Chapter 174: Just A Cut and Chapter 175: Let Her Decide

Chapter 174: Just A Cut

Daravan attacked.

No warning. No command.

One moment he stood between them.

The next, his sword was at the leader’s throat.

The Lyehiran twisted aside. Steel caught leather instead of flesh.

Serali struck from the other direction.

Shadow wrapped around his ankle.

He cut through it.

Daravan drove him backward.

Again.

Again.

For the first time since stepping into the square, the man gave ground.

Serali felt something fierce and ugly rise in her chest.

Good.

Let him.

Let him learn what it felt like.

He caught Daravan’s blade, shoved it aside—

and stopped reaching for the silver-grey cord.

Serali noticed because she had been waiting for it.

No net.

No needle.

No attempt to catch her wrist and drag her closer.

Instead, his free hand went beneath his coat.

Something dark flashed.

Serali knew that blade.

The narrow dagger.

The groove down its center.

Marielle’s blood still dark along one edge.

Her stomach dropped.

The leader slashed.

Serali jerked back.

The dagger passed in front of her throat. Too low to reach it.

Too shallow.

He came again.

Not for her chest. Her wrist.

Serali snapped shadow around his arm.

He tore free and reversed the blade.

The point skimmed toward the inside of her forearm.

She blocked with a plate of shadow.

Metal scraped across darkness.

Daravan struck at his ribs.

The leader retreated just far enough to avoid the blade—

then immediately cut toward Serali again.

Her cheek this time.

A shallow horizontal arc.

Serali ducked.

Something was wrong.

Not the dagger.

The attack.

He had spent the first half of the fight trying to restrain her.

Then he had tried to make her surrender.

Now—

He was not trying to take her.

He was not trying to kill her.

The dagger came for her wrist again.

Serali twisted.

Its point caught the edge of her sleeve.

Fabric tore.

Nothing beneath it.

She stared at the narrow split.

Skin untouched.

The realization landed cold.

He was trying to cut her.

“Daravan.”

“I see it.”

The captain blocked the next slash.

Serali moved behind him. “Why?”

“Later.”

Helpful.

The leader lunged around Daravan.

Not at Daravan.

Past him.

Serali threw herself sideways.

The blade passed so close to her face she felt air move against her skin.

Shadow exploded upward between them.

The leader staggered.

Daravan hit him across the shoulder with the flat of his sword. “Stay behind me.”

“I can fight.”

“I am aware.”

“Then stop saying that.”

“Stop trying to catch knives with your face.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were remarkably close.”

Another Lyehiran came at Daravan from the side.

Serali threw him into a lantern post.

Across the square, something changed.

Not suddenly.

Not like the moment the Lyehirans had changed targets.

This was slower.

A pressure turning.

The first shock was gone.

The Watch knew where the attackers were. Palace guards had stopped reacting and started hunting.

Harrek’s lines had closed around the western side.

Pell and Orran were no longer simply keeping attackers away from civilians. They were taking them down.

One Lyehiran struck at Orran.

Orran caught his wrist.

Pell hit him from behind.

He went to his knees.

“Alive!” Daravan shouted.

Pell kicked the weapon away. “Trying!”

On the eastern side, the crowd shifted.

A path opened.

Lessa saw it.

She moved.

“Lessa!” Callene shouted.

She did not stop.

Her skirts were already gathered in both hands.

Across the square. Between two guards. Around a shattered festival cart. Over the remains of a lantern stand.

Hagen saw her coming.

He had Everly behind him.

Still.

Always.

One Lyehiran lay unconscious near the family platform.

Another was fighting two royal guards at the foot of the steps.

Hagen looked at Lessa. Then down at Everly.

“Come here.”

Everly did.

He caught her beneath the arms and lifted her over the low rail.

Lessa reached them.

Hagen put Everly directly into her arms. “Take her.”

“I have her.”

“Do not let go.”

Lessa tightened both arms around Everly. “I won’t.”

Something in Hagen changed.

Not much.

But for the first time since the attack began, he no longer had to keep his body within arm’s reach of his niece.

He turned.

Magic gathered around both hands.

“Now,” he said, “I can be annoying properly.”

The Lyehiran coming up the platform steps discovered the difference immediately.

Hagen hit him hard enough to send him back down them.

A Lyehiran on the lower platform raised his arm.

Hagen saw him.

So did Lessa.

The spell came.

Not at Hagen. Past him.

