Page 5 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

“Elisaf is over there.” Zander points to a single figure surveying the slaughter in an exhausted daze, much like us.

My old nighttime guard meets our gaze then and begins moving for us.

A wave of relief overwhelms me. “What about the others?”

“They will find us soon enough.”

“What if they don’t? What if …” I can’t bring myself to finish that sentence. We started the battle with them surrounding us, but where are they now? I can’t handle losing another person. The fissure in my heart from Gesine’s death is still too raw.

“Then they fought bravely, and we will continue the fight in their honor,” Zander says calmly, as if he can sense my rising panic.

“Your Highness!” Gaellar calls out then, limping forward, a gangly squire at her side.

“Glad to see you, Commander.” Zander dips his head. “The rift army fought bravely.”

“They did. But if not for your presence, I fear the outcome would have been vastly different.” She regards me and where I saw only apprehension before—for a Ybarisan princess turned queen, for a key caster—now I see something entirely different. Something like awe.

What must I have looked like, with my silver eyes glowing while I conjured weapons out of thin air? At least I changed out of that winged dress and crown before Hudem, replacing them with far more practical leathers that Abarrane procured.

“Your Highness.” She bows.

“Do you know how many we’ve lost?” Zander asks.

“Not nearly as many as stand. But that is not why I’ve found you. Riders approach from the south.”

Zander turns in the direction, but the view is blocked by a sea of tents and bodies. “Which banner do they fly?”

“Kettling’s.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. “That must be the army Atticus has sent.”

“They’ve crested the hill. Their cavalry is moving quickly.”

“To help or to hinder us?”

“They have not sent a messenger ahead of them for any sort of parley. Perhaps they saw the battle and are coming to aid.” But the expression on Gaellar’s face belies her worry.

“And when they see that we are not fighting Ybaris?” Zander surveys the battlefield.

“They will return their focus to Atticus’s false claim to the throne,” Abarrane retorts with certainty, reaching for her sword’s pommel.

Gaellar pulls her wounded body upright. “The rift army is with you, Your Highness.”

Zander sighs heavily. “I appreciate that.”

Their meaning becomes clear. “Are you all insane?” I exclaim. “We can’t fight them!”

Zander smirks at my outburst, but there’s no amusement in that look. “No, we cannot join another battle on the heels of one,” he agrees. “But we may have little choice if we cannot hold them off long enough for them to see reason.”

“Bellcross is not far behind.” Though it was hard to gauge yesterday, flying high above in Caindra’s clutches. “Did you see the purple banner?”

Gaellar looks to the squire beside her, who shakes his head fervently.

“Still, they might think twice about attacking with another army at their back.”

“Lord Rengard is marching here to fight against the Ybarisan army, not Islor,” Zander says. “I do not know that he will be eager to involve his men. And we cannot fight against our own people. We need all of them.”

“What are your orders then, Your Highness?” Gaellar waits expectantly for an answer Zander doesn’t have.

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