28.
“I have to go alone,” Thalia said.
Ferith clenched her fists and paced, eyeing her like she wanted to protest. Finally, she answered, “Did you even try to make up a story that included both of us?”
She shook her head. “This was the most believable, and one person seems harmless enough. If I added you to the mix, how would I explain it? You’re not even in disguise.”
“True.” The Noxblade let out a long, exasperated breath, but her eyes were dark with worry. “If anything happens to you—”
“Then I wasn’t meant to lead. Don’t hesitate to swear fealty to whomever emerges on top in the grapple for the throne.”
A sudden slap rocked Thalia back on her heels, and she gaped at Ferith, tasting the blood now trickling from her mouth from where her inner lip split against her teeth. She touched her mouth in silent shock, but there was more startlement to come.
Ferith glared at her. “If you go in with that mindset, you will fail, and you will die. We came to win, your highness. I’ll do my best to get in on my own and back you up, but if I can’t, your brain and your blade will carry the day. Do you understand?”
Her eyes teared up, not from the pain. Nobody had ever cared enough to slap her before. Not even Lileth. Ferith…Ferith is my friend. She’d never had one before, at least not so that she was certain. It was all distance and protocol and etiquette, endless years of it.
She blinked away signs of weakness and nodded.
“Yes,” Thalia said.
She didn’t waste her breath on any last words. Whatever it took, she’d get this done and meet up with Ferith afterward. Raff, too. She felt strong enough for that confrontation as well. Without a single look back, she hurried toward the vegetable truck and found the vendor waiting at the back.
He hesitated, studied her split lip and then said, “Was that one of your boyfriend’s relatives?”
Ah, he saw that.
Thalia lowered her head, pretending to be too cowed for eye contact. “Yes. She didn’t even want me to say goodbye to Eldred.”
“She didn’t have to hit you,” he muttered. “Well, get in back and keep quiet. If they inspect the goods, let me do the talking.”
“All right. Thank you.”
Raff would laugh at her impression of a meek Animari female, mostly since she’d never met anyone who fit that profile, but her people didn’t have much experience with them, so this was the best way to elicit sympathy. She hopped into the cargo area and the doors closed. Two or three men got in the front, and the vehicle juddered into motion.
Good thing they didn’t search me for weapons. If we pass through security, things could go sideways quick.
Most wars were won on the battlefield, but this one would be fought in secret, and it would be over in seconds. I will prevail. I must. But now that she was alone and moving forward with no way back, fear settled into the open spaces, the shadows and the doubts she’d hidden in her heart. Tirael’s words haunted her.
You’re not better. Not more royal or more worthy. You’re just luckier.
Well, if that was true, let it continue to be so. A little chill prickled across her skin, then—a possibility so improbable that it had never occurred to her, not until this moment. She thought back to all her near misses, the times she should’ve died, and might have, if not for some unlikely twist of fate or a quirk of—
Luck. That’s my gift.
Her whole life, she’d thought she didn’t have one, but it was just so quiet and subtle that she’d missed it. Until now.
It was only a hypothesis, but if she was right, the gift of good fortune would be why even the most improbable plans broke in her favor. Now that I know, I can factor for it. There also remained the potential that she was completely wrong, and that if she tried to call on it to make Ruark Gilbraith die, she would be bitterly, brutally disappointed. At the worst possible moment. On the other hand, using her gift consciously would burn a lot more of her life than tapping it accidentally, as she had been doing.
It doesn’t matter. Even if I only live as long as the Animari, I can still accomplish a lot. If I defeat Ruark Gilbraith.
Her mind made up, she closed her eyes and tried to activate her gift. She’d always avoided discussions of the subject, she had no idea how other people went about using their abilities. For all Thalia knew, it might be different for everyone. Nothing popped in her mind, no sparks flickered from her fingers, so she had no idea if her luck was active when the vehicle stopped.
She couldn’t see where they were, but they had paused once while she was trying to activate her luck, and she’d heard the grind of heavy gates being opened. We must be somewhere inside Braithwaite by now. Like she had been instructed, she stayed quiet despite the movement outside.
Booted feet moved around the perimeter, and she heard voices, the low rumble of laughter, but she couldn’t make out what was being said. Tension brought her shoulders nearly up to her ears, and she tried to make herself smaller, as if she could will herself invisible. Heh, if I could do that, I wouldn’t have needed to get help from a provisioner.
