Commander Jarett was standing over her, wiping Lumsden’s blood from a rapier. The Haellium rapier she’d forged for the Steward.

‘Before you have any further notions of grandeur,’ Jarett said scornfully, ‘I would pause to consider who else you may care for in your kingdom, girl smith.’ Another, smaller struggling figure was brought to Lumsden’s feet.

Cahra couldn’t look away from the blood, Lumsden’s blood, soaking the black sands.

But she had to.

Because Ellian, the boy she’d told to go find Lumsden for a job, was next. And behind him, every child soldier, every young apprentice, every trader from her Quadrant in Kolyath.

‘And should they not be adequately motivating, perhaps let us add a few new friends.’ At Jarett’s words, the other Commander, Sullian, signalled and his longbow archers drew, trained on Thierre and his family, just as she’d feared.

Cahra snarled, the ground beneath her kneeling body quaking. She’d been able to dodge Kolyath and Ozumbre’s bowmen, but—

Would she be quick enough to outrun a dozen arrows aimed at Luminaux’s royals? She remembered Thelaema’s words.Sacrifices must be made.

Cahra didn’t know and it was maddening. But she couldn’t risk them to find out. Not Luminaux’s royals, Ellian, Kolyath’s people or anybody else.

A guttural howl rumbled inside her, threatening to break loose as she dug her fingers into the sand, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood, as she watched Jarett’s guards circle the group of smallest soldiers. Kolyath’s child soldiers.

Ellian.Sacrifices must be made.

‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘No.’ They wouldn’t – theycouldn’t—

Then a voice, an elder man she did not know, echoed in her mind:

My girl, the Steward Atriposte has no qualms about killing every person here, every man, woman and child in his kingdom of Kolyath, to ensure that you understand: the punishment for defying the Steward is death. Not just yours, but your people’s.

Cahra heard rasping laughter in her head.To think that you aspired to save that child, only for the boy to grace this very battlefield.

Her head snapped up. Cahra knew enough of Thelaema’s gifts to guess the speaker: Grauwynn, the other High Oracle. He was here, somewhere, in all of this.

And he knew about her helping Ellian. An icy sweat engulfed her body.

What else did he know about her?

You will yield, blacksmith. Or this time, it shall not simply be a purging of the council, it will be Kolyath’s reckoning. And the fault will be yours.

He was bluffing, they both were. Atriposte would never surrender his army, Kolyath was obsessed with winning the weapon because of him! This wholewarwas so that Atriposte could control the weapon—

Cahra’s breaths were starting to feel dangerously out of control.

Atriposte wanted Hael. Just Hael.

Why do you think your Steward allied with Ozumbre? Decimus and Diabolus leapt at the chance to slay their share of Kolyath soldiers.

No. Cahra shook her head. Atriposte wouldn’t…

As if sensing her question, King Decimus of Ozumbre turned his teal eyes on Cahra, the man’s irises like gleaming labradorite. But just like the cracked gemstone, when she looked at Ozumbre’s ruler, all she saw was something broken, brutal. Something malevolent. He wasworsethan Atriposte, she realised. And Hael’s powers sensed it.

The King of Ozumbre would not hesitate to destroy the kingdom of Kolyath – not just Ellian, but everyone from every Quadrant in the land. Decimus and his twin would leave no survivors. A chill slithered down Cahra’s spine at the thought.

The Steward had her and he knew it.

It was over. She had lost.

In the minutes Grauwynn had distracted her, Atriposte arose, dusted himself off and drew another weapon. Cahra glanced blankly at the dagger with the mottled blade.

It was one of Lumsden’s.