“We don’t have time,” I muttered, mostly to myself.
No, I didn’t have time to question any of this. Not when we had work to do.
Jesmine nodded seriously, her face shifting from that of a curious subject to a general. “Are you safe, Highness?”
Safe. What a word. But I answered, “I am. And your status?”
“We are in—”
“I don’t want to know.” I was relatively certain that if we’d made it this far, no one was listening to our conversation—but I couldn’t be sure.
Understanding fell over Jesmine’s face. “Yes, Highness. Do you—how much do you know of the state of the war?”
I cleared my throat.
It was embarrassing to admit just how little I knew. Now, with this connection to Vincent burning bright and painful in my chest, it seemed even more shameful.
I had been handed incredible responsibility, and how I felt about it made no difference—so far, I’d squandered it.
Jesmine’s image flickered, and I pulled the bowl closer to me, as if to drag her back by force.
“I want your assessment, not the Rishan’s,” I said. A convenient way of brushing off my own ignorance.
“We’ve lost… many of our remaining strongholds. We’re still fighting to defend those that remain, Highness. Fighting with all we’ve got. But—” A wrinkle of hatred flitted over her nose. “The Bloodborn are numerous and vicious. The Rishan we could handle. The Bloodborn are… challenging.”
That aligned with what I’d been seeing here. Raihn could wax philosophical about his dreams all he wanted. The ugly truth was that he had invited dogs into his kingdom and let them hide behind his crown while they murdered his own people. He was heavily reliant upon their forces.
Raihn had told me, once, that dreams counted for little. What counted was action.
Well, his actions were not enough. And mine had been severely lacking, too.
Jesmine’s face blurred again, her next words fractured. “Do you—orders?”
In a desperate attempt to save my connection to her, I pressed my thumb to the edge of the bowl and let more blood flow into it, but that just made her image ripple and made the headache at the back of my skull pound ferociously.
The sound of distant footsteps made me still. I peered over my shoulder at the door to my chambers—closed. The footsteps didn’t approach, then faded to an echo at the opposite end of the hall.
I turned back to the mirror. “I don’t have much time,” I whispered.
“Do you have orders?” she asked urgently.
Orders. Like I had any authority to be telling Jesmine what she should be doing.
“They’re coming after you at Misrada in two weeks,” I said, quickly and quietly. “It will be a big move. They’re stretching themselves thin—even the Bloodborn. They’ll be leaving the Sivrinaj armory unmanned in order to get enough forces there.”
Jesmine’s brow furrowed in thought.
“I don’t know if we could defend against that kind of manpower.”
“I don’t know if you could, either. But maybe you don’t have to.”
I hesitated here—standing on the precipice of a decision I couldn’t take back. The decision to fight.
I could feel Vincent’s presence like a hand resting on my shoulder.
This is your kingdom, he whispered to me. I taught you how to fight for a significant existence. I gave you teeth. Now use them.
“Evacuate Misrada,” I said. “Go after the armory while it’s unguarded. Raid it, or capture it, or destroy it—whatever is possible with what you have. Do you have the resources?”
Even through the foggy reflection, the steel in Jesmine’s stare was clear.
“It will be tight. But we have enough to try.”
I didn’t let myself waver, didn’t let my command falter, as I said, “Then do it. Enough running. Enough defending. We don’t have time for half measures.”
It was time to fucking fight.
INTERLUDE
There is nothing more dangerous than a bargain. No greater horrors than those you choose. No worse fate than one you beg for.
The man does not understand this yet.
There was little, actually, the man understands, though he doesn’t know that yet, either. He came from a small life in a small town, and spent most of his time trying to run from it. Of his limited options, he chose the one that gave him the most freedom. He loves freedom, the feeling of the sea wind through his hair. He loves it tonight, as his ship travels through the treacherous waters near Obitraes. They call it Nyaxia’s Hook—that little curved strip of land, given its name because it so often snagged unwitting human sailors like helpless fish on a line. The night is dark. The water is rough. The sky is stormy.