Page 106 of Ashes of Honor

The battlefield blurred around us, smoke and dust folding into a singular focus: survival. I leaned into Nala’s movements, letting her instincts guide us. The first arrow flew, striking a soldier square in the shoulder and spinning him into the dirt.

Another enemy stepped into our path. Without hesitation, I drew and released, the arrow slicing through the air to embed itself in his thigh. He crumpled, screaming, but we were already gone, Nala surging forward like a tempest.

“Good girl,” I whispered, my voice steady even as adrenaline pounded in my ears.

Behind us, Isabella’s voice carried louder than a war drum, driving the rest of the group forward.Finally, a little teamwork makes the dream work, people.

Nala darted sideways, narrowly avoiding a burst of gunfire. I twisted in the saddle, losing two arrows in quick succession. One struck the ground at the shooter’s feet, scattering them, while the other caught a second enemy mid-charge.

As we approached the base, I could feel Nala’s heavy, uneven huffs. “Almost there,” I murmured, patting her neck. She gave one last burst of energy, carrying us over the threshold before slowing to a trembling stop.

I slid off her back, my boots hitting the ground hard. The soldier slumped after me, and someone from Portland’s group rushed to catch her.

Hunter and the others arrived minutes later, their approach heralded by the crunch of boots and labored breaths. I stood waiting, Nala’s reins in my hand as I leaned against her for support, every muscle in my body screaming in protest.

Hunter made a beeline for me, his face torn between relief and exasperation. His gaze swept over me—the sweat slicking my brow, the empty quiver dangling at my side, the streaks of dirt and blood painting a grim portrait of the last hour.

For a moment, he said nothing, shaking his head. Then, his lips twitched into a grin. “God, I’m so fucking proud to be your brother right now.”

“Aren’t ya always proud?” I bit down on my tongue, happy to hear the words.

He laughed too, loud and unrestrained, before pulling me into a hug. I sagged against him, letting the exhaustion hit all at once.

“Come on,” he said, his voice softening as he pulled back. “Let’s get inside before you collapse on me.”

Tomoe

Freedom or death.

The freedom to roam throughout all the territories if they let Salem take over. If they helped us win this war. No more division, no more limitations. United.

Those were the conditions I’d stated in my note to Laurel—the one Amaia asked me to send in her stead months ago in Duluth. It had been a shot in the dark. An empty pretty promise that told them exactly what they wanted to hear. I hadn’t seen it in any vision—until recently. Until Amaia had settled on one of many damning decisions. Somehow that one note had sparked adamn rebellion. Or fueled one. Chicken or egg type of situation, I supposed.

I sat near the fire, cross-legged on a worn blanket, Wrath resting at my side. Finley Thomas’s voice grated against the night air. She never stopped talking. Ever.

“You’re going to drive someone to murder,” I muttered. “Do you ever shut up?”

She flashed me a smile that let me know I’d handed her an invitation to argue. “Do you ever have anything positive to say?”

“No.”

“Well, there you go,” she said smug as ever, leaning back with satisfaction in her unsettling eyes.

Amaia’s head was mine as soon as this stupid game was over.Training exercise. What a joke. More like glorified capture the flag. I said nothing, keeping my gaze on the flames. There were eight of us, risking our sanity over a strip of fabric, pretending it was worth something.

Finley wasn’t even General of St. Cloud. Yet somehow, someway, here she was—crouched next to me in the dirt, running her mouth. She’d insisted on being on the battlefield. It didn’t get any creepier than wanting to see your own inventions take lives firsthand. Her honorary leadership patch meant nothing in the long run, she still ended up here, doing the grunt work with the rest of us.

Not that I had any room to talk. I wasn’t exactly a soldier either. My role as the unit’sSeermeant I was supposed to help anticipate what could happen—to help us outthink the enemy. Not that it always worked. And we had to be careful about when and where to use it without a guarantee of having enough time to recharge in case of an attack. Add in the fact thatseeingthe possibilities didn’t mean I could stop them from happening. Amaia Bennett case and point.

The crackling flames almost drowned out Finley’s voice, which had been a constant hum of chatter since we’d been assigned this post. She couldn’t seem to sit still or stay quiet for more than five minutes. I let her noise wash over me, her bickering with the others filling the gaps in the silence.

And then, she shattered the fragile peace.

“I love a good campfire story. Moe Moe, tell us the story on how the son of the man we’re out to kill, left you high and dry,” Finley said, her head tilting, smirk growing in the low glow of the fire.

I blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“You heard me.” Her smirk deepened.

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