The back doors popped open and soldiers dressed unmistakably in Gilbraith colors stared at her with icy eyes. Then they leveled their weapons on her. “Come out.”
“Sir?”
“Step out of the vehicle. Now.”
Fight or comply?
She had only a split second to decide, then the vegetable dealer stepped into view. “It’s all right. I told them you’re my new helper. They just need to do a routine scan, that’s all. As long as you’re not smuggling anything into the house, you’ll be fine.”
Thalia strangled the hysterical impulse to laugh. Like weapons or poison? She didn’t want to kill the man who had been kind enough to get her this far, but if a fight started here, he would sound the alarm and tell the other guards what she looked like, if she left him alive. I’ve got to buy some time.
“Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous,” she whispered.
Thalia inched forward, making it look like she feared their weapons, when in fact, she could’ve taken them away in three moves. Two more to kill both guards. But she wasn’t ready to reveal herself yet. Not unless this encounter went bad.
“Here she comes,” the vendor said.
When she emerged from the stack of crates, she watched the guards’ tension level ratchet down. Physically, she didn’t appear to pose much of a threat. They couldn’t see her bracers or her hidden twin blades. The minute they started searching, though—
Stop it. Bring on the luck.
She focused hard, reaching, and then she heard it, a soft whispering chime in her left ear. Maybe it didn’t mean anything, but she relaxed a trifle as she dropped from the truck onto the loose gravel of the drive. No paved roads inside his compound? Ruark really was a cheap bastard. She mustered a faint smile for the sentries and the vendor clasped her shoulder.
“No worries, this is business as usual. We’ll be on our way in two minutes.”
“Take off your glasses, miss. We’ll start with a retinal scan.”
Oh, fuck, Thalia thought.
And something to west exploded.
Six hours earlier
Raff eyed Gavriel, but so far, the Noxblade hadn’t produced the spear from Sky’s vision. At the moment, he was pacing, fists clenched, after hearing that Thalia had gone with Ferith on what might be an impossible mission. He’d punched Raff in the face over letting her go alone—fair, so he’d taken the hit—but when Gavriel came at him again, Raff sidestepped and slapped the asshole in the back of the head.
“Enough. We have to decide how to proceed.”
He still didn’t know if he could trust Gavriel, as the treachery scenario still burned bright in the back of his head as one possibility, and he hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to Mags privately yet. She might know if Gavriel had turned; she would have noticed any sketchy behavior or clandestine meetings. Picking up on that shit was her job in Ash Valley.
Most of him wanted to say, ‘fuck it’ and rush to Thalia’s aid, but a small portion couldn’t desert Daruvar when she’d left the place—and her people—under his protection. He also couldn’t see leaving the fortress with Gavriel, given what Sky had foreseen. Maybe that made him a superstitious fool, but he had to plan his course carefully and pick the path that didn’t end in tragedy.
I need the best of both worlds.
“Let’s have your brilliant plan,” Gavriel demanded.
Once, Raff would’ve made a joke about how that wasn’t his wheelhouse, but right now, Thalia needed his best, so he dug deep, and it wasn’t even that hard, when he reached for it. Without answering, he spun and strode toward the strategy room. Gavriel was still yapping at him, but Raff tuned him out as he reprogrammed the drones currently patrolling nearby. They’d all be back at base within half an hour.
The Noxblade grabbed his shoulder just as Magda came in. Her hair was freshly braided, and once Raff would have paid her a compliment or flirted a little, but those days were done. This task was too important to delay.
“Leave him alone, he’s trying to help your princess.” When Gavriel didn’t let go, Mags grabbed his arm and twisted. “Do we have to fight…again?”
Gavriel glared at her and uncoiled his fingers. “Don’t test me.”
“Why, do you like it or something?”
“Get out of my way or get a fucking room,” Raff snapped.
He pushed past them and ran for the stockpile his people had laid in before they left. Food would have been nice for the hungry workers in the kitchen, but instead, he had crates of munitions. If Thalia succeeded at Braithwaite, if Raff’s idea proved helpful at all, the scarcity of supplies would cease to be an issue after today.
All or nothing.
The other two followed him, and the group picked up Commander Olwyn along the way. “Do you know how to arm and load the drones?” he asked.
