Page 86 of Ashes of Honor

“Forty-three of them? I mean, I love a good collector’s item as much as the next gal, but that number’s a bit ridiculous, don’t you think?”

“Sample size?” Reina asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Two hundred,” Finley answered, shrugging.

They fell into a rapid-fire discussion on genes, mutations, and whether Finley had the capacity to determine which they were natural, evolved, or … forced into the DNA. I caught snippets of it. Technical terms and probabilities that I trusted Reina to handle and absorb what was important as I tuned out, taking in the details of the room instead.

Their chatter slowly but surely pulled others. The curiosity seemed to break through their fear. That was good. Something thatcouldaffect them no matter how much they followed Ronan’s authority. Especially since they all had a trip to make back.

“Duh.” Finley stared blankly at Reina at one point, twirling a strand of her hair and then smirked at Alexiares. “This is the idiot you’re stuck with? Don’t ya miss home?”

“Not even remotely,” Alexiares rolled his eyes.

“Andthisidiot,” Reina cut in smugly, pointing toward herself, “is the reason we can give ourselves new power, too. Control what powers we get and limit the effects of infection.”

Finley crossed one leg over the other, brow raising, suddenly intrigued. “Please, tell us more.”

Reina’s face flushed as Tomoe jabbed her in the ribs, hard. “Uh, no thank you,” she stammered, her earlier confidence evaporating.

“Doesn’t seem like much of an idiot to me,” Millie said, her eyes trailed up Reina’s body. From the trousers hugging her hips and flickering over the loose buttons of her top that revealed the lace of the bra she sported underneath.

“Consider us curious,” a representative announced, cutting through the tension, “if only to know half the secrets Monterey and St. Cloud are harboring.”

“Ooh, that’s going to be tough. I heard negotiations were closed, right, Mai Mai?” Finley piped up, her tone dripping with mock sweetness.

“Shut up,” I snapped, giving her a sharp glare. “I’m not opening negotiations. You’ll receive information that is pertinent to our cause at the time that is most beneficial for you to find out.”

“And who deems it beneficial? You?” he scoffed.

“Yes,” I said, flashing a thin smile.

He tossed his hands up in exasperation and scoffed, “Not that there’s much of an option. We’re not signing anything without reading the terms,” the leader added. “But Grand Forks and the other settlements of North Dakota are willing to have a discussion on what thispartnershipmay look like.”

Fargo and Lincoln nodded in agreement. A murmur spread through the room as a few other settlements voiced their amiability to take this rebellion and turn it to a revolution. It wasn’t a resounding victory, but it was something.

“Good,” I said, straightening my posture, arms falling back behind me and I continued pacing the room. Circling them, a shark in the water at the slightest drop of blood. “Simulations will commence here two weeks from today. An hour after dawn. If you’re late, well, don’t be. It’s rude. If you find it beyond your means to return to your compound and mobilize your troops in time, our cavalry will send a rider with a message ahead of your return. Give me your best hundred; they’ll need to train the rest by leading on the battlefield.”

Two weeks should be enough for most. A new alliance meant no more sneaking along back roads, no more wasted days avoiding patrols. Those who still couldn’t make the journey in time would have riders sent ahead to gather their troops and meet them here. No excuses. No delays.

I paused, letting the words resonate before continuing. “I must warn you: Ronan’s troops are currently engaged with ours back home. We can keep him occupied for now, but once wemobilize, that’s it. He’ll draw back, and from there, we take the fight to him.”

Fear, doubt, and determination played across their faces in equal measure. Good. They needed to feel it all. They needed to understand exactly what was at stake.

“You have two weeks,” I said, my voice firm. “Make it count.”

Riley

Fire crackled in the distance. It was low. Hungry. A growl that wrapped around Monterey Compound with deafening ferocity. Heat rolled in waves, twisting in the air, the trees shimmering in smoke and steam. Our fire fields stretched out for ten miles of carefully laid defense. Pansies writhed against the chains, the muted sound a juxtaposition to the groans of the dying sprawled across the surrounding field. Knowing there was someone in there, trapped beyond reach, now used as a weapon, was as horrific as it was brilliant.

Us versus them. That’s what I had to remind myself. And anyone that wasn’tuswas consideredthem.

Pansies, Ronan, Fresno, and anyone else out there who dared tried to take our home, our lives. Our set up was a nightmare for anyone trying to breach us—but it wasn’t impossible. Not with time. Not with resources and numbers. All of which Covert Province possessed. And yet, Ronan was pulling back.

“Troops are gone,” Abel muttered beside me. His Plasma blade hung loosely in his grip, eyes distant as he stared at the blown up scramble of body parts at our feet. “Snipers confirm they’ve retreated from North Gate.”

I scanned the tree line through my binoculars, but all I saw were the bones of the forest, twisted and blackened from flame. No shadows darting. No troops pressing the perimeter. Pushing my magic out, I searched through the whispers of nature that whispered to me. Nothing.

Covert had not only fled, they’d disappeared before our eyes.

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