So the sun was high in the sky and well on its way toward the horizon when they marched from Jomsborg toward the enemy base.

Cade watched as they marched through the gates, newly repaired by the men. And to Marius’s credit, he left no men behind to guard it. This was real. If Cade could open the doors—they were going in, full force.

But what was full force? The men wore rusted armor, hanging from threadbare straps. Their footwear had been repaired so often they were more patch than sandals. And their spears, though sharp and bright, hung from rusted nails in their hafts, while the hafts of their gladiuses dangled unraveling strips of leather.

As for the legionaries, they were in no better condition. Every man showed signs of starvation—hollow cheeked and skinny as rakes, no better than Quintus had been when Cade had first met him.

Two hundred men who looked like they belonged in a hospital ward. Men who limped from long hours of marching, from wounds sustained in their recent battle.

But still they marched. Their eyes were sunken, but shone bright with life. Their scrawny chests still puffed with pride as their new leader surveyed them.

There was fight in them yet. Cade could only hope it was enough to defeat ten times their number, and away from home turf.

Soon enough, Cade joined the head of the column, walking alongside Marius and the carriage that carried the cannons, twenty men hauling on traces at its head. It had taken the same number to lift the largest, and the cannon’s hollow faces pointed ominously at their backs, preloaded with their charges and ready to fire at the touch of a flame.

“We will reach the enemy fort at nightfall,” Marius said, guessing Cade’s unspoken question as the sun neared the horizon.

Cade nodded slowly. He was bone tired, mentally and physically. His preparations and planning for their attempted breach had taken much of the afternoon, and the brief hours he had snatched had not made a dent in the bank of sleep he owed his body when all of this was over.

The march had been a silent one, and any attempts at conversation were silenced by Marius. Sound traveled far on the flat steppe of the Grays’ world.

It was only when the sun had nearly set that Marius ordered the men to halt and make camp, though no campfires were allowed. And beyond, in the darkening sky, Cade saw a smudge that was the enemy fort.

“Come,” Marius said, motioning at Cade. “We go alone. Less chance of being seen.”

Then he turned to his centurions—two in all. Atticus was nowhere to be seen, but Cade had seen him walking with the legionaries at the back, seemingly under guard, and his fine armor now adorned Marius’s body.

“In one hour, follow me,” Marius instructed his subordinates.

Amber flashed Cade a worried look, but he motioned that it was okay. He had to do the same to Quintus, waving him back down as the young legionary stood. The others seemed grateful for the rest, and Cade did not begrudge them for it.