Dawn's first light filtered through the stained glass windows, illuminating the palace's great hall in a myriad of colors. Alyssa sat at the head of the table, absorbing the surrealism of the morning after invading Olisgard. The morning after killing her husband, the king of Norr. His blood clung to her black robes, only hours old and still fresh in her mind. She'd only killed one person in this battle, but carried the weariness of hundreds of deaths.
Amara and Jarl sat on either side of her, their bone headdresses resting on the table amongst scraps of bread and glasses of wine. An oddly comforting image and intimidating all the same. Just a few months prior, this very room had been flooded with pretentions, back-stabbing Norrians, celebrating Norr's victory at the Spire. What would those very same nobles think of that victory now? They'd have a thing or two to say, she imagined. No blade was quite so sharp as the Norrian tongue.
"The remaining soldiers have been rounded up," Amara said. "Eleven, all young. They're quartered in the herb garden off the kitchens."
What to do with them? Could men pledged to Dominick Kenos be trusted? Or were they all better off just killing them? She kneaded her temples, trying to quiet her mind. "Okay. Has the final count been finished?"
"One hundred and seventy-three dead. Twenty-six civilians who took up swords against us, and the rest were uniformed soldiers."
A smaller number than she'd prepared for. Much smaller. The sneak attack prevented unnecessary bloodshed, catching everyone off guard and unprepared. "How many Hudar were killed?"
"Seven," Jarl said.
"Pardon?"
"We lost seven men and two horses."
"How in blazing hells is that possible?"
He grinned. "Were you expecting us to fail?"
"No, I just anticipated more of a struggle, I suppose."
The large hall door groaned open, releasing a rabble of voices as a young warrior entered. He approached the three of them, head held high with the natural boldness of the Hudar, handed something to Amara, and left without a word. Regardless of location, she radiated the cool confidence of a true leader, and Alyssa was beyond grateful she'd come along on this radical journey. Amara brought a sense of normalcy she'd grown so accustomed to in Hudar.
Amara unrolled a carrier raven's scroll, as always, expression unreadable whilst she scanned.
"News?" Alyssa asked.
She set the message on the table. "For you, I believe."
Heart in her throat, Alyssa read tiny, familiar script, written in Norrian.
Our bird is free. Where shall we fly?
Raven was free. Melissah, that angel! Tears clouded her vision. She cleared her throat and looked away, fighting for composure. A fine pair of fugitives they'd make. Melissah would keep them hidden, and Raven would keep them safe. Gods, Raven was only six days away. Five, if she pushed her fastest horse. The hot bloods from the south were unbelievably swift mounts. It took every fiber of strength to remain seated at that table instead of blindly rushing south like a fool.
A fool madly in love.
Amara touched her shoulder. "This is good news."
"Yes, but she's not free of danger yet. Khalimat will send men after her, the very same who captured her on the mountain. Raven's only options are to head west, into Hudar, or north, to Olisgard."
"Tell her to come here," Amara said. "We have men to push south to cover her approach if need be. We will see her safe again."
The steadfastness of the Hudar still caught her off guard. These people had come all this way on her word. They'd risked their lives to help retrieve one woman, because she'd asked them. She, a nobody in the greater scheme of the universe. A nobody who looked the other way while the Hudar were driven out of their lands. Every day, humbled by gestures such as this, Alyssa felt as if she'd finally found a cause worth fighting for.
"You're sure? Raven being on the loose will force Khalimat's hand. She will stop at nothing to get Raven back, and I mean nothing. She has five thousand well-trained soldiers at her disposal, and I don't imagine she minds losing the brunt of them in the process."
Amara shook her head. "One so blinded will make grave mistakes. Pride is a hard lesson to swallow, especially for a lioness."
"Maybe so, but statistically, she can still cause a substantial impact. Especially since we're in the middle of two armies." She pushed aside glasses to expose the intricate map of Norr carved into the tabletop, a beautiful and useful work of art. She tapped the northernmost city. "The battalion in Northgate would've mobilized by now. Three-hundred soldiers. Population around two-thousand, so some may join the fight. I don't imagine they'd try to attack Olisgard now, but they may try skirting the city in hopes of rejoining the southern army."
"They won't make it far," Jarl said. "Before the ambush I sent fifty men ahead to scout. They've shot down every raven coming to and leaving Northgate. As of dawn, the soldiers have mustered but remain within the city."
"Impressive military strategy. Some unorganized barbarian you are."
