Fantasy of Fire (The Tainted Accords #3)(80)

“A force will need to stay in the Outer Rings,” Roscoe says immediately.

“How many can we afford?” Jovan asks.

“A quarter,” Drummond responds. “Based on prior reports of the number of Solati approaching, combined with Malir’s reports from the last few days.”

“A quarter?” Jovan says softly. “I need those men.” He paces for a moment.

“All right,” he says, a frown between his brows. “It will take time for news to spread to the remaining rebels in the Third and Fifth Sectors. I give a fifth of the watch for this task. I want numbers focused in the Sixth through Second. If the battle does not require such numbers, I will send men back. The Solati’s group skill is unparalleled. From the Ire’s last report they are two hundred strong. We usually allow five men per Solati. I won’t go in with less than four.”

He turns to Malir. “Give the order; all able-bodied men must be ready to leave for the Great Stairway at first light. I want immediate deployment of the cavalry.”

Malir bows and rushes out of the room.

“Where was the warning from our bloody scouts?” Jovan roars. He turns to Terk. “I want the word to go out that all women and children of the assembly are to remain inside of the castle—effective in the next three hours.”

Jovan’s power emanates from his every motion. He is every inch the king as he barks orders to his subjects.

“What about guards for the women and children?” Jak asks.

“They will need to be taken from the number I’ve left you with,” the king says.

“I worry it’s not enough,” frets Drummond.

“It will have to do,” Jovan replies brusquely before turning to me. “Olina, what will we be facing?”

Olandon freezes beside me, and I also tense. I know what my brother is thinking. Should I, as the Tatuma of the looming army, be helping my enemy? I’m at odds between loyalties to Osolis and doing what I know is right: foiling my mother’s war. The silence thickens. I know many of the people he intends to kill; they are my people. But they brought this unnecessary war to Glacium’s doorstep and there are people I care for here as well. I remind myself of my overall plan and the way forward is clear.

“They may undertake any number of strategies,” I start. “However, we do have certain strategic battle plans. I imagine you are aware of these?”

“Unbelievable,” Olandon says, rising.

I raise my voice. “Have you something to say, brother?” I ask. He’s shaking with so much fury, I wonder if he’ll be able to form the words.

“You are going to help them kill our people?” he says incredulously.

I don’t have time to help him understand as I normally would. I let ice fill my veins and a stranger’s voice, hard and unyielding, comes out of my mouth. “You would do well to stand down,” I say.

He holds my gaze. I read the confusion and anger there. He dips his eyes and steps back to the right of my chair. “Tatuma,” he says in an emotionless voice.

I turn back to the king. “They will do anything to make your numbers useless. The entirety of their force will focus in one area, whatever zone they deign the weakest. They’ll aim to destroy your morale, and to destroy you, as the army’s figurehead.” I doubt anything I’ve said has surprised Jovan. These were normal war tactics. Likely, he’s imagining how he’ll counter this by encircling Mother’s army, to cut them off from retreat. The thought of this slaughter makes me vaguely sick. I curl my trembling hands into tight fists.

“Thank you,” Jovan says softly. He’s belatedly realized what he's asked of me.

I hold up a hand, interrupting him mid-sentence. “I will help you, King Jovan, but I ask you one thing in return.”

He doesn’t speak. We’re not friends in this moment. We are rulers on opposite sides of a war.

“I know there will be casualties, but when your soldiers have the opportunity to take hostages rather than kill, I ask you to show mercy. It is my mother’s greed that forces these women and men to your doorstep. They only follow orders.” I hear a couple of the advisors mutter their dissent. “I also ask that any hostages taken are not mistreated.” I don’t know what happens during questioning, but I can guess.

“Agreed,” Jovan says.

I take a deep breath and close my heart against my brother’s disappointment. “Then there’s more you should know.”





Chapter Eighteen


I march with the delegates near the front of the procession, stomping through the shallow snow. My steps are fueled by memories of the unity I saw in the castle when Jovan addressed his assembly. The people in that room yesterday would die for their king—and gladly. The thought that the Bruma will have to do that makes me vaguely sick. “Men” as young as fifteen, walk with us—an unsettling fact. None of the Bruma seemed surprised about children going to battle. Perhaps their reaction was lost in the hour of chaos which erupted after hearing the Tatum’s army was on their doorstep. It wasn’t the only announcement Jovan made. I’m not sure telling his people about the Ire amid the chaos he’d already unleashed was wise. But I suppose if the Ire showed up at the battle, the momentary mayhem it caused for the assembly back at the castle would escalate to something a lot more like anarchy.