“I think the relevant question is why,” Vera said.
Azaleen met her gaze. This hurried early meeting explained the rarity of Vera’s hair being worn down, as she probably hadn’t time to arrange her usual style. “Exactly.” Leaving the table, Azaleen paced.
“Camille, are you sure there was no response from Clover Hollow?” she asked. “Perhaps the pigeon was killed by a hawk. Could the Oligarchy be answering our call for help?”
The ambassador lifted empty palms and shook her head. “No reply.”
Stark moved to the map, leaning over to inspect the new marker. “Or,” he proposed, his mustache twitching, “have they thrown in their lot with the Republic? Maybe that’s who they’re heading to help.”
“Why?” queried Shaw. “The Republic’s military can crush us without their help.”
“Maybe,” Azaleen said, steel in her voice. “So far, they’ve demonstrated a lack of leadership and restraint. We haven’t lost yet, and we won’t as long as I draw breath. Maybe this is one of their experiments that went wrong.”
“We can conjecture all day,” Vera countered, clearly shaken by the reports. “Until we see for ourselves, there’s no way to know.”
“Precisely.” Azaleen pivoted to Luke. “Which is why, Captain Moreau, I must rely on VERT again. Make haste to find this supposed army ofrobots. Send detailed information fast. How many are there? What humans are with them? Are they still on track for Stonevale? What are these fire-shooting weapons? Do not—under any circumstance—engage these hostile machines. Observe. Report. Stay alive.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He snapped to a sharp salute. “Considering the terrain, the need for speed, and your nonengagement directive, I recommend that the whole team ride motorcycles. Private Sutter can carry the pigeon crate on her back. We won’t require big guns or heavy equipment, and we might need to spread out over several kilometers to avoid missing them. Specialist Walker has radios that function at that distance.”
“Permission granted,” General Stark answered before Azaleen could. “Take whatever you need and find out what the hell is going on up there. Mother of Ruin, what are those lunatics up to?” He rubbed the back of his neck, a pained expression creasing his weathered face.
“Be quick,” the queen charged, staring Luke in the eyes, “and be careful.”
“Understood.” With a direct about-face, he exited the war room.
Azaleen wanted to rush through the door with him, find Lark, hug and kiss her before they set off. It’s what she longed to do with every fiber of her being. Unfortunately, there was no time for sentiment. They’d enjoyed a wonderful night together in her bed. Caelen had been thrilled Lark was staying over—though she was certain he didn’t understand what that entailed. Eldrin had merely smirked, keeping any criticism he might harbor to himself.
Will they accept her? No. No thinking about that now,Azaleen rebuked herself.One crisis at a time.
Returning her attention to her cabinet, the queen pulled her shoulders back. “Secretary Navarro, try again. Send another epistle, informing them we’re aware of the mechanical soldiers’ approach and asking whether their intent is hostile.”
“Right away.” Camille opened a notebook in her lap and pulled a pencil from her handbag.
“General Stark.” He met her gaze, one hand resting on the map table, the other on his hip. “We need a backup plan. Gather your sharpest minds andconsider every unconventional angle. What do we do if Marchland, Stonevale, or both fall?”
“Yes, Madam Queen,” he said gravely. “I’ll search my war history books as well.”
“That’s the man I know and trust.” Azaleen felt one pebble lift from the mass of concerns weighing on her. “What would Alexander the Great do?”
Reuben’s countenance lit, hope returning to his eyes. “In three thousand years, he’s the only general who never lost a battle despite being often outnumbered.”
“Vera, you’re good with numbers.” Azaleen shifted to her finance secretary. “Work up the logistics for an evacuation of Nelanta if it comes to that. How long would it take, the best paths of retreat, the best places to hide? How many ships and boats do we have? How many citizens could we save?”
Even as she issued the directive, a sharp pain stabbed her gut. Too many wouldn’t make it, and the conquerors would enslave them. The rest would wander as refugees.High Chief Batise would let them settle in the Frostlands,she thought.But my people have adapted to a different climate. Life would be hard, but at least they’d be free. No. We still stand. I trust General Longstreet, and Calder—he’d die before a white flag flew over Stonevale.
“Beaudean, make sure food gets to our soldiers. Shaw, keep searching for ammunition caches we haven’t uncovered in forty years. We need every bullet.”
He nodded, tipping his hat.
“What about me?” Rosalind asked. “My librarians report that books and artistic treasures have been locked away in vaults all across the country. Schools are still open in most towns, but—”
“They should remain open as long as it’s safe,” Azaleen said. “Maintaining routine and normalcy is essential. Schools and churches make people feel safe. If we start closing them, some are likely to panic, start looting, and resort to other desperate measures.”
The queen passed her gaze around at her cabinet—some seated, others standing, all drawn tighter than a bow. “We will do all we can for as long as we can.What hope is there left in the world if we don’t shine its light from our Stone Mountain? Chief Fontaine, I wish to address the people. Please arrange it.”
Lark has given me strength and hope. It’s time I do the same for Nelanta.
“Meeting adjourned.”