The identity of Nemesis was also known for a fact, since he’d ripped his helmet off during that historic raid, and had publicly backed the Caronese emperor in this insane war. But like Darling, Nemesis came with his own army and was completely untouchable.

The rest of their friends were not so fortunate.

She glanced up at the commander, who was so angry as he watched the playback that it was a miracle steam really didn’t roll out of his ears.

Or his nose, for that matter.

Cursing, he paced the room around her, making her even more nervous that he might use her as a scapegoat for the men he couldn’t touch. He wore his brown hair long and braided down his back – a holdover from the days when he’d been one of the top League assassins, before he’d executed his predecessor and had claimed his place as head badass.

Kyr narrowed his left, silvery blue eye on her. “Pay attention and note the taller of the two men.”

It was hard not to notice the ferocious warrior he spoke of. He dwarfed the man he was with by a good eight inches. For that matter, he towered over everyone except Nemesis, who was only two to three inches shorter. But Nemesis was only about half the man’s muscle mass.

She sucked her breath in sharply. That warrior was the biggest man Sumi had ever laid eyes on.

It was terrifying, really. Especially the way he expertly cut through the highly trained League soldiers as if they were mannequins. There was a brutal grace to the way he fought. He showed no hesitation or mercy as he literally plowed his way through her compadres and freed the Caronese political prisoners. The warrior didn’t even flinch when he was shot or stabbed. The wounds only made him fight harder. More determined.

Deadlier.

Damn.

A furious tic worked in Commander Zemin’s jaw as he watched over her shoulder. “I know that hulking monster is Dancer Hauk. I know it. I can tell by the way the mutant bastard moves. There aren’t that many beings of his size. Period. Not even among Andarions. And no one else that faggot emperor would trust at his back. Not like that.”

But the commander had no real proof. Only his gut feeling and the obvious, condemning size of the Andarion male.

He glared at her. “I want you to bring me the evidence I need to convict Hauk and issue the warrant for his execution. If I can’t have Cruel’s head, I want that of his best friend and main protector. Understood?”

Evidence that would have to be beyond contestation. Dancer Hauk was the last of a very long and prestigious line of military heroes. A line the Andarion people would die to protect from extinction. In fact, it’d been his direct ancestor who had founded The League centuries ago and served as its first prime commander. Hauk’s family had literally written the military laws that governed all of them.