Kargan swept his gaze over the area, taking it all in. Everywhere soldiers were lying on the ground, moaning as their wounds seeped red blood onto the sand. He remembered hearing reports that the clans from the desert were massing, but they’d never posed much of a threat.

When he turned back to the general, his bewilderment had shifted to anger. ‘Explain.’

‘The city . . . Malakai’s fallen . . . It’s no longer ours.’

Kargan had a sudden thought. ‘My cousin, Agathon.’ He scanned the area again. ‘Where is he?’

‘I’m . . . I am sorry, Great King. He fought on the walls . . . fought bravely . . . but he was killed in the battle. I saw it myself, and my men will confirm it. Their . . . leader, a tall warrior with a braided beard, cut him in half with a single blow.’

Kargan looked away. He’d always liked his cousin. Agathon was never much of a warrior, but he’d given his life for Ilea.

He struggled to make sense of it. ‘Take care of your men. Then, you and I, General, we need to talk.’

Once more in his throne room, Kargan sipped red wine from a goblet, barely tasting it. He stood near the map, staring up at it and frowning. His eyes roved over the tapestry, his dark glare fixated on the distant west.

Imakale was the farthest dominion from Ilea. It was a dry, dusty land, home to savage tribesmen. But despite its inhospitable terrain, the capital, Malakai, was one of Kargan’s most important cities. Gold, slaves, ivory, and soft pelts from the great cats traveled to Malakai in long caravans, to be shipped to Lamara and sold to the city’s traders. Malakai was the only place in the Ilean Empire to have a port on the Aleuthean Sea. The city was his gateway to the south, and the resources of the Salesian continent’s inner heart.

Kargan took another mouthful of red wine as he explored land routes and checked supply lines, reminding himself where his armies were presently stationed.

Hearing footsteps, he glanced up as a palace guard entered and bowed. ‘General Dhuma is here, Great King.’

‘Good,’ Kargan grunted. ‘Send him in.’

‘At once, Great King.’

Kargan turned to Javid, standing nearby. ‘You think I should let him live?’

‘I think you should hear his story.’

Boot heels rang on the hard stone of the palace floor and Kargan looked toward the arched entrance as General Dhuma entered. He’d washed his face and hands, but his jaw was unshaven and he still wore his armor. Reaching Kargan, he came to a halt, standing tall as he gave his king a shaky military salute.

When Kargan didn’t respond, the general glanced at Javid and then back at Kargan. Javid didn’t make any movement, his expression as stony as ever, but the general’s face paled.