I wondered if that was true as we stepped into a parapet. Bows and stocked quivers were placed against the wall. I looked down at the dark road and fields ahead, seeing nothing.
“Are they down there?” I asked, recalling what I’d learned when they discussed strategies. “The wolven?”
“They are in the fields, well hidden, even from vampry eyes.” He placed his hands on the stone ledge, and the ring on his finger snagged my gaze. “The Guardians are in place, waiting for my lead. Those who can wield a sword are in the courtyard, and the others, the ones skilled with a bow, will be up here.”
Pulling my gaze from his ring, I looked over my shoulder. They were already arriving. Mortals who were too old to lift more than a bow. The Guardians escorted them to different parapets. The trickle of fear returned as I turned back to Casteel. “How many do we have? The final count?”
His jaw hardened. “One hundred and twenty-six.”
I pressed my lips together and closed my eyes as I forced myself to take a deep, even breath.
“I wish you’d gone with Alastir and Kieran,” he said quietly. “You would be far away from here. Safe.”
I opened my eyes.
Casteel stared into the darkness. “But I’m glad you’re here. Spessa’s End needs you. I need you.” He looked at me then. “But I still wish you weren’t here.”
I could accept that. “I wish you weren’t here,” I whispered. “I wish they weren’t coming.” I let a little of the fear through. “We still plan to free your brother and see mine, right? We still plan to prevent a war?”
He nodded.
“But after tonight?” I swallowed as I looked out to the western sky. “It may be too late. War has come to us.”
“It’s never too late. Not even after blood has been drawn and lives have been lost,” he said. “Things can always be stopped.”
I hoped so. I really did.
He turned to me, touching my cheek. “We may be absurdly outnumbered, but everyone who picks up a bow or sword to fight for Spessa’s End, for Atlantia, does so because they want to. Not for money. Not because joining the army was their only option. Not out of fear. We fight to live. We fight to protect what we’ve built here. We fight to protect one another. None of them—the Ascended, the knights, Solis soldiers—will fight with heart, and that makes the difference.”
I blew out a steadier breath. “It does.”
He was quiet for a moment, and then I felt his lips against my cheek, against the scars. “I will ask one other thing of you, Poppy. Stay up here. No matter what. Stay up here and use the bow. And if something were to happen to me, run. Go to the cavern. Kieran will know to find you there—”
“That’s asking two things of me.” Pressure clamped down on my chest.
“You are what they want,” he said. “With you, they will be able to do more harm to both Atlantia and Solis than if anything happens to me.”
“If anything happens to you—” I cut myself off, unable to go there when everything between us now was still so new, when it would breathe life into the fear I already felt. “These people need you more than they need me.”
“Poppy—”
“Do not ask me to do that.” I looked at him. “Do not ask me to run and hide while someone I care about is hurt or worse. I will not do that again.”
He closed his eyes. “This is not the same.”
I started to demand how it wasn’t when I heard the low call of warning from the fields. Both of us turned as fire sparked and a torch flamed to life in the distance, one after another until light spilled across the empty road.
Casteel signaled back as he reached for the hood of my cloak, pulling it up. As he fastened the row of buttons at my throat, the archers rushed forward, dropping behind the battlement walls.
Heart rate kicking up and breaths becoming too quick, I picked up a bow and an arrow out of the quiver—it was the kind I was familiar with—and stepped back so I wouldn’t be seen beyond the stone walls. Casteel remained where he stood, the only person visible to the approaching regiment. Instead of what marched forward, I stared at him, focused on the straight line of his spine and the proud lift of his chin. And as the silence gave way to the sound of dozens of boots and hooves falling upon the packed earth and the creak of wooden wheels turning, my senses stretched out to him. There was the bitter taste of fear, because he was no fool, but it was such a small amount because he was no coward.