"It's good to be underestimated." He snatched the closest hunk of bread and kicked back in his chair. "Northgate won't be a problem. These walls are strong, and they aren't prepared to siege Olisgard. Neither will the army in Kebos, I imagine."
"It's hard to predict what Khalimat will do." She fiddled with Melissah's message, re-reading the tiny words, hoping to extract further information from so few letters. Where shall we fly? They'd go wherever she told them, without question. The trouble was, she couldn't decide where that should be.
Amara nudged her with an elbow. "What's troubling you?"
"If I tell Raven to come here, she will, and at speed. Five or six days, depending on how far outside Kebos they are. But she's already a target, and I'd be calling her to the most dangerous place in Norr, filled with angry, vindictive people more than willing to sell her back to Khalimat."
"And if you urge her west, you'd be sending her into the most dangerous place in Hudar," Amara said. "The Spire lands are filled with soldiers. The mountain storms grow fiercer by the day. It would take her weeks to make it to the settlement—if she even knows how to find it. She could very well die on that journey, and you might never see her again."
Reasonable counsel, but it didn't make the decision any easier. Her heart ached for Raven. She'd give anything to touch her again. But she could never live with herself if something happened to Raven because she hadn't been careful. Because she'd let her guard down again. Because she wasn't strong or brave or smart enough to keep them safe. Again.
Jarl snorted. "Gods above, Jinx. After all this, you're getting cold feet? You want to suffer sira kavi alone the rest of your miserable life?"
"Oh, you mean like you?"
He blinked, thick brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
She rested her chin on her fist, head tilted towards the silent and undeniably striking Amara. "We all know you didn't come on this suicide mission for me or Raven."
"What? No, I'm not—that isn't—we're not talking about me. I came with my men. It's an honorable battle for any za'hava."
A faint smirk curved Amara's lips, so smooth and sly she'd almost missed the gesture. Those two would make a great couple, should the louder, brasher of the two work up the courage and accept the futility of his stubbornness.
"Honor. Right. And I'm the one with cold feet."
He huffed like an angry owl. "Just, call your lover bird here so we can get on with this campaign."
Alyssa tipped an imaginary hat. "Of course, your grace. Consider it done."
O.O.O.O.O
Raven jerked awake. Sunlight poured through curtains above her, flooding a small stone room in blazing yellow. Was it afternoon? Or a hallucination? After so long in darkness, the shades and contrast of daylight seemed bizarre. She caught one fluttering curtain and rubbed the material between her fingertips, mesmerized by the texture until sunlight reflected off that damned silver band, thin and snug against her wrist. A bothersome disadvantage, but it alone would not keep her from Alyssa. Short of death, nothing would stand in her way. She untangled herself from linen sheets, crawled out of her bedroll, and pulled on a clean tunic.
Melissah dozed in the corner of the room, curled in a heap of blankets. After the break-neck race from the temple, navigating desert roads by moonlight, they'd arrived at Santiago's safe house and promptly collapsed. Melissah had insisted Raven take the bed, and she didn't have the energy to argue. It had been the most restful sleep she'd had in months.
"Raven?" Melissah stirred, for a moment appearing like the harmless young woman most people saw, not the calculating thief who'd outsmarted a temple full of guards. "What time is it?"
"Time is a construct. Go back to sleep."
"Ugh." She flopped to her other side and pulled the covers over her head. "For a moment I thought we weren't still in this horrid desert."
Raven shuffled into the front room and eased the curtains aside, taking in the bustle of the outside world. Santiago's modest abode stood on the banks of the river, amongst an agricultural and fishing community. A thin swath of fertile soil on either bank produced an array of crops that were traded and sold on the streets of Kebos, a short ride to the east.
It had only been several hours since her escape from that fucking temple, but Khalimat knew by now. What a shame she couldn't witness the delivery of that difficult news. Would dear Rhet somehow manage to keep his head? If so, he would be quite motivated to retrieve Khalimat's coveted prisoner. Precautions were necessary.
Santiago possessed a plethora of clothing to suit her needs. His too-large robes disguised her lithe frame, now exceptionally thinner. She covered her head and face with a tan scarf and slipped out the back courtyard, following the hard-packed dirt path to the shelter of the pole barn. A nicker preceded Avarice's large head as it swung over the post fence, bringing along a mouthful of hay.
"Good morning, beast." She palmed his forehead, scratched beneath his forelock. "It seems you received far better treatment than I did. You're downright plump."
