With the other sentinels on watch tonight and the remaining warriors ready to defend against the next attack, I had been sent away for rest. I didn’t fight it. I barely have the foresight to pull the pins from my hair before collapsing onto my bed.

I wake in fits and bursts, my heart racing as my mind tricks me into hearing sounds that aren’t there. Each time, I lie there, totally still, waiting for the droning to return and the roars of our defenses to sound in response.

But the only sound that greets me is that of the ocean below us, growing louder with each hour as the prince’s health slips away as quickly as a falling star. Last I saw the curly-haired boy, he was barely able to open his eyes, and coughing so much …

The memory erases any hopes of further sleep. When the bells toll, I count the hours—at least I got a full night’s rest.

I bathe quickly and redress in a new set of robes. I keep my hair back the way Rowan likes to have hers: a tight braid tied off at my shoulders, though it doesn’t have the same effect with my hair’s shorter length.

I head outside to survey the city and check for fresh damage. The sun rises early and fast, reminding me of the season. Is it really still summer? It feels like months have passed in the span of days. The citizens should still be recounting their festival memories, not hiding in boarded-up homes and trying to keep themselves and their children calm. At this hour, the only sounds are those of the forges. I fly there, landing in the street adjacent to the city’s most prominent weaponsmith.

I call out a greeting. The owner, a larger Leonodai with a grizzled beard and face smeared with sweat and soot, responds when he sees me. “Greetings, Sentinel.”

“Good morning,” I respond. “How goes the progress?”

“Good, my lady.” He wipes his hands on a nearby rag that was already so dirt-covered, it may have made his hands worse. “The bearking’s materials arrived by boat last night. The bearking’s princess herself delivered them.” He inclines to the far end of the forge, where a pair of figures in the moss-green colors of the bearkings are instructing two other smiths. “Two of their smiths came as well. Some of the work they insist on doing themselves, but it’s no matter. The shields they are making are unmatched, my lady.”

I try to hide my look of surprise. Freanna must have been swayed by her wiser kin. I send a silent thank-you to whoever of the bearkings got through her thick skull.

“Thank you for all your service,” I say earnestly. “It will not be forgotten.”

He bows his head. “Loyalty above all.”

“Loyalty above all.”