“Can’t you see that I didn’t have a choice?” She clenched handfuls of her own hair, her face twisting. “Everything my father touches turns to rot. There is something wrong with him. I couldn’t risk him arriving and losing this battle like he’s lost every single one of them. So I did what the rest of you were too gods-damned afraid to do.”
“And yet for all your plotting, here he is.” Killian gestured west. “And it’s too late for us to do anything about.”
“It’s not too late. Bercola—”
“No.” He started to the front of the tent. “I’m going, Malahi. And you’d best pray to all the gods that I can undo the damage that you’ve done.”
“Go, then,” Malahi called after him, her voice bitter. “But know this, Killian. If you don’t come back to me victorious and I lose the crown, everything that happens will be because of you. Because of the decision you made in this moment. And any blood that is shed will be on your hands.”
“Have a look at your own hands, Your Majesty,” Killian answered. “Because I assure you, they are far from clean.”
* * *
The camp was chaos as soldiers ran to their posts, shouts and screams filling the air as the Derin army assaulted the wall, Falorn archers picking them off by the hundreds. To try to go through the ford would be throwing himself into a deathtrap, which meant he needed to find another way across.
Sonia was outside. “They’re trying to scale the cliffs. They’ve got lines across both north and south. The High Lady has sent archers to pick them off, but we’re spread too thin. Won’t be long until they have enough men across to flank us.”
“That’s Dareena’s problem,” Killian said, motioning for the woman to follow him. “I need to get across.”
“Are you insane?”
“Quite possibly.” Leading her at a sprint, he tracked the lip of the ravine, keeping far enough back to avoid being shot by enemy archers. Derin soldiers climbed over the edge, some engaging with Mudamorians even as others secured lines their archers had shot across. The ravine was crisscrossed with ropes heavy with men, but Killian ignored them until he found a spot that suited his fancy.
Cutting down the men guarding the secured line, he sheathed his sword in favor of a sturdy branch, which he placed over the taut rope. Gripping it firmly on both sides, he shouted, “Cover me!,” then jumped.
The eastern bank was higher, and he slid down the rope with speed, using his feet to knock loose climbers coming across. He lost momentum in the middle, grabbing hold of the rope with one hand even as he grappled with another man, elbowing him in the face until he fell screaming into the river.
Arrows whizzed past, one scoring a fiery line across his shoulder, another knocking against the heel of his boot as he slid toward the western bank.
“Shoot him! Shoot him!” the Derin soldiers screamed, and sweat dripped down Killian’s brow as another arrow glanced off the hilt of his sword. “Shit!”
“Killian, hold on tight,” he heard Sonia scream; then he was falling. His shoulders snapped and he swung toward the ravine wall, twisting to get his legs in place. The impact nearly jarred him loose. Dangling from one arm and breathing hard, he reached up to catch hold of the rope and then began to climb.
“Cover him!”
Arrows flew from Falorn bows, sinking into the enemy above. Reaching the top, Killian rolled over the edge and to his feet, sword in hand. He cut into the ranks of Derin soldiers, forcing his way past them and into the trees. The Derin army reeked of terror and desperation, black-clad corrupted driving them toward the ravine, killing those who attempted to flee.
Vaulting onto a loose horse, he kicked the animal into a gallop until he was clear of the enemy lines. In the distance, the Royal Army was spread in a long line, rushing forward like a massive hammer intent on crushing the enemy against an anvil. Except it would be the anvil that shattered.
He lay low across the neck of the horse, riding hard, searching for the striking scorpion of House Rowenes even as he combed the trees for any sign of Bercola, but there was no sign of either of them. And no sign of Lydia, either. Please be all right, he prayed. Please be alive.
But it couldn’t be Lydia he focused on. His first priority needed