It may have been foolish to flee Kebos on a large white horse. Easily recognizable and remembered, even for the oblivious. A less flashy mount would have been prudent, but she couldn't bear to leave him behind. Not after all they endured together. Avarice deserved to graze lush mountain pastures for the rest of his days, not spend them standing in a wooden stall in this desert hell.
"We'll see if we can't dirty you up a bit. Make you a proper nag. Have you ever pondered life as a chestnut? What about a liver bay?"
He happily chewed his hay, ears flicking at the buzzing flies.
Black might be easiest to achieve. A little charcoal in water went a long way, and something easy to reapply when needed. The wisest course of action would be to hitch a ride with a local caravan, taking a slower, less conspicuous pace to Olisgard. Camouflaged horse or not, two riders racing across the desert would draw a lot of attention from scouting soldiers, and especially Rhet.
"Damnit, woman!" Melissah's shout carried out the windows. "Where are you?"
She was a merciless overlord, that girl.
Melissah clambered into the courtyard, hardly dressed and hair a mess. "I told you to stay inside! Khalimat's men are combing the desert for you."
"Imagine how difficult that job must seem."
"It's not." She grabbed Raven's elbow. "There're only so many sources of water in this desert, and we're hiding at the most likely of places. Come on, back to the house."
Raven allowed the girl to drag her to the shade of the stone hovel. "Then we agree. We should get on the road quickly."
"When we figure out a destination, yes. But running around blind will see us captured in no time."
"Where will Alyssa's carrier bird arrive? Does she know of this house? Will her messages make it here?"
"Yes, yes." The girl went straight to the pantry, returning with a basket of fruits and dried meat. "We've had several correspondences to this location. The birds know the way. She will reply, just be patient."
"I've been nothing but patient."
"I know. That was poor wording." Melissah frowned, picking at the basket weaves. "Besides, you need to give yourself a moment to breathe. You said you weren't strong enough to make it to Olisgard."
"That was before I'd rested."
She stared. "You mean the past five hours? That's resting?"
"After what I've been through, yes."
"I think your brain rotted in that cellar." She pushed a plate of figs and cheese in front of her. "Eat something. You're thin as a reed, and I won't have it."
Such a bossy little thing. Alyssa had certainly influenced this attitude. Raven bit into a wedge of hard cheese, making a show of chewing.
"Honestly, I don't know what Alyssa sees in you. You're infuriating."
"Perhaps that's the allure?"
"Yes, well, I'm sure you had no trouble getting her hot and bothered."
She choked on her second bite. "What?"
"Don't think I didn't notice you two," Melissah said. "The looks you gave one another were not as subtle as—"
The front door latch wiggled.
Melissah stood and glanced to her, eyes wide.
Stars above, what now? Raven grabbed the paring knife resting on the table, then darted to the wall opposite the entryway. How had they found her already? Blood pounded in her ears, growing louder with each thump of her heart. She was weary of fighting, and the brunt of it had only begun. She adjusted her grip on the knife, rehearsing a killing blow in her mind.
The lock clicked, and the door creaked open. A tall, hooded figure in a tan robes slipped inside and bolted the door closed. Santiago lowered the hood, revealing his half-masked face, chin peppered in stubble.
She exhaled the breath she'd been holding, releasing the instantaneous pressure that had built between heartbeats.
"How did everything go—" He jumped when he saw Raven postured right beside him. "Gods be damned, you startled me!"
"You're lucky she didn't kill you!" Melissah said. "You could have told me you were coming."
"To my own home?"
"Yes. She's a wanted woman, Santiago. We're all on edge."
"Oh, I'm well aware." He reached inside his robes and held up a carrier bird scroll. "This is from Alyssa."
Raven's stomach twisted into knots. "What does it say?"
"I didn't open it." He extended her the message. "It's addressed to you."
Hands trembling, she inspected the delicate script addressing the recipient, written above an unbroken, unfamiliar seal. Charming dark traveller. Only Alyssa had ever called her that. She broke the wax and unrolled the tiny scroll.
To the north, my love. Ride like the wind.
As if she'd travel any other way.
O.O.O.O.O
Alyssa crossed the herb garden, approaching the eleven Norrian soldiers sat along the wall, disarmed and bound in chains. Young, as Amara had said, having never seen battle before tonight. Never swung a sword in earnest. Still impressionable, with the right tactic.
Three za'hava stood guard over them, bone headdresses and scarves masking their faces.