At Lessa. At Everly.

Hagen turned.

No hesitation. Amber-gold light burst outward.

A shield snapped into existence between them.

The spell struck.

Most of it broke against the shield. Most.

He stayed upright.

Pain burned beneath his ribs.

He looked down.

His coat had split along one side.

Blood was already darkening the fabric beneath.

Wonderful.

Everly saw it. “Uncle Hagen!”

Hagen straightened before she could see him wince. “Minor wardrobe disagreement.”

Lessa stared at the blood. “That is not your wardrobe.”

“Please don't undermine me in front of the child.”

Another attacker came.

Hagen raised his hands.

The motion hurt.

Fine.

He had been hurt before.

Behind him, Everly was crying.

That was considerably less acceptable.

The Lyehiran charged.

Hagen’s magic struck him in the legs.

He went down hard.

Hagen closed the distance and kicked the sword from his hand.

A guard descended on him immediately.

Good. Someone else could have that one.

Hagen turned back.

Lessa had Everly completely covered now.

Her body curved over the child.

One hand cradled the back of Everly’s head.

The other—

Blood.

Hagen’s stomach dropped. “Lessa.”

“I’m fine.”

Everyone in this square had apparently agreed to become a liar.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

A thin cut ran along Lessa’s forearm where flying stone or steel had caught her.

Not deep.

Bleeding anyway.

Everly saw that too. “Lessa.”

“I said I'm fine.”

“You're bleeding.”

“So is your uncle.”

“Thank you,” Hagen said. “Very helpful.”

Lessa shot him a look.

Hagen turned back toward the square. Amber fire gathered again. “Stay down.”

Allandra had seen the spell coming too.

Had seen Hagen turn his body toward Everly instead of away from the blast.

Had seen him stagger.

The Mantle flared.

Gold flooded beneath Allandra’s skin.

The sword in her hand blazed white.

For one dangerous heartbeat, the air around her shimmered with heat.

Hagen.

Blood at his side.

Everly.

Hidden beneath Lessa.

Serali.

Still fighting.

Allandra crushed the power down.

The glow receded.

Not gone.

Controlled.

Her grip tightened on the sword.

“Hagen?”

He did not look at her.

“Still irritating.”

Good enough.

A Lyehiran tried to take advantage of her distraction.

Allandra caught his blade.

He had chosen an unfortunate moment.

She struck once.

Hard.

His weapon flew from his hand.

Twice.

The flat of her sword caught him across the ribs.

He hit the stones.

A palace guard moved to secure him.

Allandra was already looking elsewhere.

“Close around the princess!” she ordered. “Lessa stays inside the line!”

The guards obeyed.

Three converged around Lessa and Everly.

Only then did Allandra allow herself to look toward Serali.

Lia did not look up, did not even acknowledge the world beyond herself and her patient.

Marielle sat on the stones with her back against the demonstration platform.

Her face had gone pale.

Lia removed one blood-soaked cloth and replaced it with another. “Hold that.”

Marielle pressed down. “I am.”

“Harder.”

“I am beginning to suspect you define that word differently than I do.”

“Yes.”

Lia put one hand over the wound.

Soft healing light gathered beneath her palm.

The bleeding slowed.

For a moment.

Then red spread through the clean cloth again.

Lia went very still.

Marielle looked down. “That seems suboptimal.”

“Do not start.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You were thinking about it.”

Marielle considered. “Yes.”

Lia looked toward one of her apprentices.

“Antidote kit. Now.”

The apprentice ran.

Marielle frowned. “You think it was poisoned?”

“I think I want options.”

That was not an answer.

Marielle recognized it.

So did Lia.

Neither said anything else.

In the center of the square, the leader glanced toward them.

Then back at Serali.

His breathing had changed. Harder now. Blood still ran from beneath one eye.

One shoulder hung slightly lower where Daravan had struck him.

Around him, Avalusia was closing.

The Lyehirans had been terrifying when they appeared.

Invisible. Scattered. Everywhere at once.

Now they were becoming individuals again. And individuals could be surrounded.

Daravan drove the leader backward.

Serali caught his escape to the left with shadow.

He changed direction.

Daravan was there.

For one heartbeat, the three of them moved in perfect ugly rhythm.

Steel.

Shadow.

Steel.

The leader ducked Daravan’s blade and threw something toward Serali.

Another net.

Serali almost laughed.

Almost.

Shadow caught it in midair.

She twisted.

