Page 8 of A Kingdom of Destruction

In addition to her weapons, her supply pack held extra ammunition for the magical rifles along with medical supplies and fresh water. She’d strapped her wand to the holster on her hip for easy access.

Darkness hid their exodus from the city. A thin sliver of silver moonlight gave them just enough light to pick their way across the field, sticking off the road. Strands of desiccated and dying tree trunks gave them cover, but each step brought with it a sense of foreboding.

As hard as they tried to anticipate their enemy’s movement, no strategy was ever perfect.

There was always a threat of discovery or, if the fae were truly as farsighted as they claimed to be, an ambush of their own.

Aven pushed the worry aside, breath exploding out of her lungs. Her overworked leg muscles forged ahead tirelessly. Another thirty minutes and they’d reach the clearing. She held on to hope of success because it helped her focus, and because she had no choice. This washerplan and she wanted to lead it.

“Do we need to stop and take a break?” Major Stone observed from several feet to her left. His distinctive drawl marked him even though she couldn’t see his face. “You’re pushing yourself too hard, Princess.”

She was tempted to agree with him and opened her mouth to say yes, she’d love to stop for a moment to catch her breath.

But no.

It was imperative they make their way to the camp. If they didn’t make camp, then it would all be a waste, and they risked being overpowered by the enemy.

Aven shook her head, her braid trapped by the pack and pulling at her temples. “We keep going, Major Stone,” she murmured. “It won’t be long now.”

Her battalion was only one of a handful, and she trusted the others to get in place. Mercifully, Major Stone made no more comments on her well-being, trusting Aven to know the limits of her own body.

He didn’t understand. The pressures of war, and the responsibilities to not only the men on the field but to their families, yes; those were things they had in common. Things he knew intimately.

But the pressures of marriage? Of duties to the crown and to an entire kingdom? They marked her for a different destiny than any of the men or officers.

She forced her legs to move when they shook and wanted to turn to jelly. The muscles in her back and shoulders were stiff, yet pausing would cost them time they did not have.

Damn it.

How many more of these battles could she realistically endure? Aven tensed her jaw and forged ahead. As many as possible to prove to her father she could do more than sit on a chair and be a good wife.

By the time they made it to the clearing, the ring of trees opening up to the sky and giving them an impressive view of the constellations overhead, she wanted to drop. Only a few hours of sleep and double that hiking across the ravaged land… how would she be able to don her sword and fight? Or work her wand?

Aven dropped the pack with a dull thud and turned to see the rest of her men staking out the space. They moved as a unit, mechanically. Within minutes, several fabric barriers were erected, hastily risen and just as easy to dismantle once the battle finished.

Ifit finished.

They anticipated Mourningvale to move with the rising sun, to storm the castle and make an attempt to break the iron gates wide open. With every fight the fae had moved closer and closer, centering their attacks in a clear pattern.

There was always a margin of error with these things. The fae might decide to attack sooner, later… camping made sense, hidden behind fabric that blended with their surroundings.

Several of the soldiers erected a separate blind for Aven, though she preferred to do it herself. There were no subjects here to bow to her every whim. On this turf, they were equal—well, in theory.

She dropped to her knees, bone cracking with the movement, and forced her arms to undo the leather straps keeping the contents of the pack in place.

They stayed ahead of the thunderstorm. Or rather, the ominous clouds promising a bruising rain remained beyond the distant ridgeline of the rocky hills surrounding Grimrose on three sides.

The mountain range made protecting the kingdom easier, creating a funneling effect right to their front gates. At least, it had in the past.

The fae were growing bolder.

She reached into the pack and grabbed a bottle before popping off the lid and taking a giant swig. Cool water calmed the burning in her throat, part exertion, part worry.

Their new wave of attacks, their increased physical strength and their inherent magic made continuing this war almost impossible for normal humans. Not against a magical foe, even with their wands and guns.

Humans like Aven, without a choice, who knew they needed to make the most of their skills while they still had the opportunity.

At once, a shout rang out across the camp.

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