Page 91 of Rise of the Phoenix King (Crown and Crest 4)

HENRIK

Camellia’s armywill reach our camp sometime tonight, but we’re prepared. Too prepared.

There’s nothing we can do but wait. I lean over my desk, studying the map for the hundredth time, moving small wooden pieces across it like a child playing with toys. My tent is large but hot. The blasted wind continues to blow, and it rips at the sides, threatening to topple the whole thing.

I have more comforts than necessary, including a large table and velvet-upholstered chairs, a bed that’s larger than the one I had as a commander with a down-stuffed mattress, a personal cook to see to my dietary needs, rugs, lamps, and more—all brought in wagons as we traveled.

I glance around the tent with a scowl. Shaking my head at the clutter, I look back at the map. Our shadow rogues have reported that Camellia’s army has been traveling at night and resting during the day. We could attack now, in the light, but that seems too obvious.

They’re also moving slower than we anticipated. It’s almost as if Camellia is hoping to lure us to her—further away from Cabaranth.

The city is well guarded, I reassure myself, but the nagging worry won’t go away.

We’ve tripled the guard on the walls, and the city gates are closed. Rations have been brought in, and the fortifications are sound. They could hold off an attack for weeks, if not longer.

I run my hand through my hair, deciding to leave the sweltering space for some fresh air. The wind whips at the tent flap as I open it, wailing as it passes through the meadow grass.

The wildflowers are in full bloom, adding splashes of color to the green landscape. We’re situated on a hill, able to see around us on all sides. Aside from the trees in the distance that grow along a creek at the edge of the valley, the land is open.

Ayan joins me, flexing his hand. He’s been unusually somber since the attack on the Woodmores, determined to defeat Camellia. The High Vales have accepted his authority, and he leads them now, acting as my second-in-command.

I’m not sure how I feel about that.

“How’s your magic?” I ask.

He kindles a flame in his palm, raising his brows.

I nod, satisfied.

“It’s strange.” He extinguishes the magic. “It’s like a third limb that was bound most of my life, and now I can use it at will. It feels natural, and yet…it’s foreign.”

“Be careful tonight,” I say. “You have no heir, and your people need you.”

He smirks. “Oh, I’m sure I have an heir somewhere.”

I roll my eyes, not in the mood for his bluster.

He laughs as he walks away, off to join his High Vale comrades. Pranmore joins me once he’s gone, one of only ten Woodmores who volunteered to march to battle—every one of them healers, all but two able to control defensive wards.

“Do you think Camellia is with her army?” I ask him.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” he says.

“How are you feeling?”

“Torn.”

I turn to look at him, frowning when I see his expression. “How so?”

His hair is tied back for the first time, likely because of the wind. He looks different, almost hardened. “I was raised to avoid conflict, to live in harmony with all around me. But right now…”

I lift my brows, waiting for him to continue.

“Fighting for peace feels like a noble pursuit,” he finishes heavily.

I sigh, feeling his conflict. “I’m a soldier, a knight—a warrior—but I didn’t join the army for love of bloodshed and battle. I wanted to serve and protect something I value. For me, it’s Caldenbauer and the royal family.”

“What is the cost of peace?” he says, reminding me of our conversation from not long ago when it felt like my world was ending.

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