Twenty-five miles a day. That was faster than the Colonials had marched at their hardest in Khandar. A killing pace, even for veteran soldiers. Winter drew in a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

“I could catch the courier,” Cyte said, as though reading her commander’s thoughts. “Tell him we’re not going to make it.”

“Do you think we can do it?”

Cyte tilted her head, considering. “Some of us can. The wagons would never keep up, so we’ll have to leave them behind. That means carrying provisions on our backs, which makes it harder.” She shook her head. “We’ll get there, but I don’t know how many soldiers we’ll have left when we do. Anybody who gets hurt or drops out is going to get left behind. And we’ll probably be awfully hungry when we arrive.”

“We leave the road here.” Winter stabbed a finger at the map. “That’s not far from the river. We’ve been floating supplies upriver all this time, so some of them must still be in transit.”

“That’s a thought,” Cyte said. “Send riders ahead to flag down some of the barges and off-load enough to make a supply dump for us. It’ll help.”

“Do it,” Winter said. “Right away. Then start working out a marching schedule.”

“Yes, sir.” Cyte paused. “What about the celebration tonight?”

“Oh, damn.”

She’d almost forgotten. The Girls’ Own had become nearly mutinous over the fact that they weren’t allowed out into the city for recreation like the Royals, and so Winter had arranged to bring the city to them, so to speak. Wagons full of food and drink were waiting to be brought into the citadel at the start of the festivities, and all sorts of hopeful vendors were lining up to hawk their wares. The Royals, grumbling, had been ordered to abstain and help keep order.

“It’ll have to go ahead,” she said after a moment’s thought. “There’d be a riot if we tried to stop it now. But pass the news that we’re marching in the morning, and tell the Royals to pull out anyone who looks like they’ll be too drunk to walk tomorrow. We’ll wrap up early, too.”

“I’m on it,” Cyte said. “I’ll have our supplies waiting at the gate in the morning. That just leaves—”

Winter sighed. “Jane. I know.”

“We could leave them behind.” Cyte smiled, to show it was a joke, and Winter forced a faint smile in return.

“Abby would never forgive me.” I would never forgive myself. “I’ll go and talk to her now. Maybe they haven’t had time to get drunk yet.”

*   *   *