Page 81 of Claws of Death

Clio and Tori nod, but the wary glance of the general tells me he fears it won’t be that easy. The Guardians shall turn his fears into past concerns which never came to pass.

“Let’s hope we’ll manage without bloodshed,” Royad agrees.

Across the table, Kaira is chewing on her lip, fingers digging into the edge of the table. I haven’t seen her nervous like this. Not even when we were escaping the palace in Meer.

“You all right?”I prompt her, not switching to our mental channel because, if she has concerns, we all should hear them.

Kaira’s eyes meet mine. “I don’t know. After what happened at the Flame estate, I wouldn’t put it past Erina that this is another trap.”

She has a point.

“Erina needs the weapon with his army, and his army is clearly gathering. Unless he has legions collecting elsewhere that we haven’t found.” Herinor’s tone is not gentle but not harsh either as he speaks to the part-Flame.

“He might have already sent shipments to the army. This might not be the only delivery,” Kaira objects. “It’s possible he has everything he needs in place and is merely waiting for us to walk into an ambush.”

My chest tightens at the mere thought of another situation like at the estate.

“Then we’ll be prepared for it,” Myron says, his tone that of the king who won’t show mercy if anyone dares harm us the way Erina and the Flames did at the estate.

The black veins have retreated from his eyes, and his fingers are no longer wrapped in shadows, but the resolve in his face tells me he’s ready to do whatever it takes.

“Tata will be joining us,” Clio announces, earning a sideways look from Silas that could murder. “She shared the details of the shipment with my brother and Tori while you were scouting the plains. “We know it’s supposedly still liquid, and it’s too heavy for humans to carry. The caravan the rebels reported fits the description Tata provided. Three carriages with four horses each. Guards ride with them, and foot soldiers march along. From what we know, they don’t stop for the nights but exchange their horses every other day.”

Memories of riding north in a carriage with Andraya and Pouly float into my mind. We didn’t stop for rest either. “Whatever Erina has in mind, delivery or trap, he is under time pressure if he doesn’t dare to stop.”

Tori nods at my assessment, folding his arms across his chest as he slides his gaze back to the map as if he can see everything Clio just mentioned, as if the whole terrain is coming to life in his mind. I wouldn’t be surprised if it did; that malecanmelt stone after all.

“The rebels’ hideout is closer to the point where we’ll attack than the border. We’ll site-hop there then rest for a few hours to restore our energy before we find our vantage points,” he explains, all business, and I can see why Recienne relies on him for strategy—the way his mind flits from point to point, connecting them and creating a full picture out of the bits and pieces we have been providing. “Use the time we have left to train and rest. We’ll set out tomorrow at sunset.”

Wordless, Recienne, Clio, and Tori disappear from the head of the table, leaving us to ourselves. The map is gone, replaced by a basket of bread, a large pan of scrambled eggs, and a bowl of fried bacon sits between a platter with sliced vegetables and a glass jar filled with some thick, red paste I have never seen in my life. Small plates are laid out in our usual spots, alongside silver cutlery. A steaming pot of tea and a carafe of water share the space at the center of the table.

I’m no longer hungry, but I walk over to my usual chair and sit down, reaching for the pan and serving myself.

Kaira eyes me like she’s ready to throw up.

“If I want to be prepared for anything, I’ll need my strength.” Without another explanation, I start shoveling the eggs into my mouth, barely tasting the aroma of the chopped chives that magically pop up on top of my serving.

Myron is the first to follow my lead. Whether it’s because he’s hungry or he wants to support my endeavor, I don’t know, but I appreciate his presence as he sits himself in the chair next to me and summons a slice of bacon to his plate with his magic.

Herinor and Silas sit across from us, in Clio’s and Tori’s places, pulling over their plates and heaping them with food. Even Royad joins, picking up a slice of toast and smearing it with the red paste that smells surprisingly like spring and winter all at once. I don’t ask what it is. I’ll be able to figure it out when we return if we succeed. And it won’t matter if we walk into a trap.

We finish our meal in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Not even Kaira disturbs my mind with a comment as scenarios of doom play before my inner eye.

“What do we do now?” the part-Flame eventually asks when none of us lifts our forks anymore and the teapot is empty.

At first, I believe no one is going to answer, and I take a deep breath to inform her I have no idea, but Clio storms in, shortsword at her hips swaying with her purposeful gait as she waves her hand at my sister and me, a knowing expression on her face.

She walks up to the head of the table, bracing her hands on the high backrest of Recienne’s empty chair, and pins Kaira and me with a look.

“Now, my friends, we get you ready for battle.”

We follow Clio down the hallway in a single file. She’s provided us all with leathers and weapons before, but this time, she seems to have something different in mind. A stairwell wide enough for two leads down to a windowless corridor with a single, wide steel door at the end.

“We don’t know what we’ll be facing out there, so everyone better pick their own weapons.” Clio pushes the door open, sparks of magic running along the outline of the threshold, and the magic locking it dissolves at her command and exposes a room lined with racks and shelves full of armor and weapons.

Silver spears sit next to black steel; curved and saw-edged blades cross along the walls. Wooden stands hold up pieces of leather embossed with emblems and shield crests I have never seen before. There are even assortments of helmetswith horns attached and helmets with holes on the sides that make me wonder if those are meant for creatures with horns growing out of their skulls.

“Welcome to the armory.” Clio’s voice trembles with excitement like a little girl’s. “My dear brother approves for you to take whatever you want.”

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