“Apparently there was a bit of a coup,” Cyte said. “Or at least a shift in government. Desland’s ruled by a merchant’s council, but Hamveltai interests had always held a lot of sway. Nobody seems willing to say exactly what happened, but those members of the council seem to have left town rather suddenly, and what was left didn’t have a lot of interest in continuing the fight.”

“Better to make money off us than try to fight,” Winter said. “Ashe-Katarion was the same way, until the Redeemers turned on us.”

“I don’t think that’s very likely here, sir,” Cyte said. “Most of the Deslandai are Sworn Church, but there’s always been a substantial Free Church minority, and they’re on relatively good terms. I don’t think there’s many who are eager to die for Elysium.”

“That’s something we have in common, then. So there hasn’t been much trouble?”

Cyte shook her head. “No, sir. Nothing significant.”

“A few incidents of . . . overexcited carousing,” Bobby said. “But Sevran and Abby have been keeping things under control.”

“Abby? What about Jane?”

Bobby looked embarrassed. “You’ll have to talk to her about that, sir.”

What the hell am I supposed to say to Jane, anyway? She’d blown up at her on the battlefield, in the heat of the moment, but ultimately she’d meant every word. I don’t care what she thinks of the Royals. You can’t leave fellow soldiers to fight on their own if you’ve got a choice. Just thinking about it made Winter feel angry, but that only made things worse. I can’t lose her. Not again.

The citadel was surrounded by a stone curtain wall, three stories high, enclosing a drill field and a stone keep along with various wooden buildings. The huge doors, solid oak planks banded with iron, stood open. By the rust on the hinges, Winter guessed they hadn’t been closed in decades. She was gratified to see sentries on the wall walk, though, Girls’ Own and Royals both.

Passing under the wall—the ceiling was full of holes, where medieval defenders in the gatehouse could have poured boiling oil on attackers who’d breached the first set of gates—they emerged into the courtyard. About half of it was taken up with tents; Winter guessed the citadel only had room for a few hundred. In the other half, several companies were drilling while a group of men in regulation uniforms inspected a cartload of crated goods. Soldiers were everywhere, maintaining gear, cleaning linens, or just sitting in the weak autumn sun.