Unbidden, Raisa’s thoughts turned to Han Alister, to the question that had plagued her since her coronation—since that desperate dance on Hanalea: Where do we go from here?

Just stop it. You can’t think about that now. You need to focus, especially today.

She halted, midway down the parade ground, fixing her eyes on the field before her. Swallows pivoted overhead, and red-winged blackbirds clung to seed heads until they were flushed by the Highlander Army of the Fells as it lined up in front of her.

Except most were not Highlanders.

Still too many stripers, Raisa thought, her gaze sweeping over salvos of soldiers in their varied uniforms. Most wore the distinctive striped scarves that said they were mercenaries: a company from Delphi in dun-colored wool, Ardenine infantry in scarlet jackets, cavalry from Bruinswallow in sand-colored battle tunics.

And, here and there, a splash of forest green and brown, the native-borns.

“What progress has been made in replacing the stripers?” Raisa asked General Klemath. “How many salvos have been swapped out?”

“I’m working on it, Your Majesty,” Klemath said. “You must understand, it’s not just the line soldiers that must be replaced. The officers come from the down-realms also. It takes time to recruit and train.”

“How many?” Raisa demanded.

“One, Your Majesty.” Klemath stared out at his army, not meeting her eyes, his jaw clenched stubbornly. “There are several others under way, though I fear we will lose battle-readiness in the process.” His tone made it clear that he thought this was a mad scheme launched on impulse by a young and inexperienced queen who should stick to going to parties.

Raisa shifted her gaze to Amon, Averill, and Speaker Jemson, who stood just behind Klemath. They nodded slightly.

“That’s not acceptable,” Raisa said. “I had expected much more progress by now.”

“I cannot produce qualified officers with a snap of my fingers,” Klemath said, snapping to demonstrate.

“Has it occurred to you that you can be replaced with a snap of my fingers?” Raisa retorted, snapping her fingers under the general’s nose.

Klemath stiffened. Still staring straight ahead, he said, “That wouldn’t be wise.”

“Meaning?” Raisa’s voice was as cold as the Dyrnnewater. “Is that a threat, General?”

“Meaning that now is not the time to be making yet another transition, Your Majesty,” Klemath said, seeming to recall to whom he spoke. “While things are so unsettled in the south. Too much change all at once is difficult.”

Don’t lose your temper don’t lose your temper don’t don’t don’t…“Nobody said it was going to be easy,” Raisa said. “But I know you will make every effort to move things along now that you know my mind. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Klemath said, nodding. Still not smiling. “Of course.”

And with that, Raisa dismissed him and his troops.