And threw it back.

The leader swore and cut himself free before it fully closed.

Daravan stared.

“Was that necessary?”

“Yes.”

“Fair.”

A cry came from the fountain.

One of the Lyehirans had broken through Harrek’s line.

Orran intercepted.

The agent slashed at his throat.

Orran ducked and drove his sword into the man’s side.

Too deep.

The Lyehiran collapsed.

Orran caught him as he fell.

For one stunned heartbeat, he stared down at the blood.

No time.

Another attacker came.

Pell met that one before he reached him.

The fight had changed.

The Avalusians were no longer merely holding.

They were winning.

And the Lyehirans knew it.

One disappeared.

Not fled.

Vanished.

Invisibility folded around him.

“Daravan!” Serali shouted.

“I saw.”

“Harrek!” Daravan roared. “Watch the exits! They’re breaking!”

Harrek wiped blood out of one eye.

“West lane, lock it! Nobody chases blind!”

Good.

Because the leader was looking around now.

Counting.

Serali recognized it.

Not fear.

Assessment.

His people were down.

One near the fountain.

Two being bound by the Watch.

Another unmoving beside the pavilion.

Others still fighting, but surrounded.

Too many guards had joined the square.

Too many exits had closed.

The attack had failed.

The leader looked toward Marielle, still bleeding on the ground. Useful.

He looked back at Serali.

Daravan saw it. Whatever passed across his face was subtle. Serali still recognized it.

He did not like where the man was looking.

Neither did she.

The leader stepped backward.

Daravan advanced. “Done already?”

The man smiled.

Blood from Marielle’s gear had reached his jaw. “You have no idea what you've taken into your house.”

Serali went cold.

Daravan did not even glance at her. “We've heard better threats.”

“It wasn't a threat.”

Shadow gathered around Serali’s hands. “Then perhaps stop talking.”

The dagger came toward her one last time.

Straight for the inside of her wrist.

Serali reacted.

Shadow wrapped around the blade itself.

Stopped it less than an inch from her skin.

The leader pulled.

The shadow held.

For one heartbeat they stared at each other.

His expression changed.

Not anger.

Calculation.

Then— “Withdraw!”

Every remaining Lyehiran moved at once.

Purple-black smoke exploded across the square.

Serali coughed.

The leader ripped the dagger free of her shadow and vanished into it.

“Daravan!”

“I know!”

Serali threw shadow into the smoke.

Caught nothing.

A shimmer moved along the eastern route. A woman appeared for half a heartbeat, dark hair. One leg hitching strangely as she ran.

Then she threw something over her shoulder.

Glittering sand burst through the air.

Serali’s vision went white. She swore.

Daravan caught her arm before she walked directly into a broken lantern stand. “Do not chase.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You absolutely were.”

The woman flickered.

Gone.

Not smoke. Invisibility.

“East route!” Orran shouted.

Harrek’s voice answered from somewhere beyond the haze. “Hold the barricade!”

A palace guard ran after the shimmer.

Daravan roared: “NO PURSUIT BEYOND THE BARRICADES!”

The guard stopped. Barely.

Smoke rolled across the stones.

People screamed.

Someone shouted that another attacker was escaping north.

Serali turned.

A Lyehiran had one arm locked around a guard’s throat.

Knife beneath his jaw.

“Back!” the man shouted. “Back or he dies!”

Harrek stopped three paces away.

Blood still streaked one side of his face.

The hostage breathed too fast.

The knife pressed harder.

Serali lifted one hand.

The Lyehiran saw. “Don’t.”

She did.

Shadow slid along the stones.

Not toward him.

Behind.

Up.

Wrapped around the knife hand.

The man jerked.

The blade tore free.

The guard dropped.

So did three Watch officers.

They hit the agent together.

He disappeared beneath them.

“Alive!” Daravan shouted.

Harrek looked down at the man currently trying to bite one of his officers.

“No promises!”

“Harrek.”

“Fine!”

The guard collapsed to his knees, one hand pressed to his neck.

A healer ran toward him.

The smoke thinned.

Serali turned in a slow circle.

The fighting was ending.

Not ended.

Someone cried out near the fountain.

A Watch officer shouted for a healer.

A palace guard disarmed another Lyehiran near the western arch.

Then—

nothing.

No new blade.

No new spell.

No one trying to reach her.

The square seemed to realize it at the same time.

The sound changed.

Screaming remained.

Crying.

