Even without the sen’gai of his clan, there was no mistaking what Nyal was. He had long, dark hair and fine ’faie features, and his lively hazel-green eyes were unlike any Skalan’s. He was a brave man, to be here in the midst of a war that was not his own. Harshly as the Plenimaran marines treated captured female soldiers, they treated ’faie far worse. Those they didn’t eventually kill they shipped back to their homeland as slaves. She’d heard stories of ’faie falling on their own swords rather than be captured. It made it all the harder that she and Nyal were often apart from each other in the field; as her husband, it was against regulations for him to serve under her, so instead he was a scout for the whole troop, often working with Danos or directly for Klia. It had been nearly a week since she’d seen him.

He smiled, hazel eyes tilting up at the corners as she came in; she could tell he was equally relieved to see her. Nyal had no official rank beyond scout, but in the field he took his orders directly from Klia. It had taken them both time to get used to that. In the winter they lived as husband and wife, but here in the field they were hardly more than fellow soldiers most of the time.

Beka saluted Klia, pressing her fist to the front of her battle-stained tabard.

“Good morning, Captain,” said Klia. “Come and join us. You must be starving.”

“Thank you, Commander.” Beka pulled up a stool and gratefully broke her night’s fast. Even salted, the meat smelled a bit high, but she was too hungry to care.

Klia looked as if she hadn’t slept in days. Months of steady battle had sapped some of her beauty. Her face was sun-browned and haggard under the dark widow’s peak, and her linen shirt hung more loosely on her than it had when they resumed the war in the spring. Myrhini, the older of the two, didn’t look any better. Beka supposed she didn’t, either.

“What do you have to report?” asked Klia.

“I estimate a force of at least three hundred, Commander. Half of it cavalry and the rest foot.”

Klia raised an eyebrow at that. “You estimate? Don’t tell me you went out yourself again?”

“It was my turn, Commander,” Beka replied. It was a matter of pride to endure the same dangers as her troop. In return, her riders had followed her through fire and hell. Klia wasn’t one to talk, either. She’d done the same as she came up through the officers’ ranks, and was equally respected by those who served under her.