69

Elias stood in front of the gates and grinned up at the lookout. Kodan and I stood behind him. My feet ached from the hike, and I was tired down to my bones. It was like the consistent ache in my heart, like a fresh bruise, was making my exhaustion more impossible to ignore than ever.

“Elias of Nightfall,” he said. “I’ve come to speak to your pack leader. And hopefully break bread.”

The lookout gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth. She ducked down in the tower, and then the wooden gates slowly began to crank open. They only opened just enough for us to slip through, and then closed immediately behind us.

“Thank you,” Elias said, clapping the lookout on the shoulder.

She stared at him wide-eyed. She looked no older than fifteen. “Your Highness,” she said. “We—I—I’ll announce your presence.”

“Relax,” Elias said with a warm smile. It was a kinder expression than I’d seen since I’d coaxed him out of the cave. “I grew up in this town. No need for any theatrics.”

The lookout was still stammering as she led us through the narrow streets of the village. As we walked, people peeked out of the taverns and houses and shops, murmuring to each other with expressions of awe and delight. Siena was small but charming, made up of functional wooden buildings with the same thatched roofs as the lookout tower, a few with stone facades and carvings of wolves. It looked old—old and sturdy, like it had been here for many years, and would be here long after its current inhabitants were gone. Kodan sighed as she looked around.

“It hasn’t changed at all since we were kids,” she murmured. We passed by a tavern, and Kodan nodded at it. “That’s where I got drunk for the first time. I was nine.”

The main street terminated at a stone building with a low, arched doorway. It was quieter than the rest of the town, and inside, it was dim and warm despite the cold weather. A fire roared in the hearth, and in front of it, an older man in plain but well-tailored canvas clothes was in deep discussion with a man in worn leather armor.

“Thaddeus,” the lookout said. “I apologize for interrupting, but—”

“There’s the old man,” Elias said. His booming voice echoed around the stone room.

The older man stood up, eyes widening as he strode across the floor. The heels of his boots cracked on the stone. “Gods strike me where I stand,” he said with a shake of his head. “King Elias.” He smiled at the lookout. “Thank you, Hela,” he said. “Take the news of Elias’ arrival to the house. See what kind of dinner we can pull together on short notice.”

The girl nodded and hurried back out under the arched doorway.

“That’s not necessary,” Elias said.

“Certainly it is,” Thaddeus said with a grin. Then he turned his warm gaze to me. “This must be Queen Reyna,” he said. He took my hand in his own strong, callused hand and squeezed. “Word of the Choice traveled far. It does appear the king has chosen well.”

“Honored to make your acquaintance,” I said with a nod.

“And my finest general, Kodan of Nightfall,” Elias said. He pointedly did not confirm nor deny Thaddeus’ comment on the Choice, but it was just pleasantries.

“One of my own is with me here,” Thaddeus said. “General Artin. We were discussing the happenings in Efra. I assume that’s what brings you here to Siena.”

“Will you retake the throne?” Artin said, low, from his seat by the fire.

“I will,” Elias growled. “I did not win the throne from Daybreak only to have the duchess return it.”

“Good,” Artin said. “The Nightfall wolves of Siena will stand behind you. But you know our numbers are small.”

“We’ve sent word to Starcrest and Duskmoon,” Kodan said. “If you can assist me with messengers, we can have the reinforcements come here, to prepare an assault on Efra without Daybreak’s knowledge.”

“Ah, and that’s why you’ve come here as well, is it?” Thaddeus said.

“It’s convenient,” Kodan said with a smile. “Your falconers are things of legend.”

“Legend seems a bit strong,” Thaddeus said. “My servants will take you to the falconer’s hold.”

She turned to Elias. “And after that, Your Highness?”

“Go to Efra,” he said. “Remain hidden. Gather what information you can safely. Don’t stay long—I need you to help prepare.”

“Sir,” she said.

She hurried out of the room, guided by Thaddeus’ servant.

“Come,” Thaddeus said. “I’ll show you to the guest quarters. You can rest and clean up while we’re preparing dinner. Discussions of strategy will be a bit easier once we’ve all had some wine, don’t you agree?”

Artin nodded demurely. Thaddeus led us up a narrow staircase to the second level of the building. The ceilings were so low, Elias had to duck his head to keep from knocking against the rafters. At the end of the hall, Thaddeus pushed a heavy wooden door open and gestured for us to step inside. There was already a hastily built fire burning in the hearth, and the covers of the simple bed had been turned down. Obviously the servants had worked in a hurry. The bed called to me—after so many nights on the ground, or in a cot, or a freezing bedroll, a straw-stuffed mattress with a thick cotton comforter appealed to me more than any royal silk sheets.

“I’ll send word up for dinner,” Thaddeus said. “There’s some whiskey tucked in the built-ins, should you need to lift your spirits before.”

“Thank you, Thaddeus,” Elias said. “Your kindness is deeply appreciated.”

“Of course,” he said. “No less for the true King of Frasia.”

Thaddeus closed the door behind him.

Finally, in the tiny guest bedroom with its low ceiling and crackling fire and cool stone floors, we were alone.

Elias stood in front of the fire, shoulders square and his gaze fixed on the flickering flame.