“So that uproar wasn’t Devren coming for us,” her father grunted. He was pale beneath his wounds, his breathing shallower than she cared for.

“It seems not.” Melanna had hoped that Ashana might relent and send the Huntsman for her. But no. This mess was of ephemeral make. It was for ephemerals to resolve.

“A pity. I’d have preferred to die with a sword in my hand.”

“I’ll find you one.” She shivered and drew her cloak tighter. “I promise.”

Not that she knew how such an oath was to be kept.

The soft rumble of her father’s laughter broke off in a coughing fit. Blood spotted the back of his hand. He wiped it away on his fur. Melanna pretended she hadn’t seen.

“This wasn’t your fault,” he said. “All war is a gamble. Had the Tressians threatened a son, I’d have laid down my sword as readily. But I imagine of no son serving his father more faithfully than you have me.”

Pride fought melancholy for purchase on Melanna’s soul. Fought, and lost.

Her father shivered and drew deeper into the cramped lean-to. “I’ve instructed Aedrun to make parley. If there is trade to be made, you’ll go free.”

“I spoke with the Duke of Eskavord while you slept,” she said. “The Tressians want nothing from us.”

“Nothing?”

Her cheek twitched at twin memories of rejection and admonition. “Nothing at all.”

“Then we must put our faith in Devren,” her father grunted. “He’s loyal.”

He was indeed, Melanna allowed, but he was also cautious. She was about to say as much when a chorus of alarm broke out beyond the walls.

Her father straightened. “What is that?”

Melanna frowned. “I don’t know.” She strained her ears. “They’re saying something’s out of contr—”

A hollow boom split the air. Halfway to the gate, the palisade wall shuddered. Another strike followed hard on its heels. Then a third. And a fourth.

Across the compound, men staggered to their feet. Some scrambled away. Others jabbed wary fingers at the wall. Cries of consternation rang out.

A section of wall fell inwards. Rain spattered off a sleek, bronze hide. Blue and white paint gleamed dully above a feline maw.

“Defend the prince!” bellowed Aedrun.

A ring of bodies pressed around Melanna and her father as more of the wall toppled inwards. They crowded so close she could barely breathe. She clawed at Aedrun’s shoulder.

“Let me see!”

“Savim . . .”

Think like an empress. Behave as one. “Do as I command, warleader!”

His cheek twitched. “Yes, savim.”

Aedrun drew hesitantly aside. Melanna stepped into the gap. A dozen simarka sat at perfect attention directly ahead. Not a limb moved, nor a tail twitched. All bore stripes of blue paint across their eyes and muzzles.