Page 111 of Ashes of Honor

“They weren’t exactly intrigued by the idea of over-exerting themselves when we could be attacked at any time,” I said the words timidly.

My general was now on edge, and telling her an excuse on why her plans couldn’t come into fruition never had a happy ending. There was no such thing as a good excuse according to her. An excuse was just that—an excuse. An attempt to justify why you hadn’t worked hard enough to accomplish the end goal.

“Sorry.” Sarcasm laced her tongue. “I forgot only the foot soldiers were supposed to be comfortable putting our lives on the line.”

“Amaia,” I warned her not to go there.

It had less to do with the relationship I had with thebrujas, with Lola, and more about showing her disappointment to them. Her outlook on their efforts would gain her fewer favors than they were already interested in providing.

“What?” she snapped, voice raising an octave to a level she hadn’t used with me since Duluth.

Her gaze softened at the realization. This was out of our control—for now. Unless she demanded otherwise.

“Do you want me to hold them for a few days? Make them finish up? Because I will if only you ask it of me.” I lifted my chin, tilting it just enough to meet her gaze, putting us on equal footing.

If I acted in any way other than respecting thebrujaswishes while Lola was not here to give the command, her permission … Ronan would seem but a small threat. I’d have to face Lola and explain myself, plead for my life and hers after, but if it made Amaia’s life easier, then I would do it without hesitation.

“No.” I saw the sparkle in her eyes. The momentary consideration as she grappled with the decision, ultimately deciding that there were actions that we couldn’t take back. Choices that went too far. “Let’s see how this goes.”

“After you.” I moved toward the door, holding it open and watching as she passed through the threshold, praying to whoever the fuck was up there to let a dreaming soul find rest when this was all over. It was what she deserved.

So it wasn’tas fucking tragic as we expected. Still, it was pretty rough to witness.

The air was thick with the scent of moss and rust. Royal Oaks was probably an all right place in The Before. By ‘all right,’ I mean by some old cuck’s standards. Now, it was nothing more than streets swallowed by vines and decay. We passed through the skeletal remains of a monotonous suburban sprawl. A forgotten graveyard of the boring, average, American life.

A hum of anticipation vibrated through the chill of the early morning. Our breath was visible in the air, passing through the protection of the shields enveloping my general and myself. They were a precaution. Every motherfucker here knew that if either of us were hit, it’d be a problem. And we all knew how I handled anything I deemed a ‘problem.’

At least in this all, the respect for Amaia had gone up—as deserved. She moved smart. Amaia demanded their initial respect—just enough where they were at least willing to try her methods—but had let her work speak for itself in the end. There was no denying her effectiveness as a leader and a general now. The fact that the war simulation thus far wasn’t a complete disaster was every bit of proof that she deserved her reputation. Her spot.

After weeks of assessments, re-evaluation of positions, and overall reluctance to move where they were needed most—Amaia had divided our forces with an efficiency that bordered on ruthlessness. If Ronan thought we were a threat before, we had the potential to be an unstoppable force with the right conditions, the right attitudes, and the overall desire to put an end to his reign.

Infantry held the center of the city, dug in behind crumbling barricades at the old Oakwood intersection. Any scouts had long vanished into the overgrown neighborhoods flanking the borders of this operation—their shadows now danced between husks of long forgotten family homes.

General Silas Trevan, now in charge of Alpha Unit—and general of Salt Lake Compound—led a strike team from the strip mall. He’d been loyal to Amaia from the beginning . With their history from the first war, she trusted him with the right amount of caution, conditions of which made the best partnerships. So she placed him where she needed him the most. Leading charge on our offense.

Perhaps the sexiest she’d ever been was the night she didn’t flinch when assigning soldiers to the risky positions. There was no room for hesitation when giving these orders, and she’d held none. I’d watched her send Isabella Everhart to guard the south bridge of the city, knowing the true terrain she was auditioning for offered little cover. Her hands did not shake when she’d ordered Reina to ride as the combat medic under the cavalry and into the collapsed underpass, knowing she’d be preparing her for the very real scenario of evacuating civilians. A task that came with the risk of a possible ambush. She was methodical, decisive—every move calculated for victory, even if it came at a cost.

Amaia was destined to lead us into a victorious war. She was a warrior.

A Queen.

A woman who could not, would not, be stopped.

Her heart was made of fire and ice. The flames that burned for the freedom she could bring. Ice consumed the parts of her necessary to freeze the hatred, the malice—the savagery from the war.

Amaia was a war goddess who only promised peace.

The first wave came fast and hard. Pounding the center line with simulated fire and the surge of ‘enemy’ troops. Our simulation required an offense and a defense. What the best chance would be to run through the possibilities of the offensive technicalities of leading an attack, meeting the enemy head-on. Then there were the defensive measures to ensure we had what it took to protect our homes with minimal defense. Each soldier had been handpicked by Amaia with the consultation of their respective leadership to determine where they would serve us best.

One unit, one damn compound.

Infantry scrambled to hold their positions. The scouts shouted coordinates over commsTinkerershad spent the last few weeks ensuring worked in the most trivial of circumstances. Amaia didn’t waver. She watched as her chosen leaders cut orders through the chaos. As heavy hitters moved to intercept a breach on the left flank, the air buzzed with magic. Every soldier moved in unison, their movements guided by Amaia’s beautiful mind. Her presence on this battlefield was admirable, unshakable … commanding.

“Not bad,” Amaia muttered, turning away and tilting her chin down, the words meant for my ears alone. “I was considering splitting us into two divisions for the sake of operational flexibility.”

“Are you asking for an opinion or telling me what’s about to happen?”

“Don’t act as if you don’t enjoy being told what to do.” Amaia bit her lip, cheeks flushing as she continued glancing around the provisional battleground.

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