Chapter 29
Morgana
By now, I’m used to the sound of an army on the move, the incredible din of hundreds of horses, wagons, and marching feet moving constantly forward.
It’s become like a heartbeat thundering in my chest over the past twelve days, reminding me of the power I have behind me. And the responsibility I bear.
I squint at the horizon, trying to make out the green band that indicates we’re nearing the Miravow. There’s a spot in the distance I think might be it, but it seems painfully far.
“It’s only another day at most,” Leon assures me as he pulls his horse up beside mine.
It feels like we’ve been on the road an eternity, every day another mire of tension and worry to wade through.
What if we don’t get there in time? How will we stop Caledon if he succeeds in capturing the cup?
At first, those were the questions spinning through my head.
It was only when I’d nearly driven Leon mad with them that my mind started throwing up new ones.
I’ve never been in a war—what if I can’t handle it?
What if my generals decide I’m not fit to be queen and mutiny?
It was Tira who settled that issue for me.
One night after we’d made camp, she helpfully pointed out that even if I was a crap leader on the battlefield, I came with Leon.
And the Nightmare Prince definitely knew how to play this game.
I’d sarcastically thanked Tira for her compassionate insight, but admittedly, it did make me feel a little better.
On that point, at least. There’s no shortage of other scenarios for me to worry about.
But it’s been nearly a fortnight of that, and even I’ve run out of anxious thoughts now we’re finally nearing the border.
Either we’ll make it or we won’t, and all the will in the world won’t make our armies march faster or our horses grow wings.
I breathe in Leon’s earthy scent, letting it ground me, only to have my focus drawn to movement in the distance.
“Do you see—”
“Yes,” Leon answers as a line of soldiers behind us also start pointing at the shape barreling toward us.
It’s moving incredibly fast, like an arrow flying through the air.
As it gets closer, it takes on the shape of a horse and rider, moving so swiftly across the ground, it’s like the animal’s feet are barely touching the earth.
A shout comes down the line, an order to prepare for attack.
Then the rider lifts something into the air—a flash of blue—and I see Harman break rank, bolting forward beyond our front line.
“Hold fire!” he shouts. “It’s one of ours!”
“Must be aesteri magic,” Phaia says as we watch Harman ride out to meet the newcomer. Hyllus is at my elbow, while Stratton’s on the other side of Leon. We’ve been riding at our own pace, in shifting groups, but they all closed in around the pair of us at the first sign of trouble.
Around me, I realize. They’ve fought alongside Leon long enough not to worry too much about his safety.
I make a note of this for later. Right now, Harman’s coming back to us with the other rider at his side.
The woman looks windswept, but her horse seems unaffected by having traveled at such supernatural speed.
I mentally agree with Phaia; it could only be aesteri magic that allowed them to go so fast, which is very useful if you need to deliver—
“A message,” Harman explains, his face tense. “From our spies near the border.” He looks toward the woman and nods.
“The Temple forces entered the Miravow this morning, but they don’t seem to be moving toward Starfall,” she says, a little breathless. I’m sure she knows how important the information she carries is.
“What are they doing instead?” Leon asks.
“They’ve spread out throughout the forest, a long line from east to west.”
“Like they’re looking for something,” I say, my eyes meeting Leon’s. “Caledon must think the cup is hidden in the Miravow itself.”
“Damia, go update Becane,” Leon orders, and the fae soldier takes off toward the Trovian general.
Alastor sighs. “I was looking forward to getting some sleep tonight.”
I share his disappointment, but he’s right. We can’t stop and rest now. Caledon’s forces will likely stop searching the Miravow when the sun sets, but that’s the precious time we need to catch up to them.
And when morning comes, the war will truly begin.
“You really love to test me, don’t you, Ana?” Leon says, glaring across the tent at me.
“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’t love anything 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 cannot fathom how precious she is to me. If something happens to the queen, you still 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—because she’s it.
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 him safe. 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.