25 THE QUEEN
It took time to move an entire war camp. Still, the hybrids were working quickly, the noise rising to a crescendo throughout the day as soldiers called to one another, horses and carts clattering past my tent. From the constant sound of rustling around me, it was clear some of the other tents were already being packed away.
I would likely only have one chance to speak to Zathrian. Once we left this place, we were marching to battle. Prisca leaving her cousin alive was foolish but entirely expected. And she would live to regret her mercy.
Thankfully, Previs was still the posted guard outside my tent during the day. At night, another guard took over—a grim-faced, gruff, older hybrid with a gray speckled beard who refused to even acknowledge me.
Previs had continued to lead me to the latrine and had even taken me to stretch my legs purely for some exercise. At one point, Marth had stomped over, leveling the guard with a cold look.
“What are you doing?”
“T-taking her to the latrine.”
Marth’s cold eyes had met mine. “I’m watching you.”
I’d angled my head, looking back coolly. When I didn’t reply, he snorted, stalking away.
But the other soldiers grew used to seeing me walking through the camp, Previs by my side.
Twice now, we’d walked directly past the tent I was sure was holding Zathrian. Different guards had been posted outside, and all of them had looked at me as if I were a snake in the grass.
The bare bones of a plan came to mind.
Previs had grown lax, unlocking the manacles from my wrists and leaving them behind entirely. I’d made a point of letting him see the chafing and bruises they had caused when we’d walked a day earlier, wincing as I’d stroked the tender skin. And I’d kept my arm wound through his while we strolled, as if we were two friends taking a walk in a garden.
The idiot seemed to like that.
Fae iron didn’t affect humans the same way it did hybrids and fae. So, while the manacles were heavy and unwieldy, they didn’t dampen my power. The tiny amount of magic available to me remained entirely consistent.
But I could work with that.
As far as Previs was concerned, I had the smallest bladder in four kingdoms. But I needed each walk to plan my distraction. And he seemed more than happy to lead me to the latrine—as opposed to standing outside my tent in the sun.
All I needed was a simple diversion. For two days now, I’d been waiting for the tiniest distraction. Something I could do to draw the soldiers’ attention.
Each time we took our little walk, my gaze darted in every direction, my hold on Previs’s arm tightening until he cast me a concerned glance.
Panic began to burn a hole in my chest. I was running out of time. A flurry of activity had transformed the orderly encampment into organized chaos. The large command tent was already coming down, soldiers working in unison to fold heavy canvas and disassemble the supporting frames.
Most of the tents around us were being collapsed, each piece of canvas, every peg and pole were being efficiently packed, the hybrid soldiers’ movements precise. Bedrolls and personal belongings were being rolled up and stowed in packs, while tents and other supplies were loaded onto waiting carts. Soldiers yelled orders at one another, their booming voices carrying over the clanking of equipment and the rustle of canvas.
Of course, no one had seen fit to tell me when we would be marching. But it was evident that soon, we would be on the move, and I would have no other opportunity to put my own plans into place.
“Your Majesty?”
I turned to offer Previs a gentle smile, keeping my gaze low so he wouldn’t see the fury that likely burned across my face.
Someone began cursing roughly. I lifted my head.
A soldier had been leading his horse toward the stables. It was easy to see what had happened, a tent flap broken free, flying in the wind.
As I watched, the horse threw its head so hard, it yanked its lead rope from the soldier walking with it.
A hoof made contact with the soldier’s shoulder as it reared, sending the soldier flying. The horse bolted toward us, careening down the row of tents.
The yelling turned to panicked shouts. Which turned to curses and—in one case—a high-pitched scream.
Previs attempted to pull me to the right. I slipped my arm free and dove to the left. And then I rolled.
I wouldn’t get another chance like this. This was a distraction provided by the gods themselves. Proof that my planned path was one that they approved of.
At one point, the hybrids had swapped my filthy gown for some soldier’s castoffs. I’d been thoroughly disgusted at being forced to walk around dressed in long pants and a tunic. Now, I more than appreciated the fact that I wasn’t forced to contend with all that fabric while crawling through the gap between two tents.
