Page 170 of A Queen This Fierce and Deadly

“They’re almost here.”

Another large group of hybrids had arrived not long ago. They’d taken one look at the barricade, and their eyes had filled with dread. Several families had entered the pass at a run.

They would not die today.

I said the words over and over.

The little girl who had waved to me over her mother’sshoulder, too young to understand the danger she was in. She would not die today.

The group of young boys, lips trembling, who’d offered to stay and fight—only for Demos to crouch down and tell them gently that he needed such brave soldiers to guard the others on the way through the pass.

They would not die today.

The camp mother who’d insisted on cooking one last meal for as many soldiers as she could, before Tibris made her leave—her eyes filled with tears as she’d watched those soldiers get into position.

She would not die today.

My head whirled, and I was suddenly in Demos’s arms.

His mouth crashed down on mine, and I let out a choked sob, my hands clutching his shirt, pulling him close.

Someone called to him, and he pulled away, his gaze still on my face. My body ached at the loss of his warmth. “No stupid risks.”

“From you either.”

He nodded. His gaze swept over my face. And he tucked a strand of my hair behind one ear.

“Into position, Sin.” Demos turned, striding toward our meager front lines.

Screams sounded. One of Regner’s soldiers had encountered one of Herne’s traps.

Terror punched into me.

They were here.

29

Asinia

Most of Regner’s foot soldiers had traveled through the Normathe Mountains.

But there were still at least ten thousand soldiers marching on our camp.

The traps Herne and Tibris had set slowed Regner’s army down.

But most of the soldiers simply strode past those who had fallen, leaving them for their healers.

Our barricade gave us a scant amount of cover. We might not be sheltered in a keep or a castle, but we held the high ground, and the large boulders near the beginning of the pass gave our archers good spots to wait.

And wait, I did.

The moment the first Eprothan soldier’s boot crossed the invisible line I’d delineated in my head, I nocked my first arrow and shot him through the throat.

My shot was smooth, fast, almost effortless. It felt wrong to admire my new crossbow while the soldier bled his life away beneath us.

But I still gave it one quick, appreciative stroke.

These men were coming here to kill women and children. The sick and the old. I hardened myself and shot again. And again.

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