Page 87 of A Queen This Fierce and Deadly

“What kind of choice?” Sometimes it felt as if my days were made up of nothing but choices. And each of those choices had brutal, often immediate, consequences.

“Vicer. At this point, we haven’t heard anything from him. The last time Madinia saw him…” His gaze flicked to her.

Madinia nodded, her expression blank. “He left to fight the iron guards. Alone.”

My eyes stung. “You believe he’s dead.”

“We need to assume he’s dead until we learn otherwise,” Demos said. “Vicer is smart, and he knows that area of Eprotha well. There’s a chance he’s still alive, wounded, or busy helping other hybrids get to safety. But we can’t rely on him until we know that’s the case.”

I forced myself to pretend Vicer was just another person. Not someone I knew. Someone who’d helped save hybrid lives for years.

If we were to assume Vicer was dead, then we would need to move forward without him. But for the hybrids we were attempting to save, Vicer was the person many of them knew or, at least, had heard of. They knew he had been fighting for them in the city for all those years, and his contacts stretched throughout Gromalia and Eprotha.

“Give me your suggestions for people whom his contacts would trust, and if we haven’t heard anything from him three days from now, we will choose someone to…”

I couldn’t say the wordreplace. Next to me, Lorian wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Someone totemporarily fulfill his duties until we learn more,” he said.

I glanced at him. It was clear he assumed Vicer was dead. But he was being very careful to spare me from that assumption.

Tibris cleared his throat. “Where do you want me to go, Pris?”

I’d already thought about this. “I want you to go to the pass. The hybrids who have already been fleeing toward the camp… I know Vicer said they have their own healers, but as soon as we have everything in place, we will be sending as many hybrids as we can off this continent. Many of them will need healing.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, and I knew what he was thinking. That I was sending him away to keep him safe. Because he was human.

I shook my head at him. “There’s another reason. I’m hoping that if you go to the Asric Pass, Herne will go with you.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You want him there? Why?”

“From what you said, the rebels were exceptional about hiding their tracks and ensuring their camp was almost impossible to spot. As more and more people travel to that camp, they will begin leaving signs of that travel.”

Tibris’s expression cleared. “I’ll send a pigeon to Herne.”

A knock sounded on the door. Madinia stepped over and opened it.

“Message for someone named Marth,” the messenger said. He had a long cut across one cheek. “And your pigeon needs to be replaced. Almost took out my eye.”

I sighed. Trust Marth to have a vicious pigeon.

He slowly uncoiled his huge body, strolled across the room, and plucked the message from the man’s hand, giving him a gold coin. “Thank you.”

Marth read the message, and his face drained of blood. A chill slid over my skin, my heart stumbling on its next beat.

His eyes met mine. “I know what Rothnic has been working on. Our spies have finally learned the information. One of them was caught and killed. But two managed to escape Eprotha.”

Lorian tensed, and I could feel the impatience rolling off him in waves. Regner’s favorite Patriarch had a gift for creating horror with his magic.

Finally, Marth shook his head, as if attempting to clear it. “The weapon they’ve created…it takes down wards. All kinds of wards.”

Oh gods. The fae lands, Quorith,Lyrinore.

We needed those wards. Without the wards, the sea serpents wouldn’t attack, and the hybrid kingdom would be invaded. So would the fae lands. And our people would die.

It was as if history was repeating itself.

“Regner is going to attack us on all fronts, isn’t he?” I said, my lips numb. “He’ll split our forces, use whatever weapon Rothnic has come up with, and take down all of our wards. We’ll be so busy defending our lands, we won’t be able to strategize.”

Silence.

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