“Meet us at the tunnel. We may yet have need of your axe.”
Jac takes off like a shot, headed west along the lakeshore to the rickety stone tower that houses a flock of well-trained avian messengers. Cadogan, more somber than I’ve ever seen him, has already turned to the dual lines of battle-ready Ember Guild and rattled off their marching orders. Lump in my throat, I watch them go until I lose sight of their maroon uniforms halfway down King’s Avenue.
“Where is Uther?” Penn asks, calling my attention back.
Farley shrugs. “Home with Carys and the baby, last I heard.”
“No. I’m here,” comes a breathless voice from just behind us as Uther jogs to a stop and joins our circle. His steady gray eyes sweep over me and Soren before coming to rest on Penn’s face. “Where do you need me?”
“Uther, your family…” Penn hesitates. “Are you certain—”
“I said,where do you need me?”
Penn clasps his hand on Uther’s shoulder. “Go to the barracks. Make sure any stragglers are out of bed, armed, and ready to fight. Bring whoever you can find to the front gates.”
Uther nods. His eyes meet mine for a brief instant, shining with undisguised warmth, before he, too, races away into the night.
“Farley.” Penn’s attention shifts to the redhead. He looks grave, leaning heavily on his cane, bow and arrow strapped across his back, short sword hanging from his hip. “You’ll be at the keep. The guards there already know the lockdownprotocols, but I want to ensure people have a place to fall back, if necessary.”
“The keep? You’re joking.”
“Farley. It’s the safest place—”
“Fucksafe!” Farley’s expression mottles with anger. “I want to fight!”
“Your leg is not recovered.”
“I don’t need my leg to swing a bloody sword!”
“I need you with Rhya.”
Farley quiets.
I tense.
At my side, so does Soren.
“I’m with Farley on this,” I interrupt, nearly shaking in my attempt to keep from screaming. “You aren’t sidelining me. I’m not running or hiding. Not this time. Not while you all risk your lives to keep the city safe—”
Penn glowers. “Rhya—”
“She’s right, Pendefyre,” Soren says, surprising me. “We need her. Your powers are not at full strength—”
“I don’t need you to tell me about my own bloody limitations, Soren. And I definitely don’t need you putting ideas in her head. She has no training for battle.”
“What have you spent these past weeks teaching her, then?” Soren asks, incredulous. “From what I witnessed up on that parapet, perhaps your lessons have been more focused on the bedroom than the battlefield.”
Penn’s expression darkens with wrath. “Be very careful what you say next, nymph.”
“Why?” Soren’s brows arch sardonically. “Is the truth too hard to swallow?”
“Stop it! Both of you.” I step between the two men, cutting offPenn’s sight line to Soren before things escalate to bloodshed. “Penn, please. Now is not the time to be overprotective—”
“We’re under attack,” he counters. “It’s precisely the time to be overprotective.”
“You can’t protect me fromthis!”
“I can bloody well try!” His words are a roar, right in my face. But beneath his rage, I see his fear. I feel it, too, a surge of pure emotion through our bond. “Gods, Rhya, for once, would you just listen to me without fighting every step of the—”