The horse hadn’t yet been caught, but it would be soon. And those soldiers would turn their attention to the fact that I was missing.
I wiggled faster, keeping my head low. By now, I knew the exact route to get to Zathrian’s tent from anywhere within this camp. When I was several rows away, I could no longer crawl without drawing attention. Here, soldiers glanced with interest at the chaos to our right but continued to go about their tasks.
Getting to my feet, I strode purposefully but not too quickly. My heart was in my mouth as I beelined toward the row that would take me behind Zathrian’s tent. But everyone was too wrapped up in both their tasks and the distraction the horse had caused to pay me much attention. It likely helped that they’d seen me walking this way many times with Previs.
I almost tripped on a rope holding one of the tent pegs in place, but I took it as a sign, dropping back to my knees as I approached Zathrian’s tent. The canvas was so taut it was difficult to lift, and I was forced to wrestle with it, a sweat breaking out across my forehead as I shoved one arm beneath the tent.
No sound came from inside the tent. My blood turned to ice. Had I chosen the wrong tent? I would have only one chance at this.
I lifted the canvas high enough to shove my head beneath it, conscious that if a jumpy soldier was waiting in this tent, it could be the last thing I ever did.
“Well, well, well.” Zathrian smirked, lounging on one elbow as if he were choosing to lie down and not because he was chained even closer to the long metal pole than I had been. “Why am I not surprised to see you stealing into my tent?”
At that, I shoved with all my strength. If anyone saw my legs hanging out from the side of this tent, I was dead.
“We don’t have much time.”
Zathrian lifted one eyebrow as he took in the dust that covered me. “I’m sure.”
“Do you still wish to take your crown?”
All amusement left his face. “You came here to taunt me?”
“No. I came here to bargain with you. It’s still possible for you and me to be the ones left ruling at the end of this.”
He angled his head but stayed silent.
I gave him a cool, calm look. The look I’d perfected in Regner’s court. “I spoke to my son. He will use his power for the correct purpose when it is time.”
Zathrian sat up. “I’m listening.”
Demos had been right.
The fact that Regner had allowed Rekja to push his soldiers out of Gromalia didn’t make sense.
Until we received Prisca’s message and the pieces suddenly fit together.
The soldiers Rekja had thought were retreating were really moving west, toward the Asric Pass—where they would slaughter the hybrids who had been traveling toward the pass for weeks.
Regner had waited like an insidious spider himself, as we’d moved our people into his web. How he must have laughed when we finally began sending our people to the pass.
Right where he wanted them.
That heavy cloud had settled over me once more, my mind slow and thick as fog.
It was up to Demos to tell his aunt of Regner’s true plans. And as usual, he didn’t hesitate. Didn’t put off the task. Didn’t even attempt to truly soften the blow. Because that wasn’t who Demos was.
And still, sorrow darkened his eyes when Telean turned white. She swayed, and he caught her hand, leading her to a chair in her room.
“Of course,” she said, and her voice was drained of life. “Of course, he would kill the most vulnerable of us first. So that the rest of us lose all hope.”
Standing next to the window, Gwynara was pale. “All those children…”
“Map,” Demos said.
Gwynara opened Telean’s door, calling to Brinlor. He appeared back with a map in his hand, and together, we helped him roll it out on the low table.
“When we traveled toward the mine, Regner’s regiments were here, here, and here.” Demos stabbed his finger into several spots within Eprotha. “They’ve moved locations since Lorian went on his killing spree when Prisca was taken, but I could never understand why Regner was gathering his soldiers in central Eprotha.”
I nodded. “When we traveled back to meet Telean, there were no signs of those regiments.”
“Yes,” Demos said. “If he’d moved them south, our scouts would have noticed them. Not to mention, Rekja would have sent messages, begging for aid. But instead, Regner pulled his soldiers out of Gromalia.”
