Page 129 of Fallen Nocturne

I raise an eyebrow.

“Most of the squadron broke from the crown after what the king did to Landon,” Glenn suddenly says. His arms are crossed and his jaw is tight.

“Cahill took his riders east,” Theo adds. “Kaelen went north. Last I heard, Brannick refused to fly entirely.”

“How many stayed?” I ask.

Theo’s expression hardens. “Finnbheara’s personal guard still rides with him. Twenty wyverns. All battle-trained and carrying riders loyal to the throne.”

Twenty wyverns led by Sanguisyl.

The wyvern that doesn’t breathe fire.

I close my eyes, the truth of it pressing against my ribs until I can hardly breathe. My kingdom against an army that size, backed by creatures from legend and led by a prince who commands a wyvern that can erase an entire city in seconds.

“There’s more,” Prince Vayne says, and I want to scream at him to stop. I can’t bear any more bad news, but I force myself to meet his eyes. “I know how Eirik Bloodhound thinks. He won’t send his full force immediately.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“He’ll send his worst generals first. The ones who command the most vicious beasts, the demons and the berserkers. He’ll use them to break your spirit because he wants you afraid.”

“That’s cruel,” Aelfric begins, then stops. His face has gone pale. “But it’s expected of him. That’s how the Fae King has conquered every territory he’s ever wanted. He defeats his enemies and destroys their will to resist.”

Their strategy is simple. Total brutality and carnage. He’ll try to breach our front lines within the first hour. Our soldiers will watch their friends torn apart by his ruthless creatures.

The Fae King is called Bloodhound for a reason.

Silence falls over the room. I can hear my own heartbeat and sense the fear radiating from everyone around me.

I look around the room at the faces staring back at me. These people who have served me, protected me, believed in me. Darstan and Siofra with their quiet strength, thinking of their young son. My uncle with his tactical brilliance. Aelfric with his unwavering loyalty, ready to die on the front lines. Hrolf, who broke his oath to forge me a sword. Garrett, who has protected this kingdom from the shadows. My sweet Blaire, who should be tending gardens and healing the sick, not preparing for war.

They’re all looking at me.

“We need to talk strategy,” I say in one breath. “We need to talk about how we’re going to survive this.”

I tap the map where the Great Plateau meets the edges of the Astefar border. “They’re bringing monsters from the Winterwood and Ironpeaks. But I can bring monsters too.”

Blaire’s eyes widen. “Rhianelle, you can’t mean—”

“I can summon them,” I say. “The creatures of Astefar. The ones who know me. The ones who owe me debts. Not every creature imprisoned there is loyal to the Fae King.”

I think of the forest, of nine hundred years spent walking among predators and learning their language, their rules.

The Nightmaw serpents hunt in packs. Miss Bernadette can swallow a mammoth whole.

“But can you control them?” Blaire asks practically. “It’s one thing to summon them, another to direct them in battle.”

I meet her eyes.

“They are fae.” I look toward the warriors of Landon’s legion. “They understand bargains. I know how to speak to them, and I know what they want.”

“How many can you summon?” Darstan asks, his expression grim.

“A dozen.” I can feel the summoning circles already burning in my memory, the words in the old tongue. “It won’t be enough to match their numbers. But it’ll make them think twice about what they’re facing.”

The Orc Prince steps forward then, and I see Blaire stiffen in my peripheral vision.

“Your Highness,” he says, his deep voice respectful. “I came here to offer more than just information. I came to pledge my allegiance. The orcs of Myrkheim should not be made to fight in the Fae King’s war.”