Page 341 of Kingdom of Ash

Ansel went on, “I’ll honor the old borders of the Witch Kingdom, but keep the rest.” The queen rose, taking Manon’s bread with her. “Just something to consider, should the opportunity arise.” Then she was gone, swaggering off to her own cluster of remaining soldiers.

Manon hadn’t stared after her, but the words, the offer, had lingered.

To share the land, reclaim what they’d had but not the entirety of the Wastes …Bring our people home, Manon.

The words had not stopped echoing in her ears.

“You could stay off the battlefield today, too,” Petrah Blueblood now said, a hand on her mount’s flank. “Use the day to help the others. And rest.”

Manon stared at her.

Even with two Matrons dead, Iskra with them, and no sign of Petrah’s mother, the Ironteeth had managed to remain organized. To keep Manon, Petrah, and the Crochans busy.

Every day, fewer and fewer walked off the battlefield.

“No one else rests,” Manon said coldly.

“Everyone else manages to sleep, though,” Petrah said. When Manon held the witch’s gaze, Petrah said unblinkingly, “You think I do not see you, lying awake all night?”

“I do not need to rest.”

“Exhaustion can be as deadly as any weapon. Rest today, then rejoin us tomorrow.”

Manon bared her teeth. “The last I looked,youwere not in charge.”

Petrah didn’t so much as lower her head. “Fight, then, if that is what you wish. But consider that many lives depend on you, and if you fall because you are so tired that you become sloppy, they willallsuffer for it.”

It was sage advice. Sound advice.

Yet Manon gazed out over the battlefield, the sea of darkness just becoming visible. In an hour or so, the bone drums would beat again, and the screaming din of war would renew.

She could not stop. Would not stop.

“I am not resting.” Manon turned to seek out Bronwen in the Crochans’ quarters. She, at least, would not have such ridiculous notions. Even if Manon knew Glennis would side with Petrah.

Petrah sighed, the sound grating down Manon’s spine. “Then I shall see you on the battlefield.”

The roar and boom of war had become a distant buzz in Evangeline’s ears by midday. Even with the frigid wind, sweat ran down her back beneath her heavy layers of clothes as she made yet another sprint up the battlement stairs, message in hand. Darrow and the other old lords stood asthey had these past two weeks: along the castle’s walls, monitoring the battle beyond the city.

The message she’d received, straight from a Crochan who had landed so briefly that her feet had hardly touched the ground, had come from Bronwen.

Rare, Evangeline had learned, for either the Ironteeth or the Crochans to report anything to the humans. That the Crochan soldier had foundher, had known who she was … It was pride, more than fear, that had Evangeline running up the stairs, then across the battlements to Lord Darrow.

Lord Darrow, Murtaugh at his side, had already stretched out a hand by the time Evangeline slid to a stop.

“Careful,” Murtaugh warned her. “The ice can be treacherous.”

Evangeline nodded, though she fully planned to ignore him. Even if she’d taken a spill down the stairs yesterday that thankfully no one had witnessed. Especially Lysandra. If she’d glimpsed the bruise that now bloomed over Evangeline’s leg, the matching one on her forearm, she’d have locked her in the tower.

Lord Darrow read the message and frowned toward the city. “Bronwen reports they’ve spotted Morath hauling a siege tower to the western wall. It will reach us in an hour or two.”

Evangeline looked past the chaos on the city walls, where Aedion and Ren and the Bane fought so valiantly, out beneath the melee in the skies, where witches fought witches and Lysandra flew in wyvern form.

Sure enough, a massive shape was lumbering toward them.

Evangeline’s stomach dropped to her feet. “Is—is it one of those witch towers?”

“A siege tower is different,” Darrow said with his usual gruffness. “Thank the gods.”

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