Bryn barked out orders to the soldiers assembled before her, worry gnawing at her gut. There was a disturbance at the eastern gate that was sparked only a few minutes ago, but the communications had already gone silent.
Before her uncle could come and order them to make their way to the gates, Bryn needed to secure the eastern gates to the palace so Maude could sneak through.
Revna either had not returned or was too busy to confirm that her sister had received the letter she sent, which was why Bryn was working frantically to keep the gates empty before her uncle noticed.
Working harder than ever to keep her Lieutenant General mask in place, Bryn continued her speech, “Shut down the disturbance at the wall, and if anyone kills the perpetrator before I get to speak with them, consider your families notified of your unfortunate passing in the line of duty."
Her eyes gleamed with predatory intent as her gaze moved over every single soldier lined up in front of her.
“Yes, sir,” they all shouted as one.
“Go.”
As one, they turned and marched out the eastern gates without looking back once, leaving them unguarded.
Nausea rose in her as she kept her face neutral. She thought of Revna again.
Where was she?Bryn wondered again.She should have been back by now.
Attempting to shove aside thoughts of her lover, Bryn headed toward her office. Perhaps Revna was waiting for her there. It would not be so uncommon for a soldier to report to her office to debrief after a mission. As she approached her office door, she saw the crackling flames of a fire she did not ignite under the door. Relief washed through her.
Revna.
Unable to keep her relief contained for much longer, she burst through her office doors and scanned the room, looking for her lover. The small room was scarcely decorated; the simple furniture included only a desk and a few chairs. The singular window looked over the eastern gates, where Bryn could spot black plumes of smoke rising from the ruined structures like a huge blast had dismantled the gears that operated the doors.
Her office looked normal enough except for the one disturbance that rocked Bryn to her core.
Sitting in her chair, legs propped up on the desk, was the General of the Kingdom of Flame—her uncle.
“General,” Bryn said abruptly, bowing low with her fist over her heart.
“Lieutenant,” he replied, a grotesque smirk playing in his mouth. “I’ve been waiting quite a while for your return.”
Bryn straightened stiffly, her long copper braid sliding over her shoulder to hang down her back.
“Apologies, General,” she bit out. “There is an attack on the eastern gate of the city, and I was arranging for soldiers to supply aid to those already defending our city.”
“Yes, I heard. That was quite the blast,” he replied as he lazily twirled a long braided thread hanging from his waistband.
Bryn's attention zeroed in on the thread, the shining black material that was being run through her uncle’s dirty hands so intensely familiar to Bryn, as she had run her fingers through it frequently.
Every thought emptied from her mind as the fire that burned deep in her soul sparked at the sight of the black braid of hair hanging from the General’s belt.
“Where is she?” Bryn asked her voice a low growl that she had never heard from herself before.
“I do hope you reinforced the palace gates before you dispatched your soldiers,” he continued as if he had not heard Bryn speak. “Assuming, of course, that the threat at the gate is a real threat at all.”
“Where is she?” Bryn shouted, wind swirling around her and lifting her heavy braid along with all the papers on her desk in a frenzy.
The General chuckled before standing, the sound soft and sinister.
“She is not suffering. Come.” He motioned one arm to the door behind her. “I’ll take you to your shieldmaiden.”
Bryn was unmoving as her uncle walked past her to the door. Before she could respond or turn around, he stopped at her side and leaned in. “Or should I say your lover?”
Flames sparked at her fingertips as she turned her gaze to meet her uncles. His face blanched for a split second at what he saw in her eyes before he composed himself and walked out of the office. Bryn followed automatically, keeping her hand resting on her sword.
They entered the courtyard where the soldiers practiced, the pale orange sands empty and peaceful. Bryn absentmindedly noticed that the courtyard, usually filled with the violence that was raging inside of her now, was eerily silent. Her skin began to heat as her rage built inside of her. She needed to free Revna before she could obliterate her uncle; Revna needed to be safe first.