinary soldiers he conscripted from Godom.” I run my finger across the map to indicate how they’re spread out along the Miravow.
“We have more soldiers, but they have more magic,” I continue. “The numbers are on our side, but we could quickly lose the advantage. We’ve had no word from Fairon yet, and we can’t contact the dryads. What we do have is six incredible fae warriors with terrifyingly effective sensic powers.”
My eyes go to Leon’s soldiers, who line one side of the tent with Tira. So far, they’ve been silent and still, but now Damia and Phaia give me nods of acknowledgment, Hyllus offers me a small smile, and Stratton and Alastor grin at each other.
“Please, Your Majesty, you’re making us blush,” Stratton says.
“But it’s true,” I say. “And it’s why it makes no sense to waste you on babysitting me.”
“It wouldn’t be a waste,” Leon grinds out between gritted teeth. “Not if it keeps you alive.”
“Not to dampen the mood, but we’ll all be dead if we don’t win this thing,” Alastor points out.
“I might not be able to beat Caledon singlehanded, but you can’t deny that with my new skills, I can take care of myself,” I say to Leon.
“I will organize a personal guard to protect the queen, Your Highness,” Becane backs me up. “I’ll put some of my best men on it. You have my word. Queen Morgana is as precious to Trova as she is to you.”
Leon laughs, a slightly bitter sound. “You cannotfathomhow precious she is to me. If something happens to the queen,youstill have a battle to fight, an army to command, and a place to go home to.”
He takes a step closer to the general, lowering his voice to a growl. “But I will have no more wars worth fighting, nothing worth protecting. My home will have been razed from this earth—becauseshe’sit. So you must pray nothing happens to her, because otherwise I’ll be the one bringing this world to ruin before I join her in the Eternal Realm.”
A tense silence fills the tent. I’ve seen every side of Leon. The loving side, the tender side…but also the terrifying side. He’s still the fae who once kidnapped me from Elmere—the dark and menacing Nightmare Prince. There is no part of him I don’t love, but that doesn’t make himsafe. Especially to people who aren’t me.
Becane’s face is perfectly serious as he bows his head. “I’ll keep that in mind, Your Highness,” he says solemnly.
Alastor clears his throat. “Good, that’s settled then.”
In the end, the general chooses Captain Drisha to head up my protection alongside a collection of soldiers clearly chosen for their size or clever magical skill. The last addition rides up right before we’re due to set off, the gray pre-dawn light darkening his salt-and-pepper hair.
“Will, what are you doing here?” I ask as the old guard adjusts his reins.
“Mercer asked to join your security detail, Your Majesty,” Captain Drisha answers. “I assumed it would be acceptable, seeing as he said he’s an old friend of yours.”
“He is,” I say. “But?—”
“This is my job, Morgana,” Will says, his gentle eyes lit with a fierce determination. “I swore to your parents I would protect you. Well, here I am.”
I can’t deny that it would be nice to ride into battle with my friend at my side, and I’d be a hypocrite if I refused to allow people to put themselves in danger. It is, after all, what I just asked Leon to do with me.
“Alright.” I nod, and Captain Drisha signals for us to draw up beside the assembling line of soldiers. General Becane sits tall on his horse to my left, and I catch his attention.
“Have you spread the word about the trees?” I ask.
“Yes, Your Majesty. The soldiers have been informed to avoid touching any wood in the forest where possible.”
Tira’s on my right, a bow and quiver of arrows strapped to her back. Beside her is Harman, and I can see a cluster of other familiar faces beyond him. The Hand of Ralus have been hiding out in nearby towns and villages, waiting for our arrival, and now have emerged into the light.
