Drakos Crovan’s neatly trimmed hairline and hawkish features were more suited to a courtier than an outlaw. He’d have been a sensation in the staged parades back in Tressia. The dashing young officer, striving for victory – which was what he’d been, before he’d embraced his heritage, and thrown in with the southwealders who’d been his grandparents’ neighbours. Revekah didn’t recognise the other man. A new recruit? Crovan had a knack for rousing the disaffected.

Crovan glanced up, a wary look in his sea-grey eyes. “Captain Halvor. Didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“Might be I’d say the same. Thought you’d gone south with wayfarers on your heels.”

“Changed my mind when the northwealders changed theirs.” Crovan ran a hand over his two-day stubble. “Abandoned the pursuit halfway to the border. We both know why.”

Revekah peered down at the map. Scribbled notes spoke to garrison estimates across the Grelyt Valley. “The Hadari?”

Crovan shared a brief glance with his companion and stabbed a finger down at the map. “That’s what I’m hearing. Council are already stripping the Trelszon border forts. Border raids are one thing, but they won’t hold against an army.”

Revekah snorted. “They’ve been crumbling for decades.”

She’d stood her first watch in one such fort, up at Celdon Pike. Seventeen years old and jumping at every shadow. It felt like a lifetime ago. It was a lifetime ago. And look at how little had changed for the Southshires . . .

Crovan grinned. “It’s only pride keeps them manned at all. Good for us. More room to operate.”

Revekah winced. “Until the Hadari come.”

“Maybe even then.”

Revekah lowered her creaking bones into an empty chair. “So tell me. How many did you lose?”

The grin bled from Crovan’s expression. “That’s none of your damn business.”

“Was it worth it?”

He sat back in his chair, fingers drumming against the table top. “It’s always worth it.”

“And what of the dead?”

“They knew the risks.”

“You had no right.”

“I had every right!” Crovan slammed his fist on the table. When he spoke again it was with a voice taut as a fiddle string. “They burned Vallora yesterday, did you know that?”

“I heard.”

She’d more than heard. She’d seen the column of smoke, and the monstrous silhouettes of kraikons towering over the crops. All from too far away to help.

“Fields were thick with blight, but the overseer saw only missed quotas. When old Geshra tried to explain, he was arrested. Vorn was there.”

The younger man scowled. “A fight broke out. Blood spilled. Then they sent in the kraikons. Some fought. Simarka got most of those who fled. A few of us got away. Holed up in Skazit Maze.”

“Not a good place to seek refuge,” said Revekah.