"There's bread and pork in the kitchen," she said in Hudari. "Get your fill before it runs out."
They left without a word or sound, ghosting towards the kitchen like wraiths.
The Norrian soldiers stared as if she'd just burst into flames. Generally a good sign, in her experience.
"Do you know who I am?"
"You were the queen," one of them said. A lanky blond with a bloody lip. "Before you were kidnapped by the Hudar witch. Now, I'm not so sure."
"Oh, don't let my attire confuse you. I'm still queen." She paced the line of soldiers, thoroughly inspecting each young man. "I'm sure this seems strange to you. Invading my own kingdom with an army of Hudar. Slaying the king and his men. We're still paying for our ancestor's mistakes, where nothing worth having is gained without bloodshed." She paused on the last soldier. Neat black hair, pale complexion and bright blue eyes. "What's your name?"
He averted his gaze, squirming in his bindings. "Grayson."
"And who is your commanding officer?"
"Ah . . ." His wide eyes darted up and away. "You are, your grace."
Smart boy. He might be of good use. "Come with me. As for the rest of you." She leveled them with a cool stare. "I'll return to hear whether or not you believe I'm still your queen. I suggest you give it some thought."
She strode for the door, enjoying the way her black robes billowed, commanding a subconscious level of respect she'd never considered before. Such a grander exit than a stuffy, useless dress. It made her feel a different kind of powerful. "Keep up, boy."
Grayson scrambled to follow, chains and armor creaking.
They passed through the main kitchen, stuffed with hungry za'hava. Down the main hall, teeming with Hudar. While emptier than usual, the grounds now held an army of curious men and women from another land. Privacy was desired, and she knew just the place.
Down another hall, and then another. The fifth tapestry on the left concealed a dark servant's tunnel. After a quick glance for prying eyes, she pulled the thick material aside, gesturing. "Quickly."
Grayson only heisted a moment before stepping into the blackness. "Your grace, I can't see."
"Just stay close." She pushed past him, outstretched hand following the cool stone as the tunnel curved ahead. After a dozen paces, light trickled past the edges of another tapestry. She swept the cloth aside, leading them into a quiet sitting room with large windows overlooking the city below.
Grayson shuffled up beside her, chains clanking, and hungrily pressed his face to the glass. "The city wasn't burned? It—it looks as if nothing happened. Well, aside from the thousands of Hudar camped along the walls—"
She snatched the neck of his breastplate and slammed him to the wall. While taller and clad in steel armor, the young man seemed to shrink beneath her. "Listen to me," she growled, knuckles pressed into his throat. "Norr will never be the same after what happened here. Your fate's yet to be determined, Grayson, so I'll advise you to choose your next words carefully. Am I clear?"
"Yes," he stammered, eyes wide.
"How did you survive last night?"
"I—" He licked his lips. Swallowed. "The king commanded I send warning to Kebos. I snuck up the tower to the aviary. I wasn't seen. On the way back down Hudar cornered me in the residence hall. I fought with another solider until we were captured and brought to the courtyard."
"And did you complete your mission?"
"The raven made it out the window." His brows pinched, something flashing behind his eyes. "I . . . I also sent one to Northgate."
Both Kebos and Northgate would know of the invasion by now, regardless of this boy's efforts. There were too many Norrians living beyond the walls of Olisgard to contain. And news of this magnitude would spread like wildfire. Still, his honesty was promising.
"You appear to be an intelligent man. I won't blame you for doing what you believed was right. Nor should you blame me for the same. It's justice that I'm after, and while it might appear that it's for the Hudar, in the end, it's for anyone deserving. And I do mean anyone. No one has to die for everyone to live."
The fear slowly dissipated from him, replaced with furrowed brows and a strong nod. "You spared me, that's proof enough."
She let him go. "Is your family in Olisgard?"
"Down south. Mum's in Yales with my sister. My father died fighting Hudar at the Spire."
That fucking mountain. Such a waste of lives. "I'm sorry."
He bobbed his head and shrugged. "It was ten years ago. I didn't join the guard for revenge. I just . . . wanted to make him proud, you know?"
Gods above, this boy was too much. "Come, let me see your chains." She pulled a key from her robes, unlocked the shackles and tossed them aside.
He sighed and rubbed both wrists. "Thank you, your grace."
"Don't call me that. I may technically still be queen, but I'm nothing graceful, nor will I ever be."
