“I tried to leave more,” he answers, “but too many soldiers were around. Any trace of Brac or Opal?”
“No, but the demon rajah held a Galer prisoner, so he could have others.” General of the imperial army or not, as the organizer of this mission, I cannot allow my friends to follow me any farther. “I’m going back to camp before everyone turns in for the night. The army is vast and growing. I’ll blend in and search for Brac and Opal on the march to Vanhi. You three return to the wing flyer and meet with the Lestarian Navy.”
“What about General Manas?” Rohan asks.
“Manas is here?” Natesa asks. “And he’s the general?” She and Yatin scoff in reproach. Both are acquainted with Manas’s and my history. “Deven, he’ll kill you if he finds you.”
“He won’t.” Or he’ll be sorry. Regardless of our past friendship, my mercy for Manas is long spent. A gong resounds in the distance. “That’s the call for curfew. I have to go.”
Natesa grabs my arm, holding me in place. “Not without us, you don’t. We took too long to find the army. We’re supposed to meet with the navy day after tomorrow. Even if we run all night, we’ll never make it in time.”
“Then wait here, and I’ll come back for you.”
“No.” Her grip tightens. “When my sister was claimed and taken from the temple, I never saw her again. The next I heard, she’d passed away.” Rohan grimaces, and she tempers her tone. “I didn’t get a chance to go after my sibling like you and Rohan have. Tomorrow morning, all of us will join the army and march to Vanhi.”
Yatin crosses his arms over his chest. “The army will punish a female infiltrator differently than a man.”
“Then I’ll pretend to be a man,” Natesa counters. “I’ll wear a uniform and hide my hair. I won’t get caught.”
Yatin is right to worry. Neither of us would ever mistreat a female prisoner or abuse our rank to coerce a woman, but some soldiers take repulsive liberties. Natesa would be more at risk for certain acts of violence than us men. I can hardly guarantee my safety, let alone hers.
“Udug executed the Galer I mentioned,” I inform her. “For your protection, you should all turn back.”
“You can accept our help or not. Either way, we’re coming with you.” Natesa tromps into the woods.
“Where are you going?” Rohan whispers after her.
“To get the uniform.”
Rohan makes a face. “The dead soldier’s clothes?”
“Are you going to stop her?” I ask Yatin.
He leans against the tree. “There’s no sense in it. Changing Natesa’s mind is impossible.”
Before long, she returns wearing the deceased soldier’s jacket and trousers. Their roominess conceals her womanly shape. She ties her hair up and winds his turban around her head, hiding her long tresses. Although we do not wear turbans when we sleep, Natesa stares at me through the shadows, daring me to forbid her to come along. I have had loyal comrades in the past, men willing to fight for my life, but none of them has ever undressed a dead man and worn his clothes for me.