All eyes went to the hastily scrawled message in Serrick’s own hand, the ink smeared from where the paper had been rolled before it had dried. Then all eyes went to Killian.
This is what you do, he reminded himself. Not politics and lies and manipulation, but war. He cleared his throat. “High Lord Rowenes likely doesn’t believe the Royal Army will be able to catch the Derin army before it reaches Alder’s Ford, and in that he’s probably correct. What Rufina will do once she passes the river Tarn is split her army into three. Part to hold the ford, part to sack Mudaire, and part to go south to the coast to take Abenharrow. So what High Lord Rowenes is going to do instead is march the Royal Army hard south and east, cross the Tarn here”—he pointed at the map—“and intercept the Derin army before they can reach Abenharrow, where the Royal Army will make its stand.”
The whole room erupted in outrage, and from behind Malahi, Killian heard Sonia snarl something in Gamdeshian that he was fairly certain translated as Craven yellow-haired worm. In truth, Serrick’s decision was strategically sound. Mudaire itself was lost. The wells were poisoned and there was no reliable source of food. What were a hundred thousand lives compared to the millions living in the southern part of the kingdom who’d be at risk if the Royal Army wasn’t able to intercept the enemy?
But just because something was strategically valid didn’t mean it was right.
“What is our strategy, then?” Malahi asked.
“I’ll take all the soldiers at our disposal and try to cut Rufina’s army off. Buy some time.”
The door opened then. A Gamdeshian soldier in a lieutenant’s uniform entered, the man bowing low. His clothing was both singed and salt stained, a still-bleeding cut marring one of his russet-brown cheeks. “Your Majesty. Your Graces.”
Malahi rose. “You have a count, then? How many ships are sailable?”
“Yes, my lady. Four ships.”
She blanched and Killian felt his own stomach flip. He’d known it was bad, but …
“Four ships?” Malahi repeated. “Out of one hundred?”
“Yes, my lady. Four sailable ships.” The Gamdeshian lieutenant’s face was grim, the muscles beneath his skin flexing periodically as though he was struggling to maintain his composure.
“And your number of soldiers?”
“Five hundred, give or take.”
“Of?”
“Two thousand, my—” The man’s voice cracked, his head bowing.
“Gods.” Malahi pressed a hand to her mouth. “I am so sorry. May the Six take and comfort their souls.”
The lieutenant took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “This is not a war against Mudamora, Your Majesty. It is a war against humanity. Against the Six themselves. If there was any doubt in the minds of my soldiers as to why we are here, last night vanquished it.”
“Good.” Killian straightened. “Then they’ll be ready to march by midmorning. I assume you will be in command of the Gamdeshian force?”
The man’s gaze shifted past Killian to the guardswomen standing behind Malahi. Killian lifted one eyebrow. “Or am I to presume that Sonia will resume her role as captain, then?”
The guardswoman snorted. “You can’t do that.”
“Why not?” Killian asked. “I trust you. They trust you. Seems a splendid idea. What say you, Lieutenant?”
Ignoring Killian, the man saluted Sonia. “I’ll ready our soldiers to march on your order, Captain.”
“This is madness, Killian.” Hacken threw up his hands. “You can’t really mean to strip Mudaire of every soldier it has?”
“I mean to strip the city of every person in it who is willing to fight,” Killian answered, forcing himself to meet his brother’s gaze. “The city isn’t defendable. We have less than a thousand trained soldiers, and it would take three times that number to defend a wall of this size against a force as large as Rufina’s. And that’s if the wall was whole and strong, but we know the blight has undermined the foundation. It won’t be long until sections in the western quarter begin to collapse.”
“But—”
“There are no buts, Hacken. Rufina’s army will be here in three days. You have only four ships to evacuate a hundred thousand people to Abenharrow where they can caravan south to safety. At best you can expect two round trips per day, which means you’ll have evacuated fewer than five thousand people by the time the battle begins.”
No one in the room spoke.
“Our only option is to try to stop them from reaching the city in order to buy you more time.” Smoothing the map, he pressed a finger down on a