Page 125 of Ashes of Honor

Amaia had insisted on taking the riskier route. Predictably, no one would let her. It wasn’t just about strategy; it was about survival. If one group had to make it to Richmond, it was hers. None of them would say it outright, but I would—Amaiawasthe movement. Without her, this whole thing would collapse faster than Riley’s patience when he had to repeat an order.

She didn’t fight them long. When Alexiares backed Riley, she let the argument die. Her silence cut deeper than any words she could’ve spoken. I’d seen her command armies, face impossible odds, and hold her ground against the fiercest enemies. But in that moment, surrounded by her family and closest allies, she looked … cornered.

The plan was simple on paper: our forces would encircle Richmond, dividing its defenses. Amaia’s group would head northeast. Follow the river into West Virginia then Virginia—flank Richmond from the northwest.

Riley would take a smaller, more skilled force—to include Hunter and Serenity’s caravan as a way to accommodate the lack of bodies and overcompensate with magic—down a southeastern path. From there they’d cut through Arkansas into Tennessee and attack from the southwest. This was where the brute of Ronan’s forces laid for it was the more direct route in.

About fifteen miles outside the city the two groups would converge. The larger forces would create chaos at the perimeter while a vanguard unit—Amaia, Alexiares, Riley, Reina, Hunter, Serenity, two cavalry units, and a small squad from Alpha Unit—would slip into Richmond.

Lola would portal them in.

It would use up every ounce of magic gifted from the earth that she had. The kind of spell that left a mark on your soul. She would be punished for daring to wield power so recklessly. She might never cast again. If this failed, there wouldn’t be a second chance. The irony in plans were they were only as good as the people willing to carry them out.

And a cornered Amaia would always make her own plans.

But plans, no matter how carefully crafted, didn’t account for the weight of perception. Amaia to the masses, was no longer a young, reckless leader—they respected her now. Respect wasn’t reverence; it didn’t silence dissent.

The soldiers weren’t afraid to challenge her, treating her more like an equal than an authoritative entity. She wasn’t commanding a broken, desperate army anymore. These people had grown stronger, surer of themselves, and they weren’t afraid to meet her decisions with resistance.

Right there, in that challenge, was the beauty of the situation. They had finally seen her for what she was, something more than a girl in a general’s role. She was more than a rising leader—they had given her the space to prove herself. And now that she had, they secretly hated her for it.

It was funny, in a way. Most of my life, I’d thought being underestimated was the worst thing you could face. That was in The Before.

In The After, it was better to be seen as weak. To not be a threat.

Because threats get taken out.

Tomoe

It’d been days since scouts had reported any movement from Covert on our side of the border. To me, it sounded like we were due a visit. Apparently those who had actual knowledge on this kind of thing didn’t agree. We needed quality rest anyway. After hauling ass for fifty-one days, we were on the tail end of this journey.

Strength was a requirement for this endeavor, and one could not gain strength without proper time to recover. Still, sleep evaded some. While the rest of our camp slumbered away, those whom sleep evaded sat around the fires lining down the massive camp. It was a risk, but with most of our troops in the area,Ronan would have to mobilize his army—and even he could not hide an entire army from scouts.

A shadowed figure moved on the other side of the fire. I sat as close as I could, staring into the mesmerizing rise and fall of the flames. My gaze flickered up and landed on eyes so blue they could rival the purest of seas. Hunter’s attention stayed fixed. I became painfully aware that there was no one here but the two of us. If now was the time he wanted to enact his revenge, I wouldn’t stop him.

He cleared his throat, startling me as his voice cut through the still night of this brute filled camp. “I’ve got your back out there.”

I shifted my weight, uncrossing my legs as my eyes narrowed with confusion. I couldn’t tell what his endgame was.

Hunter read the uncertainty across my expression. “You don’t need to worry … uh … you know, about if I’ll defend you in the same capacity I’d defend the others? I can see the way ya look at me. Just wanted to make that clear.”

The muscles tensed along every inch of my body. It was hard to swallow. He should not have to worry about me, how I’mfeeling. There were bigger problems in the world than how I was doing emotionally. The last thing I wanted was for Hunter Moore to comfort me when I was the one that took the life of his twin. To be frank, I felt like shit every time I looked at him.

Every time I looked into his eyes, I saw Seth Moore—the man I had loved. Maybe it was the kindness in them that Seth had only let me see. Or perhaps it was the intensity, much like his brother’s, yet softened by something unfamiliar.

Empathy.

That part was different.

I had never seen it in Seth’s eyes, not once—not in the years I spent falling for him, not in the nights we spent tangled together, his gaze void of anything but certainty. I hadn’t noticed thenwhat was missing. But now, with Hunter right in front of me, I did.

Standing before his brother, everything I hadn’t realized was missing, was suddenly there. The good. The love. The compassion that matched the love for the world that existed within Reina’s.

He raised to his feet taking one step, two steps over, then sat down. Directly next to me—touchingme. His presence was an electric current in the air. It unnerved me. Made me want to squirm and flee. He didn’t notice. I turned back to the fire, but I could sense his gaze still trained on me.

The closer we got to Covert’s border, the colder the air grew. Hunter’s warmth accompanied with the fire made me appreciative of the frigid bite. Last days of summer or not, there were some parts of Transient Nation that were simply unforgiving.

I forced myself to meet his stare once more. There was something there, it wasn’t pity nor sympathy. Just … something else. Something I could not define.

---