Fire spikes through my veins as I stride away. Those men thought they could take her, hurt her, and walk away unscathed. They’ll learn the price of such arrogance.
I’ll find them. And when I do, they’ll wish they’d never set eyes on Everly.
As I walktoward the command tent, my mind still churns with thoughts of Everly and the men who took her.
I push through the flap, where Luc and Gabriel stand over a map-covered table, their heads bent in discussion.
A broadsword hangs at Gabriel’s hip, and he wears mail armor and a surcoat with our tribe’s emblem—a serpent. He looks every inch the fierce Bloodstone warrior, his tall frame hardened by battle, though his silver-blue eyes hold a hint of weariness I’ve noticed creeping in more and more.
Beside him, Luc cuts a leaner figure but is no less deadly. A bow and quiver rest against his back, while twin daggers nestle in sheaths at his thighs. His sandy hair falls in unkempt waves,brushing his shoulders—probably because he hasn’t taken the time to cut it. I make a mental note to tease him about it later. The shaggy look doesn’t suit him.
“You’re both late,” I say as I move to where they stand. “I expected you weeks ago.”
It’s been months since I sent a missive to Luc, my cousin, telling him I needed his army to join mine in Karra.
Gabriel’s lips quirk into a smirk. “You’re in a foul mood. Did someone piss in your ale?”
Instead of answering him, I stare down at the map of Karra and its surrounding areas.
“Do you have a report for us?” Gabriel asks.
I place my hands on the table’s edge as I speak. “The unrest in Karra is growing stronger by the day. I’ve seen it firsthand—whispers in taverns, furtive glances between its people, and an undercurrent of tension that wasn’t there a summer ago.” I pause, considering my next words carefully. “I believe that this isn’t merely civil unrest. There’s a pattern to it, a purpose.”
“Then, we aren’t leaving until we help you quell this rebellion,” Luc says, his voice firm.
I turn and grab a jar of wine and three goblets from a nearby shelf. “How many men did you bring with you, Luc?”
“Two thousand,” he says as I pour the wine and hand both men a goblet full.
“Good. Now, we have four thousand men here.” I pour a third goblet to the brim and take a drink before continuing. “We may need every sword we can get.”
Tension lines deepen across Luc’s forehead as he leanscloser to the map. “What’s your plan, Cenric? You know this city better than anyone.”
“We need to root out the source of this unrest,” I say. “But we can’t move too quickly.”
Gabriel speaks up. “What about infiltration? We could plant some of our men among the populace, gather information from the inside.”
It’s moments like these that remind me why Gabriel is so valuable. His quiet demeanor often masks a sharp tactical mind.
Luc rubs his chin. “It’s risky, but it could work. We need to choose our men carefully, though. Anyone too obvious would be spotted in a heartbeat.”
I take another swig of wine, then speak. “There’s more. Over the past few weeks, I’ve found some of my men dead in the city.”
Gabriel’s eyes narrow. “Accidents?”
My jaw clenches as I shake my head. “No. They were targeted. Throats slit in dark alleys. Bodies dumped in the river. It’s not random violence. It’s calculated.”
Luc’s hand tightens around his goblet. “How many?”
The words taste bitter against my tongue as I speak. “Twenty.” I move to the tent flap, shove it aside, and stare out over the camp. “These attacks are direct hits against us.”
I turn back around as Luc frowns.
“What makes you say that?” he asks.
“The precision of the attacks, the way they’re targeting our warriors.” Frustration seeps into my voice as I add, “It’s tooorganized to be random violence. And I think it might even be aimed at Roland and his rule.”
Gabriel’s eyes harden as he speaks in a flat voice. “Why do you think that about our chieftain?”
