Page 112 of War Hour

Standing, I gesture to the Trial. “Do you need to see anything else?” I ask, anger coating my tone. No one says anything but shakes their heads. “Good, because we need to get back to the capital. Now.”

“Dowe know where he would hit first?” Evander pants out as we jog through the halls toward the throne room.

While our entrance into the Court of Valor had been all about remaining undetected, our departure is anything but. Instead, we run like war chases us at our heels.

Every window we pass warns of how much of a head start Drytas had ahead of us. The sky is no longer a well of blackness, a combination of the night sky and the city’s smog. Now the first cracks of light outline the horizon, forewarning the new day that has arrived.

“His original plan was to go for the Court of Virtue because they are closest, but I’m not sure if that is still his plan. He knows he exposed that part of his plan, so I don’t think he’ll continue with it now.”

“How is it he decided to attack now?” Visha asks.

I scoff, looking at her from the corner of my eye. “You mean like I said he was planning to?”

“I’ll make sure to applaud you for it later,” Visha snarls sarcastically. “No, I mean why now? Out of all the times he could have attacked, how did he choose right when we were coming to discover his lies?”

I stumble mid-stride, coming to a sudden stop. Turning to Visha, I breathe heavily before asking, “Are you saying that—”

“I’m saying that he knew.”

My heart feels as if someone is gripping it tightly, and I press a hand to my chest as if it will dissipate the feeling.

Visha continues, “I’m saying that someone warned him we were onto him, and he rounded up his people to attack while we were distracted.”

Evander shakes his head emphatically. “There’s no way. The only people that knew we were leaving were Crowns and Heirs. And that isn’t enough time for anyone to get a message out.There’s no way Lord Drytas could have mobilized an entire city in that time.”

Visha and I exchange a look.

I think that’s exactly what Drytas did. It’s entirely likely that Drytas has been ready to attack on a moment’s notice for weeks.

“Who knew about your plan before you brought it to the Crowns? You obviously told someone. Did you tell Lord Torryn?”

My gaze snaps to her. Shutting her down with one hard look. “I didn’t tell him. The only ones who knew were Sar and Evander, who, if you didn’t notice, were right here alongside us—fighting.”

“I know about his little mind tricks. All it would take would be for you to even think about the plan in his presence, and he could find it if he was looking.”

Visha’s knowledge of Torryn’s power takes me by surprise. When no one within the capital wall mentioned that power, I assumed it was not known.

I shake my head. “I didn’t think of the plan until after Torryn had already left.”

Evander chirps in, “So, then, Sar—”

“It’s not her. She’s risked too much by helping us, not to mention revealing a power that would have been more useful if kept secret.” Turning to Visha, eyebrows knotted, I prod her. “Mind reading is from your court. I could have spoken to anyone who has Trialed in Virtue and not even known.”

Visha’s face darkens. “That doesn’t mean it was someone of my court. Lord Nicaise lets practically anyone Trial in Virtue. It could be plenty of people.”

“We can’t prove who leaked. But it proves one thing. Drytas has been recruiting from the other courts. So, he may have more to his army than just members of the Guard and Untrialed.”

Runningthe halls of the capital, I’m sure we look a sight to behold. Dried blood crusts on the weapons strapped to our body, mixing with sweat staining our clothes, making it look as if we are gravely injured.

At such an early hour in the morning, several staff members roam the halls. They doddle along, toting trays of food, and freshly cleaned linens as if today is like any other. Little do they know how much is about to change.

They would soon see a new kind of War Hour.

At the sight of the six of us barreling down the hall, they jump to the side and into open doorways with a shriek. Watching us with bulging eyes and pointed fingers. The Heirs that sprint past them in varying levels of dishevelment resemble no part of the trophies that had been paraded past them at the Peace Ball.

Gone were their fancy garments and luxurious jewelry. Gone were their charming smiles and hopeful words.

Today, any passerby witnessed the future of their courts. Warriors that are prepared to defend.

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