Page 130 of Ashes of Honor

“As well as one can in the middle of all this,” I replied, trying and failing to focus on the wall instead of the way the water slipped down her collarbone, tracing lines I shouldn’t be thinking about.

“What’s wrong, warrior girl?” Millie teased, turning toward me, her voice soft but laced with that familiar playful edge. The water dripped from her lashes and darkened her hair until it clung to her waist. “Nervous about the real fight?”

I let out a slow, amused breath, turning to her with a smirk. “Nervous? I was only wondering if you’d be able to keep up.”

“I love a good challenge. Only one way to find out,” she said, smirking as she raked a hand through her wet hair, sending droplets flying in my direction with a careless flick of her fingers.

I took a step back, taking my towel in self-defense. “Watch it. You’ll ruin my … towel.”

Millie laughed, a rich, throaty sound that made the air feel a thousand degrees warmer. “Towel? Is that your armor of choice today, cowgirl?”

“Why not?” I said, crossing my arms. “It’s practical. Light. Easy to maneuver in.”

“You’ve got all the tactical advantages,” she said, grabbing the soap and lathering it in her hands, her eyes glinting with mischief.

“It’s water resistant.”

Millie snorted, her freckled nose crinkled as she shook her head. The banter felt good—normal. Like it was okay to laugh. I bit down on my lip, cheeks heating.

Then the shouting erupted.

Distant at first, muffled by the thick walls, but they grew louder, sharper. Voices overlapping, urgency cutting through the air. My stomach dropped.

“What now?” Millie muttered, cutting the water off abruptly.

I didn’t have an answer. The noise outside had shifted into chaos—rapid footsteps, orders being barked, the unmistakable sound of equipment being shoved into packs. Millie grabbed her robe, wrapping it around her quickly. We stepped out into the main pathway of the camp. Soldiers moved frantically, faces tense. The amount of fear I felt was overwhelming. I gripped onto Millie’s arm for support, her hand wrapped around my waist as she pulled me back and out of the fray.

“We’re moving,” someone called out, rushing past us with an armful of supplies.

“Ronan?” Millie asked, but the fury in her emerald eyes told me she already knew the answer.

A response never came. The moment pressed in, thick and suffocating. And all I could think wasnot enough time.

“Reina!” someone shouted. I turned to see a Serenity waving me over.

“Let’s go,” I said, wrapping my free arm around Millie’s neck for support. The fear continued to increase, and I hadn’t been prepared to block it out before it’d become all-consuming. She nodded, the teasing smile gone, replaced by the hardened determination we all wore in moments like this.

The lull was over. It was time to fight.

Amaia

My mercy only extended so far before I was tempted to ask the devil for a favor.

Those motherfuckers from Kansas were dead the second my troops set eyes on them—I only needed to figure outhow. Scouts had poured in by the many. Kansas was on the move, and it wasn’t to join our cause. Nope. I knew exactly what they were going to attempt, as if Ronan had scrawled their plans in bold across the tundra.

He wanted to chase us to the border—not push. There was a difference there. Ronan desired us to be broken by fear andexhaustion. This was not to bethebattle, but a series of small ones until we couldn’t go on a second longer.

So I’d have to break him first.

We had a day, maybe less, if Wichita, Kansas City, and Topeka kept their pace. I glanced up as Reina slipped into the tent, Serenity’s jacket covering her towel shrouded body, light and snow flurries streaming in before the flap fell shut. She was followed closely by Millie, who was soaking wet, and Tomoe, her wide, hazed eyes fogged with exhaustion.Diagnosis fucked, fantastic.They pushed into the crowded tent that smelled like ass, must, and everything wrong with the world.

Things had been going too well. I was weary in finding hope in the extended bouts of peace. As we closed in on Covert’s borders and the desert merged into the beginnings of a cold, unforgiving tundra, the nerves in me only increased.

This barren land was a graveyard, and the only thing it was missing was bodies. Ours or theirs.

No one spoke. They knew me enough by now to keep their mouths shut when I was in this state—calculating, teetering on the edge of brilliance or disaster. I refused to let us be caught running, but staying meant a fight we might not win. I ignored them, flipping through Prescott’s journal instead. I needed to think—to pull from the known to prepare for the unknown.

They probably thought I was reviewing battle plans, options—I wasn’t. I was searching for something familiar to anchor me. Anything to help think clearly.

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