“Dangerous,” Luza says thoughtfully. “But with a bit of training on our new cache of stolen weapons, it might work. We don’t know the jungle, though. I don’t suppose you know anyone with expertise?”
The look she gives him was pure calculation. Tovian shifts uncomfortably.
“Not many people venture into The Boscage, for good reason.” I shoot him a glance. “The dragons are only the most recognizable danger. Even the pirates haven’t attempted to venture into the jungle.” I don’t mention the ones that died chasing me. Luza doesn’t need to know about that incident.
“They’re going to retaliate,” Luza says grimly. “Soon.”
A dull throb begins at the back of my head, where the bump has swelled into a knot the size of my fist. Thinking hurts, literally. Tovian cuts me a worried glance.
“That is why I need to get back to camp,” I say. “Luza, too. But first, we should get the wagons to safety. Take them south, to the caves along the western wall. We can hide in them for a long time. Having a second base camp will put us in better position to fight.”
“Won’t we be too close to Oceanside?” A worry line mars Luza’s forehead. “If they find the caves, we’d be trapped.”
“That’s why they’ll make a good hiding place. We can continue raiding Oceanside with smaller attacks. Pick off their shipments and stockpile weapons.” Assuming we can assemble an army and train it, having a store of weapons would be useful. I wince and rub the back of my neck. The headache feels like it’s crawling down my spine. “The pirates don’t know about the caves, or they already would have commandeered them.”
“What about the Skía? They know this island as well as we do.” Luza said.
“They must have decided not to use them. From what our spy network has told us, there aren’t many Skía leaders compared to the number of pirates. Logically, they’ll expect us to go north.” I point at the map, tracing the route with the tip of my finger. The lines swim briefly. Ignoring Tovian’s concerned look, I continue laying out our strategy. “We should send as many empty wagons as we can spare that direction. Throw them off the trail.”
A wave of nausea forces me to press my fist to my lips. I will not vomit in front of Tovian. I refuse.
“What about the situation further north?” Luza glances at the unrelenting clouds of smoke in the distance.
“We’ll tackle the fires once we’ve secured Oceanside. Round up any survivors who haven’t already fled. Try to put out the wildfires.” My throat closes. “We are going to have to fight for every inch of land we reclaim. At least Nansier was able to halt the invaders’ march to the mountains.”
Two mountains, one an active volcano, the other covered in ice year-round, mark the northern entrance to our island. If the invaders had managed to capture it, we wouldn’t have stood a chance at mounting a rebellion. The Skía sent a small force to Nansier, the forested border between Central Auralia and the mountain district, but that district threw everything it had into holding off the invaders. It succeeded—but at an enormous cost. The main city was razed. Thousands of lives were lost, including Kenton’s entire family. The Duke of Nansier went down with his people, and his wife and children stood by him until the bitter end.
The shipments we stopped today were intended to reinforce Skía battalions occupying Central Auralia as they prepared for a second assault.
We won’t be conquered easily, but losing this war is still the likeliest outcome.
“Excuse me.”
Losing the battle with increasing nausea, I stumble away and empty the contents of my stomach behind a bush.
I can’t let one little concussion stop me. Not now. Not ever.
Chapter 8
“You need to come home to River Bend.”
My father’s tone is unbending. I smother my sigh. Queens don’t sigh, and they don’t accept orders, even from their father.
Then again, I’m not actually a queen yet.
“You took a foolish risk. You were injured. If not for this mysterious savior, you might have died.” When I don’t argue, my father says with begrudging curiosity, “Who is this Tovian person?”
How to explain him… I roll my shoulders, trying to ease the ache. I’m out of generic Tylenol and the last ibuprofen tablet I’ve allotted myself is wearing off. Every muscle in my body screamed in protest when the wagon bumps over the pitted road. Which is about every five seconds. “He’s someone I met recently. Tovian has helped me on several occasions, and twice saved my life. He’s trustworthy.”
“But whoishe?”
“He’s—”
I stop. Tovian said his people wished to remain hidden, and I have no right to violate their secrecy. Even to my own father.
“Tovian is from a village near Oceanside. Close to The Boscage,” I hedged.
“Nobody lives in The Boscage,” she said. “It’s too dangerous.”
