The marshals swiftly bowed and departed, leaving Killian alone in the room. He looked down at the simulator in disgust; he knew the map in every detail. He knew how his men were deployed and the travel times from one place to another. He didn’t need further reminding.
Deciding to find a place where he could be alone with his thoughts, Killian deactivated the simulator and left the war rooms.
He climbed a staircase and entered an empty sitting room with antique cushioned sofas and low tables. Looking at the furniture, he wondered how previous generations had managed to seat themselves on something so uncomfortable. Killian found the balcony doors and pulled them wide. Heedless of the biting wind tearing at his clothing, he stepped out and gazed at his city.
From his vantage, Killian could see the common people below as they passed through Imperial Square. They all deserved his protection. Could he leave them exposed? He knew Sentar Scythran would come for Seranthia, even if it was just to remove the city as an obstacle as he entered the Sentinel and opened the way to Shar. It was an outcome Killian had to do everything in his power to avoid.
But Killian also knew that if Altura called, Ella would be in the thick of the fighting, and she would be battling revenants. How could he abandon her homeland to its fate? Even if Ella managed to survive, he knew she would never forgive him.
Additionally, if the enemy gained a foothold in Altura, their numbers would swell in size, like a plague of locusts feasting on the fields at harvest time. Killian had faith in Miro, but surely Altura couldn’t hold out alone?
Were his feelings for Ella clouding his judgment?
Perhaps he could split his forces if Altura called, as Miro seemed to think was certain. Would a smaller force be enough?
Killian looked down at his hands, the silver symbols decorating the palms only barely visible in the low light of Seranthia at night. Who would challenge Sentar, if not Killian? Staying in Seranthia and sending someone else to the west—say, Rogan Jarvish—even with the majority of the Legion, still might not turn the tide.
Killian’s heart told him the future of the Empire would come down to a battle between Sentar and himself.
He wished Evrin Evenstar wasn’t leaving. Evrin wasn’t aligned to any particular house, and the old man was perhaps the only one Killian could trust for impartial advice. Evrin was wise, and he’d seen and experienced things Killian struggled to imagine.
But Evrin was now leaving for Altura. Like everyone else, Evrin didn’t know if Sentar Scythran would choose to land at Altura, the shortest journey from the new world to the Empire, or travel by ship to Seranthia, his ultimate destination.
Evrin was helping both Tingara and Altura, and Killian wished he could do the same. He had a duty to protect all of the Empire, not just Tingara. If Altura called, what would he do?
Sighing, Killian looked down from the balcony, deciding to watch the people for a while longer. He stood and let the wind buffet him, as if it could scour his mind and bring clarity to his thoughts. He rested his eyes on various folk and wondered where they were going and what their business was. He followed a Halrana merchant sitting atop a drudge-pulled cart and calling out to clear passage through the square. He next settled on a group of revelers, soldiers most likely from the way they walked, though they wore street clothes.
Killian’s gaze settled on a solitary woman standing outside the iron-barred fence that separated the grounds of the palace from the square.
He realized she hadn’t moved the whole time he’d been watching. What was she doing, standing out in the cold? Was she waiting for someone?
He wondered who she was. Her cloak looked to be of decent quality, though unembroidered and without decoration, evidently not expensive. It didn’t have a hood, and though it wasn’t snowing, the wind blew her raven-black hair in a wild tangle about her face. The white skin of her oval face gave way to a sharp nose.
She tilted her head, scanning the upper windows of the palace, and Killian saw that she seemed expectant. Was she waiting for someone from the palace to go out and fetch her? Why didn’t she talk to the guards?
She turned slightly and Killian could now see her more clearly.
His blood ran cold when he saw her face.
Killian gripped the rail tightly. His breath caught as he peered down at her face; she hadn’t seen him, but he could see her clearly.
He felt his heart rate increase to a thundering gallop.
Killian bolted from the chamber, dashing down the steps that would take him on the fastest route to the main palace entrance. He threw himself down the passageways and servants’ corridors, knocking stewards and courtiers out of the way, ignoring their questioning looks and hasty following bows as they realized who he was.