Valyn cut him off with a raised hand. He could hear the various members of his Wing sleeping—Talal’s light snore, Gwenna’s constant shifting—he could hear the lisp of the wind over the stone, even the rumble and hiss of the waterfall as it plunged off the cliff a few hundred paces to the north. But there was something more, something else. He closed his eyes, straining for the sound. It was hard to hear past his own pulse thudding in his ears, and for a moment he thought he’d imagined it. Then it came again—a soft scuff of fabric over stone. Someone outside the window, someone climbing, quieter than the wind.

Without thinking, Valyn took Kaden by the shoulder, hauling him back into the room while putting his own body between his brother and the gaping windows. Climbing meant Kettral, and though he had no idea how they’d managed to track him through the mountains, a part of him had been prepared for this moment. He slid a blade from the sheath over his shoulder as he pushed Kaden deeper into the room, offering up a brief thanks to Hull that his brother had the good sense to move with him, to remain silent.

The scuffing was gone, but there was a strange smell on the air, the faintest hint of smoke. Not woodsmoke, not a hearth or campfire. Woodsmoke didn’t taste like that, didn’t sting the nasal passage in quite the same way. This was a different smell, more dangerous, one familiar from a thousand training missions. . . .

“Cover up,” Valyn shouted, shattering the night’s quiet. “Explosives incoming.”

Even as he said the words, he was dragging Kaden to the floor, then throwing his own body on top as he covered his ears with his hands. He couldn’t know what sort of munitions their attackers were lighting, but if the explosion didn’t kill them all, the first moments after would prove crucial. He wanted to be able to hear, to see. Kaden went completely still beneath him, and Valyn shifted to shield as much of his brother as possible. Something clattered to the floor behind them. He squeezed his eyes shut just before the world went white, opening them only when the initial elemental fury had passed, subsiding into a more prosaic mess of shouts and screams.

They were alive. He’d felt the blast, but no shrapnel had ripped through his flesh. He wasn’t on fire. That meant they were using smokers. Smokers and flashbangs. So they’re not trying to kill us, at least not yet. On the other hand, it wasn’t looking much like a diplomatic mission. The whole point of smokers and flashbangs was to force the foe into panic and error. Which meant the first step was not to panic, not to rush. There was time. Not much, but time.

Slowly, Valyn told himself silently. Slowly.