Orders.

The crackle of burning wood.

But not combat.

Daravan stood beside her.

Sword still raised.

“Count.”

Serali looked at him. “What?”

“Them.”

Of course.

She forced herself to look.

One prisoner with Pell.

Two behind the western Watch line.

One near the broken fountain.

The man Harrek had just taken.

Five alive.

Bodies.

One beside the western barricade.

One near Allandra’s position.

One half hidden beneath the wreckage of a festival stall.

Three dead.

Serali counted again.

Eight.

“There were twelve.”

“I know.”

Daravan turned slowly.

Smoke drifted through the lantern arches.

Harrek came toward them. His sword remained in his hand. “Five breathing in custody.”

“Three dead,” Daravan said.

Harrek’s jaw tightened. “Four missing.”

The eastern barricade.

The northern street.

The rooftops beyond the square.

Darkness between lanterns.

Somewhere out there, the leader still had the dagger.

Daravan lifted his voice. “Seal the square!”

The Watch moved.

“Every exit controlled! No one leaves without being checked!”

Harrek turned toward his officers. “Send word to the gates. Bridges and harbor too. Assume invisibility. Assume magical transit.”

Serali looked toward the eastern street.

Nothing.

Four had escaped.

And somewhere beyond the square, Avalusia was already closing its gates.

Chapter 175: Let Her Decide

For several seconds after the last blade fell, Serali could still hear fighting.

Steel striking steel.

Someone screaming.

Daravan shouting.

Except there was no steel now.

Not close.

Only the memory of it lodged behind her ears.

The square had become something else.

Healers running instead of soldiers.

Watch officers binding wrists.

Guards dragging broken stalls aside to clear paths.

People calling names into smoke.

Crying.

Orders.

The crackle of fire.

Above all of it, Serali’s canopy still hung over the lantern path.

She stared upward.

She had forgotten she was holding it.

That seemed concerning.

Her arms were shaking.

The shadows were not.

“Royal Mage.”

Daravan.

Serali lowered her eyes.

He was looking at her.

More specifically, at the torn fabric near her wrist.

“It didn’t touch me.”

His gaze moved to her neck.

“The needle?”

“Also did not touch me.”

“Shoulder?”

“Already injured.”

“That was not the question.”

“It remains attached.”

Daravan’s expression suggested this did not qualify as a medical assessment.

He opened his mouth.

“Captain.”

Harrek.

Daravan turned.

Harrek had made it perhaps six steps toward them before the ground appeared to shift beneath him.

He stopped.

Corrected.

Continued walking.

Blood had dried down one side of his face.

Daravan stared.

Harrek noticed.

“No.”

“I haven’t said anything.”

“You’re about to.”

“You need a healer.”

“I need six more officers on the north route.”

“You can have both.”

“I dislike both.”

Daravan pointed at the nearest healer.

“You. With him.”

Harrek looked offended.

The healer looked terrified.

Daravan did not care about either reaction.

“If he falls over, I want to know before he hits the ground.”

“I am standing here.”

“Temporarily.”

Harrek muttered something impolite and turned toward the western line.

The healer followed.

Daravan watched until she did.

Then movement near the demonstration platform caught his attention.

Lia had called for a stretcher.

Two apprentices hurried toward Marielle.

Daravan turned.

One step.

Only one.

Then Harrek shouted something from the western barricade.

Daravan stopped.

His eyes remained on Marielle for one heartbeat longer.

Then he turned back.

“Pell,” he called. “Prisoners searched separately. Clothing, jewelry, spell components, everything. Nobody touches anything magical bare-handed.”

Pell lifted one hand in acknowledgment.

Daravan moved away.

Serali looked toward Marielle.

Lia was cutting away more of her sleeve.

The amount of blood on the discarded fabric made Serali’s stomach turn.

Marielle herself appeared mostly offended.

Pale.

But offended.

That was reassuring.

Probably.

Serali crossed toward them.

Lia looked up immediately.

“If you are injured, wait.”

“I’m not.”

“You are limping.”

“I was limping before.”

“That does not improve the situation.”

Marielle looked up.

“Hello.”

Serali stared at her.

“That seems insufficient.”

“I wasn’t certain what else was expected.”

Lia pressed fresh cloth against Marielle’s arm.

Marielle’s mouth tightened.

The bleeding had slowed.

Serali could see that much.

Lia lifted the cloth carefully.

