“Excellent.” Janus glanced at the sun, which was approaching the midpoint of its low sweep through the autumn sky. “We must use what daylight remains to us. Colonel Warus is facing lighter opposition, but the tight terrain is slowing his progress. Colonel Stokes is just beginning his attack. For the moment, your advance appears to promise the quickest results.” He pointed, past the barricade toward the north end of the square. “Keep moving. Your objective is the near end of Grand Span. I will direct forces from the reserve to follow you, including several heavy batteries; once you have the foot of the bridge in hand, we’ll need artillery to suppress any guns the Patriots may have covering the Span before we can advance. I’ll instruct the commanders to follow your orders as to dispositions.”

“Sir!” Winter saluted. Janus had just put her in command of perhaps a quarter of the Army of the East. “Thank you, sir.”

“Be careful, Colonel,” Janus said. “The enemy have had weeks to prepare this ground. But make haste as best you can. If we are still engaged when darkness falls, the results could be . . . messy.”

Winter pictured scared, confused men firing at one another in the gloom, and nodded emphatically. She straightened up and offered a formal salute. “We’ll get there, sir!”

Chapter Twenty-five

MARCUS

“I should have known better,” Sothe said, flipping open a black-lacquered chest and unwrapping a bundle tied with black silken cord. “I should have known this would happen.”

“I’m sorry,” Marcus said again. “I tried—”

“I don’t blame you,” Sothe said. “I am well acquainted with the princess’—that is, the queen’s—habit of running foolish risks. She should never have been there in the first place.”

“I shouldn’t have taken her.”

“I sincerely doubt she gave you a choice.”

Sothe picked up a long, thin blade, tested the edge with a finger, then slipped it into a sheath. She was wearing close-fitting blacks, leather and rough silk, evidently made specifically for her purposes. They included a slightly preposterous number of sheaths, pockets, and loops for a variety of weapons, which Sothe produced one by one from the black chest and slotted into place. Marcus was surprised she could still stand under the weight of them all.

“You’re the one who planned this,” Marcus said. “You can’t back out of it now.”

“Plans change,” Sothe said. “Rescuing Raesinia is more important.”

“More important than keeping the Docks from burning down and thousands of soldiers from burning alive?”

“Yes,” Sothe said. “If she’s taken to Elysium—”

“You know what she would want you to do.”

Sothe slammed her final dagger into place and stood up. Her expression was nearly as calm as always, but not quite, and Marcus got the faintest hint of strong emotion in her voice.

“What she wants is not the issue,” Sothe said. “Protecting Raesinia from herself has always been among my primary duties.”