Reubinon Palace, Pellarmus.
After the radio transmission.
One week after the attack.

Darragh was in the middle of meeting with the governors of Pellarmus when Britta sent word that she needed to meet with him. When Dellacov returned twenty minutes later without the king, I thought Britta Warwick was going to wage war with her new husband. I think she might have thrown something, might have truly raged, if it hadn't been for my own anxiety.

She stayed calm for me.

Instead of yelling, she'd gotten up and gone after Darragh herself. I'd spent the next ten minutes trying to think through my panic. Nadia and Heidi sat on either side of me with Tavin and Dellacov standing against one wall. I hadn't spoken to any of them. I couldn't muster words. I just kept replaying the message in my head—how frightening my brother had sounded.

How frightened Kace had sounded.

They'd failed.

The mission had failed.

And they were going to die.

There was a rushing in my ears, a dull roaring sound that blocked out almost everything else.

"Who can get there?" Tavin asked. He stood next to Dellacov, his back pressed to the wood paneled walls, his arms crossed over his chest. "That man is right, who can get there in time? If—If things are that bad, if they need—"

Heidi cut him off. "Let's wait and see what Britta and Darragh say. They have the forces. I'm sure..." she glanced at me and then shot Tavin a pointed look, as if she wanted him to agree with her as she said, "I'm sure they have people they can send. They will send someone."

But as I stared at the maps before me, I didn't know if they would. Most of the troops on that map were in the larger cities, far from Varos and the Suri Gap—far from Third Corps and my brothers.

My brothers and Ellora. Ellora, who was pregnant. And Dee. And Carina and her baby. And Teagan and Keeley and Alena. And Fritz. And all the children from the school. And M.O. And all the others who had once been strangers and had somehow become friends.

I stood up, needing to move, needing to do something. I felt like I was going to be sick. I felt like I was going to scream. I'd just walked to the fire place and buried my hand in the ash and logs when the door creaked and someone slipped inside.

Isla caught my eyes. "I came as soon as I heard."

I pulled my hand out of the fire, not even bothering to wipe the soot from my hand as she crossed the room and threw her arms around my shoulders. I nearly wept into her shoulder as I said, "What if they can't get there in time?"

She pulled back from me, not an ounce of uncertainty on her face as she said, "They will." I cursed as I saw the dark strains I'd gotten on her dress, but she shook her head and waved me off. "I don't give a shit about the dress, Benson. You look like you need a drink. Or a cigarette. Both of which I can arrange."

With that, Isla led me back to the table and herded me into my chair. She reached across the table to the abandoned tea service and made me a cup. She added a great deal of sugar, cream, and something else that came from a flask in her pocket, before she slid the cup and saucer across the maps to me.

She offered me a small smile as she said, "It may taste like shit, but it'll take the edge off."

I looked down at the drink as I said, "Shouldn't you be packing for Haniver?"

Isla tapped the edge of the saucer with her fingertip. "Drink up, Benson."

I did as she said, downing the tea before I could really comprehend just how horrific it tasted. Alcohol—the faint warmth that blossomed in my gut confirmed as much. I leaned back in my chair and glanced to the door. Where the hell was Darragh?

My throat burned as I said, "They could—Oh, goddess. What if they're already dead?"

No one had an answer to that. There was nothing anyone could say, no assurances, no promises. Because no one knew.

I looked to Isla, who had taken the seat across from mine. "There was a loud bang—" I said. "Right before it cut off. Right before he stopped talking. It could have been a gun. Someone...Someone might have shot him. Shot Kace."

"Your brother is Kace?" Isla asked.

I nodded. "What if they've shot him?"

"We don't know that." Dellacov said. "We can't panic yet."

Isla fiddled with the crown figurine on the Erydian map, the one meant to signify Kai. Her voce was soft as she said, "Let's wait and see what my brother says."

As if summoned by her words, Darragh strolled into the room. He seemed surprised by the gathered crowd, as if he'd forgotten that he'd brought us home with him. Britta followed close at his heels and shut the door behind them both, trapping us all together, before she walked to the table. When she didn't sit, Darragh pulled out the chair at the head of the table—the one she'd been in earlier—and nodded to it.

Mother hen, she'd called him.

He held her gaze, nothing but concern in his eyes as he said, "Sit. We could be here for a while and you shouldn't stay standing."

For a moment, I thought she might argue with him, but then she conceded and took the chair. Once in it, Britta seemed to collapse in on herself, as if she was drained. Her shoulders slumped and she braced an elbow on the top of the table, her head in her hand. Nadia reached over and slid the plate of biscuits towards her, directly into her lowered line of sight.

Darragh had already started talking to us as Nadia whispered to Britta, "Your hands are shaking. Eat something before you pass out."

The queen only nodded and took a biscuit, tearing off a chunk of it and popping it into her mouth as she turned her attention to her husband. "Britta played the message for me a moment ago. It is, I'll admit, alarming," he was saying.