"Yes, my la—" he stopped short at her glare, gesturing helplessly.
"Just speak to me as a human being. My name is Alyssa. Can you manage that?"
His posture relaxed, shedding an invisible burden between breaths. "I can."
"Good. Now, I need help, Grayson. My previous servant is no longer with us, and considering the circumstances, I'm going to have a hell of a time finding someone I can trust."
"You mean Melissah Rosario."
Her skin pricked. "You know her?"
"We've met. After you went missing, the king wanted her questioned."
That bastard always hated Melissah. What terrors had he put her through? Jaw clenched, she nodded. "Go on."
"I escorted her into the palace and she lost me in seconds. Left me standing alone in the corridor like a buffoon."
Her lips twitched. Once a thief . . .
"Made us all look like fools. She eluded capture for weeks. When the king ordered the city on high alert, she tried sneaking out the western gate." He tugged at the neck of his tunic. Fidgeted. "I confronted her, but let her go. The last I saw, she was galloping away on a shaggy pony."
An interesting turn of events. "You care for her?"
"It's stupid. I hardly know her. She's . . ." He raked a hand through his hair, closed his eyes, and huffed. "Yes, I care for her. Do you know where she is?"
"Of course I do."
"Is she safe?"
"None of us are safe. The army in Kebos will be visiting Olisgard in the near future, and I'm not sure they will like what I've done with the capital. However, as I'm sure you're aware, Melissah is beyond capable of taking care of herself. In fact, I owe her my life."
He chewed his lip, gaze wandering to the windows. She'd almost hooked him. A tad more assurance, and this young man would acquiesce her request. "What kind of help do you need?"
"A set of eyes and ears in the streets. The Hudar do not wish death upon any peaceful Norrian, and I would rather head off any contradicting gossip down there before anyone stupidly decides to take action."
"If they don't wish death, what do the Hudar want?"
"They want their lands and resources back. They want to be left alone, not mistreated by greedy Norrians. They are not unorganized, unintelligent, or to be underestimated, and the only way to deliver that message was in person, with a show of force. Kenos refused to see reason and it cost him his life. The citizens of Olisgard were spared because they yielded. There can be peace amongst us all, but not while Norr is run by wicked people."
"It was clever to invade as you did," he said. "You took the capitol, and cut off the north from the south. Not to mention it's a jarring blow to occupy the only walled city in the country."
She fiddled with the hem of her sleeve. "The Hudar did all the work. I just made a few suggestions. As it stands now, I feel strongly that Northgate will concede to however the southern province reacts."
"You mean however Khalimat reacts."
"Hence why I'm anticipating some bad weather."
"Well," Grayson said. "Then we'd better batten down the hatches."
O.O.O.O.O
"There have been no other messages from Olisgard, nor word from the king." Commander Xander pointed to a spot on the map. "But our scouting teams are enroute to the city. We should learn something soon."
Khalimat toyed with the stem of her wineglass. Xander, like most military officers, did not want to admit the king was dead. Because the queen was surely dead, and with no living heir or siblings during this time of unrest, the power of the crown officially shifted to the next available public figure.
The high priestess, Khalimat.
How strange the wheels of the world turn, but turn they do. She'd have to properly thank these brave Hudar for expediting her pursuit of the throne.
She studied the commander, sweating at her mahogany table like a pig known for slaughter. "And what of Northgate?"
"Still nothing," he said.
"There're three hundred soldiers unaccounted for."
"I'm aware." His jaw tightened. "The ravens never return. I can only assume Northgate's lost. Perhaps the Hudar invaded there first."
"If I may interject." Santiago leaned forward, hands peaked on the edge of the table. At her request, he'd forgone his trademark full mask for the one that left his jaw uncovered, serving to both humanize and elevate him beyond the grasp of these uncultured swine. A smirking, debonair opponent to their stuffy military ways. "It might be prudent to send a message to Olisgard addressing the Hudar."
"They don't have a written language," Xander scoffed.
"Oh, my dear commander, of course they do. And luckily I've an adequate understanding of Hudari. I would gladly lend aide in this matter."
Khalimat smiled through her sip of wine. None of the military leaders were fond of Santiago's presence in these meetings. A masked street thief advising the most powerful woman in the land. Their loathing and discomfort sated her thirst far greater than any drink known to man.
Xander drummed his fingers on the table, gaze boring a hole in the wall. "And what would you say to these allegedly literate Hudar?"
