Page 186 of Mother of Death and Dawn

“We got some interesting intelligence recently,” Filias said. “From slaves working in Nura’s Threllian territory. She had traveled to Threll, but she’s keeping it very quiet. Apparently, she has some secretive meetings set up with Threllian Lords. No one is supposed to know.” He gave a half-smile. “Slaves are good at not existing, though. Hear all sorts of things we aren’t supposed to.”

My brow knitted. Nura? Nura, in Threll? She had been getting hit from all directions by the Threllians, on behalf of their alliance with the Fey. Perhaps the Threllian Lords, enterprising as they were, were beginning to consider reshuffling their loyalties.

The thought of Nura having the manpower and brutality of the Lords on her side made me uneasy. But the idea that Tisaanah might be turned over to Nura—that Tisaanah might get locked up in Ilyzath’s torturous walls or strapped to Nura’s laboratory tables—downrightterrifiedme.

“All the more reason to get her out right away,” Serel said. “We can leave immediately. Me, Filias, some of our best fighters—we can get her out of therefast.”

“No,” I said. “We do more than that.”

Serel had already made it halfway to the door. Now all three of them looked at me like I had lost my mind.

“I don’t understand,” Riasha said. “Isn’t that why you’re here? For backup?”

“Yes. I…” Ascended above, I had a whole new appreciation for how Tisaanah must have felt, trying to stumble through such important conversations with a language barrier this wide. “We can stop them.Stop the Zorokovs foralways.”

Filias said, understandably, “I don’t know what that means.”

Brayan stepped in. “We have an opening to make a big move against Threllian Lords.” He opened his hands up, as if to demonstrate the scale. “A big move that will make a big victory. The Zorokovs are a strong house, and small many remain after the Mikovs fell. If we end them now, we can end the Threllian empire.”

His Thereni was marginally better than mine, and judging by the shocked expressions on their faces, it got the point across. Of the three of them, Serel paled the most. He turned to Filias and spoke in low, very fast Thereni, then turned back to us.

“How can we possibly win in an all-out offensive against the Zorokovs? I barely survived Malakhan. I saw what they can do, especially with the help of the Fey. Nothing can stop me from getting Tisaanah out of there, but going againstallof them? I don’t know if we can survive that.”

Pity twinged in my chest for Serel. I recognized the undercurrent in his voice. A part of him was still in Malakahn, thinking he would die there. I would not wish a siege on anyone. They did something to a person, and those kinds of marks don’t fade fast.

I wouldn’t tell him he was wrong—he wasn’t. I wouldn’t try to push him, because no one should be pushed onto a battlefield.

Instead I only told him the truth.

“I want promise you,” I said. “I want promise for a win. I cannot. But we have…” I touched the pouch at my hip and struggled to find a Thereni word that could describe this. “…strength.Magic.” I used the Aran word. “We have a chance right now. Maybe we do not get one again.”

Serel looked uneasy and sank back down into his seat. Filias rose and stood behind him, his hands resting on Serel’s shoulders, one thumb circling in a barely-there caress.

“I won’t ask you for promises,” he said to me, “but do you really think we can do this?”

What a difficult question. I had a couple of decade’s worth of finely curated pessimism to cut through before I answered.

“Yes,” I said, at last. “I do.”

Even if it made me an idiot.

“And more important,” I added, “is Tisaanah believes it. You know she does.”

The corners of Filias’s mouth tightened in a wry smirk. “Oh, I know.”

He and Serel exchanged a long look, one that seemed like it was having an unspoken conversation.

“Fuck it,” Filias said. “I think we should do it. We didn’t get this far by being cautious. If we were measuring ourselves by the odds, I would still be lugging Esmaris Mikov’s grain around all day. We have exceeded their expectations again and again. Let’s do it one more time.”

Serel still looked nervous. Filias peered down at him, gently tipping Serel’s chin back to meet his eyes.

“Don’t you want to make those bastards bleed, Serel?”

He said it quietly, meant only for one, yet the words hung thick in the air. Serel’s throat bobbed. He rose and turned to me.

“Fine,” he said, at last. “Let’s do it.”

CHAPTERSEVENTY

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