Chapter Forty Anton
Chapter Forty
Anton
His messages wouldn’t reach the Syndicate in time for them to gather forces and intervene. And Anton would be damned if he’d let Sadira stand alone against the brunt of Maksim’s forces.
Word came by messenger that Sadira was riding out to the front to meet the attack—an attack that was already under way, because Maksim’s troops were ordered to move ahead of his arrival. Time was of the essence.
All in all, Anton had gathered twenty-two hundred men—those who were available and willing to ride at a moment’s notice.
The rest would come after, once word had spread of his return.
That was the task he gave to the few lords who had stuck by Gustav’s side.
The same could be said for the ones who didn’t.
Seeing Anton had been a shock, as was the tongue-lashing he’d delivered.
Even so, his order was clear: Deliver the truth to their men, set the record straight, then report for duty or leave Miridran altogether.
Most fell on a knee rather swiftly. Others had the gall to question him—to which he responded with a demotion in rank.
Basile rides next to him, decked in armor like his own, his long braids tucked into a glass-refracting helm.
When Basile heard of Anton’s return, he raced to the war room and tackled him sideways, sending him crashing to the floor.
Ishu hadn’t even blinked, pacing to plop down next to them both, going as far as to roll and expose her belly.
Both Anton and Basile laughed—then wept. Souls, he’d missed his captain. He hadn’t realized how much.
The journey to the Razami border takes half a day, but to Veria, the capital, it would take just under two.
It feels like much longer, though, what with his racing thoughts. Too often, his mind clings to Vasalie. The scent of her hair, the silk of her skin, the way it felt when her nails trailed up his scalp—
He would return for her soon. He’d make good on his promise to Moranya, too.
But while he was arrogant enough to put Ademi at risk, his love for Vasalie goes well beyond his pride.
He would never put her in harm’s way. It was difficult enough when he couldn’t simply get her off the isle during the Gathering.
Begrudgingly, though, he forces his focus back onto strategy. On how he might win this Fates-damned war—or at least buy time for the Syndicate to intervene—despite being vastly outnumbered.
Finally, they make it to the queen’s outpost well after dark.
Tents weave through the forest, Razami soldiers busy erecting even more.
Even from here, Anton can see where the trees thin along the beach, grass giving way to sand.
To the east, where rocks pry out of the dunes, there are several Brisendali tents, with their ships just beyond.
The battle has stopped for the night. Even so, he can hear the camp in the distance like an unsettling hum.
He really should have brought Ishu. But he’d left her with Gustav, should things go terribly wrong. He wouldn’t put it past Maksim to send an assassin to ensure a power vacuum in the case that he won.
When they enter the camp, Anton tugs down the hood of his cloak and announces himself. Arjuna, who is reloading his quiver a few paces away, recognizes him swiftly. “My mother is this way,” he says, directing them to a large black tent just to the west.
Anton hops off his horse, following Arjuna.
They push through the tent flaps, and then Sadira is there, bent over a table with a map in its center alongside Mantrin and Veer, another two of her sons.
When she looks up, she blinks twice. Scowls.
“Anton Orvere. What in the Fates-forsaken souls are you doing here?”
“Always a pleasure to see you, my Queen.”
She comes to stand before him. “I see you are back to yourself.”
“In all my wit and glory.”
“Dare I ask how?”
“Later, considering the situation we find ourselves in,” he says, gesturing beyond the tent. “I left my men a few miles back. Do you have enough armor to disguise them? I don’t want Maksim to know we’re here. At least not yet.”
“We should have enough, yes. But are you forgetting something, Anton?” She places her hands on her hips.
Ah, yes. “The prophecy.”
“You made us lock you up,” she says, “for fear of what you might do. And now you want to enter a war?”
“It was my absence that gave Maksim permission to attack. One could say I’m already the reason, if only because I let fear keep me away.”
But Vasalie had believed in him. She had held him accountable for his inaction—and that, he realized, was his greatest sin.
“Moranya’s curse is broken. I am more whole than I ever have been, and I will not stand idly by and let this happen. Will you stop me?”
“Stop you?” She barks a laugh, then cups his cheek with her hand before dropping it to his shoulder. “I have always respected your wishes, Anton. I will do so again—only this time, I’m arming you to the teeth.”
He grins. “Good, because I have a plan.”