“Our own army was marching north to meet up with Rekja’s regiment,” I pointed out. “Perhaps Regner was unprepared.”
Demos shook his head. “We have twenty thousand soldiers in Gromalia at most. A third of them are fae, but Regner would have made allowances for that with his stolen magic.”
“He knew we were moving our armies into position in Gromalia,” I said.
“Yes. And his spiders are everywhere. Regner had to know Conreth would also be joining our armies. Not to mention Daharak’s fleet moving south…” Demos’s voice turned cold with rage. “He’s only sending some of his foot soldiers to the Asric Pass. The rest of them will be moving northwest toward the Normathe Mountains. Thousands of his soldiers will take the fucking Normathe pass and prevent our people from using the hybrid tunnel to Lyrinore. Our people will have nowhere to go.”
My lungs seized, and the room seemed to recede, until the map was all I could see.
“We need to move our army,” Telean said. She sounded as if she’d aged ten years. My heart ached.
I studied the map as I held my side down. “Where to? If we’re moving the hybrids through the Asric Pass, they’ll end up on the western side of the continent. Prisca thinks Regner will attack from the Sleeping Sea, which means our people will be pinned down between his ships and his army marching from the east through the pass. If our army marches in behind them, we can kill Regner’s soldiers at the back of his lines, but our people will still be slaughtered.”
Demos just nodded. His eyes darted over the map.
“We order them to travel through Eprotha and over the Normathe Mountains before Regner’s army can take it,” Demos said.
“Are you out of your mind?” His words brought Telean back to life. “They can’t march through the middle of Eprotha.”
“Why not?” Demos stabbed his finger into the middle of the human kingdom. “As we’ve just seen, Regner’s regiments are now nowhere to be found.”
“Because they’re going to be traveling through the Normathe Pass,” I said, staring at him.
“They are. But I think we can beat them there.”
“How?”
“It takes time to move fifty thousand human soldiers. They need to rest more often and for longer than the hybrids and fae. Regner already has a problem with morale. And we’re going to slow them down much more. It’s time to send a message to Natan.”
My heart raced. “He wanted to slow down the army, but he also wanted to use his people during battle. To create chaos in Regner’s lines…”
I let my voice trail off. I didn’t need to say the next part of my sentence. That if Natan’s people were successful, they would likely be caught and killed long before we faced Regner.
“If we don’t slow down that army, there won’t be a battle. There will only be a slaughter. Natan’s people have already been spreading misinformation, inciting infighting, and disrupting communications. Now, they’ll begin sabotaging equipment, tampering with supplies, and targeting generals.”
A slick sweat broke out on the back of my neck. If they were caught, they were dead. And yet, if their tactics could buy us even a few hours to get our army to the Normathe Pass first…
“It will still take time for our army to travel north,” Demos said. “So, we need to get to Vicer and the three thousand hybrids with him. We’ll guard the mouth of the Asric Pass and buy our people as much time as we can until help arrives.”
Silence claimed the room.
It was insane. At the very least, it was audacious, risky, and dangerous.
But it was our only chance. There was no other way to position our army along the coast to protect our people.
“Logistics,” Telean croaked.
Demos sighed. “Kaelin Stillcrest said the pass through the Normathe Mountains is more dangerous than the Asric Pass, but it was her only plan if they were ever attacked. Of course, that plan relied on their scouts noticing that Regner’s guards were on their way several days before they actually attacked.” His expression darkened, and his hand tightened slightly on his corner of the map before he released his fist, smoothing the parchment back out.
“We need Rekja to march the rest of our army,” Demos said into the silence. “Now. If they cut west through Gromalia into Eprotha—near Crawyth, they’ll avoid Regner’s regiment. From there, they head north.”
“They’re going to be exhausted,” Telean said, her eyes stark.
“They will,” Demos said. “We’re scrambling to get our armies into place. And once they arrive, they’ll be tired from traveling so quickly. Morale will be low, and so will supplies. Regner is getting exactly what he wanted.”