The edges of the cut had begun to draw together beneath a faint shimmer of healing magic.

Then a thin line of red appeared.

Lia stopped.

Blood welled again.

Not as quickly as before.

But enough.

Serali looked at Lia.

“What?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“You said you wanted an antidote kit.”

“I did.”

“So you think it was poison.”

“I think there was something on the blade.”

Marielle glanced at her arm.

“Those are different statements.”

“Yes.”

Lia pressed the cloth down again.

“Poison is possible. It would explain some of this.”

“Some?”

“The cut missed anything that should make it immediately dangerous.”

Marielle looked faintly pleased by this.

Lia continued before she could speak.

“You still bled longer than I expected. Healing starts to take and then—”

She looked at the cloth.

“Doesn’t.”

Serali’s stomach tightened.

“The dagger.”

“Yes.”

The same dagger that had spent the last minutes of the fight trying to reach Serali’s skin.

Lia saw something in her face.

“What?”

“He changed tactics.”

Marielle’s eyes sharpened.

“How?”

“He stopped trying to capture me.”

Lia went still.

Serali looked at the wound.

“He only tried to cut me.”

For once, Marielle had nothing to say.

Lia’s expression hardened.

“We’ll discuss that inside.”

“I can help here,” Marielle said.

“No.”

“I can walk.”

“No.”

“I know how many support structures were damaged.”

“Wonderful. You can tell me from a bed.”

Marielle frowned.

Lia pointed toward the stretcher.

“Do not make me recruit Pell.”

Marielle looked past her.

Pell was currently forcing a bound Lyehiran to sit down.

She considered.

“Fine.”

“Excellent.”

The apprentices helped her onto the stretcher.

Marielle looked deeply dissatisfied with horizontal transportation.

Serali stepped back as they lifted her.

“Serali.”

She looked down.

Marielle’s face had gone even paler against the stretcher.

“The canopy worked.”

Serali swallowed.

“Yes.”

“I told you.”

Of course.

Serali almost laughed.

“Go inside.”

Marielle closed her eyes.

“That was not a response.”

“It is the one you are getting.”

Lia started walking.

The stretcher moved with her.

Then they were gone into the palace route.

Serali watched until the crowd swallowed them.

“Serali.”

Not Daravan this time.

Allandra was coming from the family platform.

Everly walked between her and Lessa, one hand in each of theirs.

Hagen followed more slowly, with a palace healer trying unsuccessfully to convince him that walking while someone inspected his side was unnecessary.

He was ignoring her.

Naturally.

Allandra had already inspected Everly.

Serali knew because the child’s hair was disordered in the particular way that occurred when Allandra had run both hands over her head checking for injuries.

Everly had been crying.

Her painted suns were smeared.

She looked at Hagen.

Then at Lessa.

Then down.

“Uncle Hagen got hurt because of me.”

Hagen stopped. “No.”

Everly looked up. “The spell was coming at me.”

“The person who threw the spell hurt me.”

“But you got in front.”

“Yes.”

Everly’s lower lip trembled.

Hagen crouched.

Immediately regretted it if his expression was any indication.

He stayed there anyway. “Because I chose to.”

Everly sniffed.

Hagen reached out and wiped beneath one of her eyes.

“And I would choose it again.”

“But—”

“No.” His voice was gentler now. “You did not cast the spell. You did not make me stand there. I decided where I wanted to be.”

Everly stared at him.

Hagen smiled faintly. “Unfortunately for you, I am an adult and therefore allowed to make terrible decisions without consulting you.”

Lessa made a noise.

Hagen looked at her. “Not helping.”

“You called it terrible.”

“For rhetorical purposes.”

Everly almost smiled.

Almost.

Serali looked away.

Different words.

Same truth.

They’re hurting people because they chose to.

Because I chose to.

Choice went both directions.

That seemed obvious when someone else said it.

Less obvious inside her own head.

A small hand touched shadow.

Serali turned. The wall.

The one she had dropped from the canopy at the beginning of the attack. It was still there.

Thinner now.

Almost translucent.

But standing.

The lantern children had been gathered behind the palace line with their families.

The solemn girl was nearest. The same one who had told Serali her magic was pretty.

She reached out. Her fingertips disappeared slightly into the dark surface.

Her mother caught her shoulder.

The girl looked back. “I know.”

Then she looked at Serali. And smiled.

Serali could not breathe for a moment.

The wall had done what it was supposed to do.

The children were alive.

