Sweat gathered around my palm the tighter I held the dagger. I fought for Stonegate tonight, when once my heart yearned to watch it fall.

No. I fought for a man I was forbidden to love. I fought for a brother who was not my blood. I fought for Emi, a friend I never expected. I fought for a prince with a good heart who might one day change this wretched fortress into something worthy of protection.

I slipped out of the front gates. Walls were stacked in Stav Guard, their dark tunics like stalks of scorched wheat all in a row, all willing to join the gods in Salur. Another horn blared in the night. I pressed my back to the wall when a heavy gate cranked free. From inside the bowels of a dark tower, rows of new Stav Guard marched forward.

My mouth went dry. These warriors bore crests of crossed seax blades, not the head of a wolf. Their hair was braided alike, no matter the thickness or shade—a ridge down the center of the skull with the sides shorn close to the scalp.

Their shoulders were too thick, too bulky. Some had jaws so square it appeared they had an extra set of teeth.

Berserkirs. These men—no less than a hundred—had been melded over and over, crafting soul bones to their bodies like bulky armor beneath the skin.

Their eyes were soulless, blackened. Tassels of colorful leather pinned to their tunics were symbols of their brutality, of how many lives they’d sent to Salur. They were far enough away I could not make out the numbers in full, but many of the Berserkir Stav wore their kill marks like a cloak across their shoulders.

Their heavy steps trampled across the bridges and cobbled roads until they reached the gates. I sprinted to the end of one bridge, leaning over the edge.

Along the outer gates, lines and lines of warriors—Myrdan and Jorvan alike—crashed swords and daggers against the bronze edges of a sea of invaders.

Ravagers. The crimson paint across their faces looked like they’d bathed in blood. Fara wolves howled and snapped at the ankles of the Stav, their tapered ears flicking to the whistles and commands from their masters.

A gate near the southern wall hung crooked on the hinges. Wood beams were tossed aside. Four Stav Guard were sprawled across the grass near the opening, dead.

That was their entry point.

From this vantage, I could make out the vibrant tunics and cloaks of Myrdan fighters tangled with Stav Guard. My head felt like it spun in delirium. So many angles, so much blood that the air was hot with the tang of it. I wanted to be everywhere, yet I could not move my feet.

“Lyra, what in the gods’ names are you doing here?” Kael’s sharp tone broke my stupor.