Crovan wondered at the vehemence Vorn expressed for a woman he’d never met. He shrugged the thought away. After all, he was right. Drakos Crovan, the Wolf King, could save only the willing. If some allies perished to prove him right, then that was a price worth paying to save those who remained.

Calenne awoke from rich, shadow-laced dreams into the stuffy, greyish light of Viktor’s tent. As she pulled on Katya’s old leathers, she peered blearily at the high-backed chair. Viktor had insisted it would serve him perfectly well as a bed. Judging by the stack of neatly folded blankets, it had not done so.

She struck out for the open air. As she did, she spared a glance for her armour and cloak, but decided against them. The armour fitted well enough, but it was still a costume for a part she didn’t relish playing. It could wait.

She emerged onto a hillside dotted with tents and smouldering campfires. She was surrounded by the king’s blue uniforms and the patchwork raiment of citizenry roused to the fight.

To the north, the eaves of Davenwood – little more than shadows against darkness when Viktor had ended last night’s march – rippled in waves of brilliant green beneath the morning sun. And beyond that, smoke gathered against the clouds, a grim reminder of why she was there.

The scale of it took her breath away. The crowds in Eskavord had been intimidating enough. The sight of the swelling army made her giddy – not least because so many of them were there because of her. Which meant a great many of them would die because of her. As humbling – as horrifying – as that thought was, it was somehow exciting. Was this how her mother had felt before Zanya?

Belatedly, Calenne realised her slip. But there, amid the gathering ranks, it was hard not to feel kinship with the woman whose mantle she reluctantly wore.

“Sleep well?” Even without his cloak, Viktor was a towering shadow in the glorious day.

She nodded. “Better than I should. And you? I know you didn’t come back to the tent.”

“I slept by the fire. I thought you’d appreciate the privacy.”

Calenne laughed. Not at the kindness shown, for she knew the demands others might have made in Viktor’s position, but at the sombre, inevitable way in which he voiced it.

“We’re to be married, Viktor. If you snore like a bull, better I learn that now.”

He smiled, though she had the impression he did so to humour her, rather than out of mirth.

“What is it?”

He looped his arms behind his back. “Hadari outriders have been sighted west of Kreska. The bulk of their army won’t be far behind. I’d hoped to link up with Yanda’s forces before forcing battle. It seems we aren’t to be given that luxury.” He hesitated. “I think you should return to Eskavord.”

“And you?”