Page 56 of An Archer's Reckoning

Shit, the Captain had been talking.

“Sir, sorry, sir. I guess—”

“You look exhausted.” He blew out a heavy breath. “I said that we need to recall our men from Fleet Town. There’s a good hundred Rangers working port duty. At any other time, they would be shorthanded, but with a blockade in place, they’re useless up there. We’ll need their bows when the Kingdom attacks in force, that’s for damn sure.”

“Your runners—”

“I need my runners here. You’re going to Fleet Town.” He scribbled a note on a blank parchment and held it across his desk. “Take this to the stables now. They’ll have a mount and supplies ready by the time you are ready. Two hours, Ranger, no more. Our situation is dire, and we need those men.”

I hadn’t meant to lower my head, but it fell with each word the Captain spoke.

“Yes, sir.”

He raised another parchment and began to read. A moment later, he seemed to remember my presence and spoke without looking away from his page, “Send the others back in, and tell the guards I don’t want to be disturbed this time.”

Chapter 20

Irina

Isat on a large cushioned chair in the middle of my command tent, staring at a detailed sketch of the mountains bordering Melucia and a map of Grove’s Pass dominating the massive table before me. The hard-packed ground beneath the tent was now covered in a tapestry of colorful rugs. A silver brazier held glowing coals to guard me from winter’s chill.

A day earlier, generals crowded shoulder to shoulder around the table, haggling over movements and plans. The clamor of messengers coming and going was constant.

Today, I sat alone in silence. Just the way I liked it.

A head poked through the flap, disturbing my thoughts.

Danai’s shoulder-length black hair hung limp, a greasy, droopy mess that hadn’t been cared for in days. Dark circles outlined his usually bright eyes as heavy bags dragged the skin beneath them toward the ground. Oddly, his black military-style coat, which flared at the waist into a robe, was spotless. Its golden buttons sparkled in the light.

I rolled my eyes at the man’s obsession with his ridiculous wardrobe. No one had worn a coat or robe of that style in a century, probably longer.

“What is it, Danai? Do not stand there with your head in the door. You will let all the heat out.”

Danai stepped into the tent, stopping a few feet away, bowing deeply. When he looked up, his eyes widened. He scrutinized my form with his critical Mage’s eye.

Since our arrival in Huntcliff, I’d shed my golden dress in favor of leather riding breeches with practical blouses and coats. Most were stylized with gold, maroon, or blue embroidery. Danai had approved of the change, claiming it made me look more in command.

Today, however, I wore a blacker-than-midnight floor-length robe that clung seductively to every curve. My waist was cinched with a silken rope whose golden tasseled ends dangled down my hip. The robe’s collar and cuffs were ringed with bands of gold. At the robe’s center, just below my breasts, a stylized version of the Phoenix glittered.

The seven bloody diamonds of my crown pulsed like beating hearts.

Tongues would definitely wag as I wandered camp.

“Your Majesty is . . . quite something today,” Danai ventured with one brow quirked.

I grinned down at my dress. “Do you like it?”

His eyes roamed my body, and my Gift sensed a deepening lust in his heart.

“So very much,” he said. “But—”

“But?” My brow furrowed.

“It’s . . . it’s more than your dress, Your Majesty.” His voice held a note of awe. “The features of your face have sharpened, and your hair . . .” It now flowed down my back in a long, intricate braid, the tight chignon I’d worn for more than twodecades abandoned. “I would swear it holds a tint of crimson that . . .shiftswith the light.”

He gulped.

I smiled and could practically feel his pulse quicken. I saw it in his eyes. He wanted me almost as much as I craved vengeance.

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