"It's more than alarming," Heidi said, speaking before I could. "These are our people. And they've risked their lives to save innocent hostages from Caine. We—We have to send in people to get them out. We can't just leave them there."

Darragh braced his hands on the back of Britta's chair. "Yes. Exactly. They are your people. They are not my people. And, as unfortunate as it may be, I'm not sure I have the troops to spare." He held up a hand to silence our protests. "Even with the forces from Haniver, we are going to be hard pressed to fight the Erydian forces. Which is beside the point. The real issue is that we can't get people through the Suri Gap. And there isn't time to move a force into Varos and search for an alternative route through those mountains."

I spoke through clenched teeth. "We don't have to search. I know of tunnels. I can find them. I can—Kai and me, we used them a few months ago, I'm sure—I'm sure I can—" I leaned over the table and slid the map of Vayelle towards me, knocking over a few flag markers and figurines in the process. I jabbed a finger against a small outcrop, a place off to one side of the Suri Gap where there seemed to a label for a waterfall. "Here," I said. "There's a waterfall and a group of red oak trees. If—If you go into Varos, to the smaller market there, there's a man—Mr. Hoffman. He—He's got a flour mill. He'll know ways through."

Darragh pursed his lips. "Miss Benson, what you're asking me to do will take time. And clearly time is not something the people in Vayelle have. And having a way through doesn't change the fact that we can't afford to risk the manpower. We are going to strike Erydia in the next few weeks and I will not risk our cover being blown. If I send troops to Vayelle through the Demarti Mountains, Erydia will know I have forces—a large amount of forces—in their lands. I cannot—will not—risk it. Winning this war is too important."

I shook my head. "But—"

He cut me off. "I'm afraid it isn't an option."

There were burn marks on the tabletop where my hands had been. The maps nearest me crinkled at the edges, the corners rolling up as fire caught.

Nadia hissed through her teeth, a quiet, warning sound. The fire sputtered from my fingers and died.

I felt like I was drowning. "Darragh, please."

"The answer is no."

The room fell deathly silent.

Isla's voice was quiet, but not weak, as she said, "I'll speak to Justinian. He can send people from Haniver."

Darragh did not look at his sister, he did not look away from me as he said, "I will not risk it."

"Haniver is not your country," Isla said. "I know if I ask Justinian he'll help—"

Darragh's head snapped towards his sister, his words sharp with a threat as he said, "Justinian is not your king yet. I am. And I am telling you that you will not ask him. You will not meddle with this, Isla. The risk is too great. We can't take the chance of being discovered prematurely."

I looked to Britta, who had her face in her hands once more. I kept my voice steady as I said, "Britta, you said that if it was Cohen or Uri you would—"

"I would do everything I could to save them." She lifted her head and met my eyes. "Yes. I would. But—But I would also have to consider the cost of it."

"And what is the price for Cohen's life? For Uri's? For my brothers'?"

She leaned back in her chair. "Monroe, their lives are all out of our hands. If Uri's life were in my control she'd still be here today, alive and well. We have no control over who lives and who dies."

My friend flinched at my words as I said, "Tell that to Nadia—who has been killing herself for a week straight trying to keep Cohen alive."

"And his life is still out of my control. I—" Britta shook her head and stood up, leaning heavily on the table as she said, "Emotions are high. Darragh and I will discuss this and give you our answer tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Tavin cried. "Tomorrow could be too late."

Britta took one step towards the door and then swayed. Darragh's face turned from frustrated to alarmed as he caught hold of her elbow and steadied her. Nadia was on her feet now too, her brow knit with concern. She said something too quiet for me to hear and Darragh nodded, his green eyes darting from Britta, who was now clinging to his shirt, and the door.

Dellacov stepped forward, prepared to help if needed. "What's wrong?"

It was Nadia who answered him. "We need to get her to the medical ward."

Dellacov crossed the room and took up a place on Britta's other side. She muttered something about being fine, but Darragh shook his head. She tried to take another step and faltered, her knees buckling from beneath her. Britta whimpered in pain as Darragh scooped her into his arms.

He said nothing to us as he left the room, Dellacov and Nadia going with him.

Heidi cursed and leaned back in her chair. "To hell with all of them," she said. "Cowards."

I didn't say anything, just looked at the chair Britta had been sitting it. Blood. There was a good deal of blood there. Isla followed my gaze, her expression changing as she took in the stain there. Maybe it was period blood, but something in my gut, something in the alarm on Nadia's face, told me differently.

I should have cared. I should have felt something for Britta—for what she must have been losing—but I was numb. There was nothing but emptiness in my mind, emptiness and the memory of Ambrose yelling to me on the platform of Demarti station—I'll find a way to save you, he'd promised me all those months ago. It was a promise he'd kept.

And now, now he needed saving.

Now Kace needed saving.

And there was nothing I could do.

***

Shorter chapter today. I might upload a bonus tomorrow if I get a chance. 😘 Happy Wednesday.

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