"Offer a means of communication. Inquire who leads them. Determine their motivation. A hoard of Hudar do not cross the frozen Targantis without reason."
Indeed, they did not. Why had they invaded?
"Whether or not the Hudar communicate," Xander said. "It's prudent to assume they've killed every soldier there. The residents of Olisgard aren't known for their backbones, so we can't rely on their help rescuing themselves."
"I'm inclined to agree." Santiago refilled the commander's wine. "The Hudar executed a precise tactical maneuver and caught us unprepared. They have the advantage and we best not forget that."
Khalimat shifted one of her long braids off her cheek, attention drifting. Raven would soon discover her brethren were near. Likely she already had. Would she make the trek to Olisgard, across the open, unprotected desert? Would any of the Hudar be skilled enough to subvert the charmed silver band keeping Raven's unspeakable powers from her?
Khalimat's magic was sound. A Hudar base, yes, but honed with Norrian skill. The invocation was complicated, and despite the harmless appearance, the metal would not yield to any force, no matter how hot or formidable. But who knew the capabilities of Raven's people? What if they could defeat the band?
The Hudar had every reason to want Norrians dead, and they were very capable of fulfilling that desire, with or without Raven. A rather troublesome problem, considering their superiority in open battle, now strengthened by the formidable walls of Olisgard. And looming on the horizon, unpredictable and overwhelming: the possibility of Raven's fury.
The possibility of annihilation.
Raven dabbled in old magic, channeled from beyond the veil. Beyond the scope of Khalimat's abilities. With that Hudar free, every passing moment could be Khalimat's last. Every moment of cruelty she'd inflicted upon that woman flashed behind her eyes, adding fuel to her burning dread. She spun her thumb ring around and around beneath the table, stomach twisted beyond repair. Out-smarted by the jackal-child. Raven must be reveling. Goddess, grant me strength to survive her wrath.
"Walls or not," Xander's voice cut into her internal anxiety, pleasant as a yapping dog. "They're not prepared to ward off a siege. We know Olisgard, they do not."
"Commander, if we attempt a siege, we'll run out of men long before they run out of food."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"And when were you last in Olisgard?" Santiago said. "Their market is bursting at the seams. Even if they haven't killed the civilians, their food stores would last well into summer."
Xander huffed, brows pinched. "Then what do you suggest? Concede the northern province to Hudar? Let them infest our lands while we sit like asses in the desert?"
"We concede nothing," Khalimat snapped. "And I'll caution you to watch your tone, commander."
He worked his jaw, likely swallowing a plethora of words he'd like to lash her with. "Apologies, priestess. I meant no disrespect—"
"Your feelings are not required. Should they overwhelm you again, I will see you replaced with someone capable of maintaining composure. Is that understood?"
"Yes, priestess—"
"Outstanding. Perhaps we can get back to the task at hand, now that we're all reacquainted with our places. Rally the regiment, commander."
His demeanor shifted from haughty to humble, a proper state for any man who confused his standing while in her presence. "What are the orders?"
"Arm them well and march north." She steeled her voice. "Surround Olisgard and burn it to the ground."
Xander sat back, brows arching to his hairline. "What?"
"Priestess?" Santiago's one eye locked on her, dark and unreadable, though his lips curved in a frown. "You'd forfeit the entire city? All five thousand citizens? Centuries of art, history, architecture?"
He did so love the arts. She could not begrudge his concern. There were many beautiful things in that city, but none were irreplaceable. She'd sooth his woes later in the evening, with a bottle of port and the irrefutable honor of pleasuring her.
"Like an illness, cut from my very flesh. Cities can be rebuilt. New history, created. Even without the army's numbers, Kebos is twice the size of Olisgard. I will rescue Norr from it's mistakes once it's learned from them." She held Santiago's gaze, repeating his own words with unwavering precision. "And what better way to start than cleansing the land with fire?"
"I see." Santiago looked away a moment, lips parted. "Well then. I will be of whatever service you require of me."
Yes, he did know his place. Such a good man.
Xander cleared his throat. "The resources in Olisgard alone are worth the effort—"
She focused on that galling swine, directing every iota of seriousness in a wordless stare. He meant nothing. Deserved nothing. And if his next words were not saturated in capitulation, she would feed him piece by piece to the fucking jackals.
"The orders are understood, priestess."
"No." She lifted her chin. "You will address me as your superior."
Xander licked his lips, defeated as a lowly street dog. "Yes, your grace. We march at first light."