Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Something about that didn’t sit right, though. He was my— Gods damn it, if smacking myself wouldn’t have drawn attention, I would’ve done it. He was not my anything.
“Since it’s been decided, we will have an army ourselves,” Commander Rhaziel said, and I focused on one word. Decided.
As if there had been another option.
“Unless invisibility is a talent of a Hyhborn army . . .” Claude made a show of looking around the hall. “. . . I’m assuming this army has yet to arrive?”
Oh my gods. . . .
Silence fell in the dining hall. It was so quiet I was sure I could hear a fly cough.
“The army is waiting on my orders.” Prince Thorne’s tone was frigid. “We have several hundred Hyhborn warriors, in addition to five hundred of the Crown’s Regiment”— the lowborn and caelestias who served as knights. “There are also Primvera’s forces.” He glanced at the Commander.
“I believe they have roughly three hundred Hyhborn warriors,” the Commander answered.
“So, that’s what?” Claude’s chest pressed against my back as he leaned forward. “A little over a thousand who will defend Archwood against several thousand of the Iron Knights and the armies of the Westlands? And five hundred of them are lowborn and caelestia?”
“Five hundred trained by us,” the Commander countered, his lips thinning.
“Several hundred Hyhborn has to equate to several thousand lowborn,” I assured Claude, gently squeezing his forearm. “That is enough.”
His stare met mine, and then he relaxed into his chair, likely thinking that it was my intuition speaking, but it wasn’t. My intuition was silent. I was just trying to keep him from saying one more idiotic thing and getting himself killed.
“Your pet is correct,” Prince Thorne stated.
My head swung in his direction, and I also had to remind myself to not say something idiotic as that irritation sparked deep within me once more. Claude’s term of endearment was often annoying, but he never said it the mocking way Prince Thorne did.
For once, Thorne was looking past my shoulder, to Claude. “Any of age who wish to defend their city, or can, should be preparing for such an event.”
“We have guards,” Claude murmured absently. “Trained men.”
My chest tightened as my gaze shot to the closed doors, toward where Grady waited in the halls.
“Any of age who are able can be given basic training,” Prince Thorne restated. “That would include you, Baron Huntington.”
Claude went still behind me; then the laugh that was crawling up my throat spilled out of his lips. “I haven’t picked up a sword since I came into my title.”
Nothing about the Hyhborn’s expressions said that surprised them.
“Then I would suggest you do that as soon as possible,” Prince Thorne advised. “After all, one cannot ask others to fight for their homes and lives if one is not willing to fight oneself.”
Prince Thorne spoke the truth, but what good was a soldier who was more likely to stab themselves than the enemy?
“As Commander Rhaziel stated before, Archwood is a vital port,” Prince Thorne continued after a moment. “Seizing Archwood and then Primvera would cause a catastrophic ripple effect throughout the entire kingdom. It would give the Westlands an advantage in the form of leverage, and the King will not tolerate that. Archwood would then be considered a loss.”
The dining hall fell silent. All I could hear for several moments was the pounding of my heart.
It was Hymel who broke the silence. “You mean, Archwood would fall into the hands of the Westlands, therefore becoming a part of this open rebellion of lowborn and Hyhborn?”
My intuition told me no, that wasn’t the case, and then it went silent on me, and I knew what that meant. That the answer lay with the Hyhborn, which I could not see, but could guess.
The icy finger of unease pressed against the nape of my neck.
“You wish to speak.” The Prince’s attention was fixed on me. “Please do so.”
I stiffened, knowing it wasn’t my place to ask questions, at least not in such a public setting, and I was already pushing it with my thoughts on the whole king and queen business. It was the Baron’s place, or at the very most, Hymel’s. But neither did. No one did.
The Prince waited.
I cleared my throat. “If the Westlands or even the Iron Knights alone succeeded in seizing Archwood, what would happen?”
“The ports and trading posts would all be destroyed.” Prince Thorne’s eyes met mine, the colors frighteningly calm. “As would be the entire city.”
CHAPTER 22
The diamond-crusted plates and the platters of uneaten food had long since been removed from the table, and only a few trays of desserts remained. Hymel had left with Commander Rhaziel and Lord Bastian to discuss preparations for the arriving regiment— something that the Baron should be taking part in. However, a bottle of brandy had replaced the champagne and only the three of us were now in the dining hall.