Page 70 of Power of Draken

“We have to fix it,” he agrees.

A sudden shout rips through the night air, jolting us both to our feet. It’s coming from the mercenary camp.

Kyrian and I exchange a tense glance before darting through the trees towardthe clearing as more voices join in, the sentries calling out warnings.

“Stars above—what now?” Kyrian mutters, peering at the organized chaos that’s taking over the sleeping camp. The mercs are leaping into action, grabbing weapons and shouting commands, scrambling to form a perimeter.

I lift my face toward the wind trying to catch the scent. Leather, sweat, and... formality. Armor too polished, too crisp for roadside thugs.

“Soldiers,” I say. “Eryndor’s soldiers. Maybe the commandant has finally worked out that she’s been played and sent a detachment to get her people back.”

Everything happens fast after that. The first arrow sails into the camp with a high-pitched whistle, followed by a chorus of shouting. Eryndor soldiers pour in from all sides, their armor glinting in the firelight. The clang of steel on steel echoes through the forest as swords clash and arrows whistle through the air.

But it's the figure at the head of the Eryndor force that draws my gaze like a lodestone. Tall and proud, her rich auburn hair whipping in the wind, the commandant herself leads the charge. Her blade flashes as she engages the nearest mercenary, her movements precise and deadly.

"Shit," Kyrian breathes beside me just as I get my first good look at the cold fury on Commandant Ainsley’s face. She didn’t just send a detachment to get the cadets back, she took command of it herself. And she doesn’t lose. "This isn't good."

Chapter 34

Rowan

“Up and armed!”

“Perimeter breach! Everyone on guard!”

I wake with a start, my head pounding right along with the world around me. Shouts come from every direction. Warnings. Orders. Shocked cries. Cadets scramble, the chains of their manacles clanging as they dart about to figure out what’s going on, or at least avoid getting skewered in the melee.

A shadow moves at the edge of my vision, cutting through the disarray and rising panic.

“Ainsley.” Kai looks wild, dangerous, and—gods—totally free. His shackles are broken. He’s got a sword in one hand, his other gripping my shoulder. “On your feet.”

“What’s happening?”

"Eryndor soldiers,” he says curtly, his attention already back on the unfurling battle. “Seems the commandant has decided she does care about what happens to her cadets after all.”

The commandant? I shoot to my feet and peer through the fray, unable to help myself despite knowing that I should be making myself a smaller target rather than a larger one. It takes only moments to find my mother in the chaos and clashing of swords, her auburn hairwhipping in the wind as she moves with a deadly grace I’ve heard about but never seen in truth.

No wonder I’m a disappointment to her.

My mother’s sword flashes in the firelight as she parries blow after blow, forging her way toward the mercenary leader, a hulking brute of a man named Hak who is moving toward her with the same brutal efficiency.

“What is the meaning of this, Phillys?” Hak demands, shouting to be heard over the battle cries as they near each other. Apparently the two are on a first name basis.

“You’ve kidnapped Spire cadets.” She guts a man on her right without pausing the conversation. “I’d like them back, please.”

“Kidnapped?” Hak opens his arms, shaking his head in a show of bewilderment. “Not at all. We are simply participating in your field exercise. Are you not honor bound to follow your own rules?”

She laughs without mirth. “A mercenary talking about honor?” her voice hardens to the one I know all too well. “Enough. You are no part of this, Hak. You know it. You will return my people.”

My people. Am I her people too? Or was she thinking about the stronger cadets when she said that.

Kai’s arm wraps around my waist and he yanks me down. Hard. “Are you trying to get your head taken off?” he hisses.

Behind us, there is a familiar creak of the prison wagon being opened and gruffly passed orders between the mercs to corral us into it.

Kai’s gaze swings toward the wagon, then the darkened treeline. “Listen to me carefully,” he instructs. “We are not going back to the wagon. Stay with me and be ready to move. Did you succeed in weakening your shackles the way you did mine?”

And here I thought I’d been discreet about it.

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