Daravan appeared beside her. “We need you inside.”

Serali looked toward the girl.

“Four of them are still out there,” he said.

“I remember.”

“You are still the target.”

“I also remember that.”

“Good. Then this should be a very short argument.”

Allandra had reached her now.

Her eyes went immediately to the torn sleeve. “Did he cut you?”

“No.”

Allandra caught Serali’s wrist anyway.

Her thumb passed carefully over unbroken skin.

Then her neck.

The place where the needle had nearly touched.

Her jaw tightened. “Anywhere else?”

“No.”

“Your shoulder?”

“Hurts.”

Allandra looked at Lia’s now-empty station. “Inside.”

Serali followed her gaze.

Past it.

Toward the eastern end of the lantern path.

The brazier.

Dark.

The ceremonial flame had never been lit.

The choir had fled the temple steps.

Verya’s oath remained unsworn.

The birds had never flown.

First Sun had stopped on the second line.

Allandra saw where she was looking. “No.”

Serali looked at her.

“We’re done.”

“No.”

Daravan closed his eyes. “Royal Mage.”

“No.”

“You have been attacked by twelve Lyehiran agents.”

“Yes.”

“Four remain unaccounted for.”

“Yes.”

“You were nearly abducted.”

“Yes.”

“Twice.”

“I lost count.”

“That does not help your argument.”

Allandra stepped closer. “Serali.”

The Queen was gone from her voice.

Almost.

“I am not asking you to prove anything.”

“I know.”

“No one here is.”

“I know.”

“Then we are finished.”

Serali looked around the square.

At broken lanterns.

Blood on stone.

At guards carrying wounded people toward the palace.

At the place where Marielle had been sitting.

At the shadow wall still standing between the children and the wreckage.

“They came here to take me.”

Allandra said nothing.

“They called it rescue.”

Daravan’s mouth tightened.

“They hurt people and told me that was my fault.”

Serali looked toward the street where the leader had disappeared.

“They tried to make this into proof that I belonged to them.”

Allandra’s expression changed.

“I don’t want them to have the ending.”

Silence.

Not the square.

The square was anything but silent.

Between them.

Hagen had stopped nearby.

The healer had finally succeeded in wrapping something around his side.

He looked toward the unlit brazier.

“If we stop now,” he said, “tomorrow’s story is that Lyehira interrupted First Sun.”

Allandra looked at him. “Hagen.”

“I am not telling her to continue.”

“Good.”

“I am saying what happens if she does.”

Serali waited.

Hagen’s expression had lost the last of its humor. “If she finishes, the story is that they tried to stop her oath.”

He looked at Serali. “And failed.”

Allandra folded her arms.

Hagen lifted one hand. “No one here gets to ask another thing from you tonight.”

Serali looked at him.

“Not the council. Not the crowd. Not Avalusia.”

His gaze shifted to Allandra. “Let her decide.”

Something in Allandra’s face tightened.

Not anger at Hagen.

Fear.

Serali knew that one.

Felt the edge of it against the bond partitions.

Allandra wanted her inside.

Behind stone. Behind wards. Behind every guard Avalusia possessed.

Serali understood. That did not change her answer.

“I want to finish.”

Allandra closed her eyes.

Only for a moment.

Then she turned to Daravan. “Can you secure it?”

Daravan looked deeply unhappy with the question. “Yes.”

Allandra waited.

He exhaled through his nose. “Inner path only. Nobody outside the cleared square. Watch on every approach. Plainclothes remain revealed. No uncontrolled movement in or out.”

“Harrek?”

Harrek had apparently heard his name from twenty paces away. “I can hold the perimeter.”

The healer beside him looked appalled that he was still speaking.

Daravan looked at Serali. “If I say move, you move.”

“Yes.”

“No argument.”

Serali hesitated.

“Serali.”

“Fine.”

Allandra’s eyebrows rose.

“Yes.”

“If I tell you to move,” Allandra said, “you move.”

Serali looked at her. “Yes.”

“Ceremony only.”

“Yes.”

“No additions.”

“I had not planned any.”

Hagen coughed.

Serali looked at him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Allandra ignored him.

Her eyes stayed on Serali. “You are certain.”

Not a question about tactics.

Not really.

Serali looked once more at the unlit brazier. At the lanterns. At the shadows still hanging overhead. At the people who had stayed.

“Yes.”

Allandra held her gaze. Then nodded. “Then finish.”