Page 45 of Kingdom of Ash

At his side, Yrene wrapped her fingers around Chaol’s and squeezed. He hadn’t realized how cold, how trembling, his hand had become until her warmth seeped into him.

Because the intended target of that enemy army now marching to the northwest …

Anielle.

“Your father has not kneeled to Morath,” Hasar mused, flicking her heavy braid over the shoulder of her embroidered sky-blue jacket. “It must make Erawan nervous enough that he saw the need to send such an army to crush it.”

Chaol swallowed the dryness in his mouth. “But Erawan has already sacked Rifthold,” he said, pointing to the capital on the coast, then dragging a finger inland along the Avery. “He controls most of the river. Why not send the witches to sack it instead? Why not sail right up the Avery? Why take an army so far to the coast, then all the way back?”

“To clear the way for the rest,” Yrene said, her mouth a tight line. “To instill as much terror as possible.”

Chaol blew out a breath. “In Terrasen. Erawan wants Terrasen to know what’s coming, that he can take his time and expend forces on destroying swaths of land.”

“Does Anielle have an army?” Sartaq asked, the prince’s dark eyes steady.

Chaol straightened, hand balling into a fist, as if it could keep the dread pooling in his stomach at bay. Hurry—they had to hurry. “Not one able to take on ten thousand soldiers. The keep might survive a siege, but not indefinitely, and it wouldn’t be able to fit the city’s population.” Only his father’s chosen few.

Silence fell, and Chaol knew they were waiting for him to speak, to voice the question himself. He hated every word that came out of his mouth. “Is it worth it to launch our troops here and march to save Anielle?”

Because they couldn’t risk the Avery, not when Rifthold sat at its entrance. They’d have to find a place to land and march inland. Across the plains, over the Acanthus, into Oakwald, and to the very foothills of the White Fangs. Days of travel on horseback—the gods knew how long an army would take.

“There might not be an Anielle left by the time we get there,” Hasar said with more gentleness than the sharp-faced princess usually bothered with. Enough so that Chaol reined in the urge to tell them that was precisely why they had to movenow. “If the southern half of Adarlan is beyond help, then we might land near Meah.” She pointed to the city in the north of the kingdom. “March near the border, and set ourselves up to intercept them.”

“Or we could go directly to Terrasen, and sail up the Florine to Orynth’s doorstep,” Sartaq mused.

“We don’t know what we’ll find in either,” Nesryn countered quietly, her cool voice filling the room. A different woman in some ways than the one who’d gone with Chaol to the southern continent. “Meah could be overrun, and Terrasen might be facing its own siege. The days it would take for our scouts to fly northward would waste vital time—if they return at all.”

Chaol drew in a deep breath, willing his heart to calm. He hadn’t the faintest idea where Dorian might be, if he’d gone with Aelin to Terrasen. The soldiers Nesryn and Sartaq had interrogated had not known. What would his friend have chosen? He could almost hear Dorian yelling at him for even hesitating, hear him ordering Chaol to stop wondering where he’d gone and hurry to Anielle.

“Anielle lies near the Ferian Gap,” Hasar said, “which is also controlled by Morath, and is another outpost for the Ironteeth and their wyverns. By bringing our forces so far inland, we risk not only the army marching for Anielle, but finding a host of witches at our backs.” She metChaol’s gaze, her face as unflinching as her words. “Would saving the city gain us anything?”

“It is his home,” Yrene said quietly, but not weakly, her chin refusing to dip even an inch in the royals’ presence. “I’d think that would be all the proof we need to defend it.”

Chaol tightened his hand around hers in silent thanks. Dorian would have said the same.

Sartaq studied the map once more. “The Avery splits near Anielle,” he murmured, running a finger along it. “It veers southward to the Silver Lake and Anielle, and then the other branch runs northward, past the Ferian Gap, skirting along the Ruhnns and up to nearly the border of Terrasen itself.”

“I can read a map, brother,” Hasar growled.

Sartaq ignored her, his eyes meeting Chaol’s once more. A spark lit their steady depths. “We avoid the Avery until Anielle. March inland. And when the city is secure, we begin a campaign northward, along the Avery.”

Nesryn pushed off the wall to prowl to the prince’s side. “Into the Ferian Gap? We’d be facing the witches, then.”

Sartaq gave her a half grin. “Then it’s a good thing we have ruks.”

Hasar leaned over the map. “If we secure the Ferian Gap, then we could possibly march all the way to Terrasen, taking the inland route.” She shook her head. “But what of the armada?”

“They wait to intercept Kashin’s fleet,” Sartaq said. “We take the soldiers, the Darghan cavalry, the ruks, and they wait for the rest of the army to arrive and tell them to meet us here.”

Hope stirred in Chaol’s chest.

“But that still leaves us at least a week behind the army marching for Anielle,” Nesryn said.

Truth—they’d never catch up to them in time. Any delay could cost untold lives. “They need to be warned,” Chaol said. “Anielle must be warned, and given time to prepare.”

Sartaq nodded. “I can be there in a few days’ flight.”

“No,” Chaol said, and Yrene lifted a brow. “If you can spare me a ruk and a rider, I’ll go myself. Stay here, and ready the ruks to fly. Tomorrow, if possible. A day or two at most.” He gestured to Hasar. “Dock the ships and lead the troops inland, as swiftly as they can march.”

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