Mags nodded, but the Eldritch men offered blank looks. Raff sighed. “I’ll teach Olwyn. Mags, you show Gavriel the ropes. We need these in the air as soon as possible.”
“You’re striking at Braithwaite,” she guessed.
“Damn right I am. I’ll drop payloads on the fences. I don’t know exactly where Thalia is, but if she’s already inside, the distraction will draw forces away, and if she’s trying to get in, a breach in their defenses can only help her.”
“You’re planning to bombard a location where—” Gavriel clamped his teeth on the words, looking as if he meant to chew them and spit them out. “What an idiotic idea!”
“It’s the best I can do from here,” Raff said. “She left Daruvar in my care, but I’ll be damned if I leave her without backup. I can program the drones to scan for her, and if she’s nearby, I’ll abort the strike.”
“Do it,” Mags urged. “I agree with your assessment, and it seems unlikely that she can take out Ruark Gilbraith with only one Noxblade at her side.”
Thalia and Ferith, against a small army. He got cold chills just thinking about it, and he let out a snarl, nearly losing control of the fear and rage that made him want to go wolf and start running. No, can’t do that again.
With their help, Raff armed the drones with explosive shells. Good thing that the heavy weapons the Golgoth favored hadn’t reached Eldritch territory yet. One CTAK could’ve brought down the walls at Daruvar and turned the tide for Gilbraith, but the bulk of Tycho’s forces were scattered, the majority concentrated in bear country, which was Callum’s problem, not his.
“All right, new flight pattern laid in. I’ll monitor remotely from the strategy room. Payloads will deploy in five and a half hours.”
Nobody had stirred from the room, even when the chatelaine brought tea. There was nothing extra to be had in the larder, so Raff downed the herbal mess with a grimace and tried not to think about how hungry he was. If he was better at planning, he would’ve hunted down more than a rabbit. Still, the hot liquid did fill up his stomach a little. Magda caught his eye and made a face in sympathy.
“You don’t like it?” Gavriel asked, but he was talking to Mags.
“It tastes like wet weeds.”
Raff agreed, but he wouldn’t say so as Madam Isoline was gathering the dirty dishes. He’d never noticed this about Mags before, but she didn’t much care about people’s feelings. The housekeeper had doubtless done her best with limited supplies.
“Tact can be charming. You should read up on it,” he said to Mags.
She laughed. “Fuck that. Honesty is the best policy. That way nobody can ever claim they didn’t know what I’m about.”
“I’m sorry,” the chatelaine said quietly. “Will there be anything else?”
“No, thank you.” Raff gentled his tone.
Huh. Thalia’s people feel like mine. When did that happen? But there was no denying that he had the same urge to protect the Eldritch, just like they were members of his own pack. In fact, he was about ready to fight Magda over her rudeness; he squashed that urge with effort.
Commander Olwyn cleared his throat, likely noting the awkward atmosphere. “Are the drones on target?”
He stood, heading over to the screen to check, though he’d inspected their progress not more recently. “ETA ten minutes now. Too soon to scan for the princess specifically, but I’m not showing any humanoid life signs to the west.”
“That will be perfect as a distraction,” the commander said.
Mags nodded. “Let’s hope she’s found a way inside.”
With a sibilant curse, Gavriel lunged to his feet and started to pace. He didn’t look any paler than usual because his skin was like steamed fish already, but his blood-red eyes blazed murder, and his hair whipped around like his anger gave it electricity. Raff pretended not to notice that wrath; it wouldn’t help if they fought but waiting sucked.
Come back to me, he thought. I have a lot left to say.
“I tried calling her,” Gavriel said then. “But her phone is off.”
Raff smirked. “If that surprises you, then you’re dumber than you look.”
“She’s smart to run silent. There’s always a way to pick up on electronic chatter. Coming in quick and quiet offers the best chance for success,” Mags noted.
He hated how impersonal she sounded, like Thalia’s life didn’t matter. As his temper flared, the symbols on the screen reached their target, one by one, and flared red, indicating multiple successful strikes. “It’s done. Only time will tell if we made a difference.”
Gavriel grabbed him by the shirt front. “If she falls to Gilbraith, if you let her die, I’ll kill you. I hope you know that.”
Suddenly what Sky had seen made sense, only it wasn’t what he’d feared. Vengeance, not treachery.
Raff only nodded. “My life is in your hands.”