“Oh, Daughter.” He grabs a fistful of my hair and jerks me close. “Once again, I have to remind you what true fear is.”
Bruises from those who should love you sting more than others. Deep and lasting, they bleed into your spirit, no matter how common they become. Something shatters with each strike, and it isn’t always bone.
Fortunately, my father didn’t break anything, though several of my ribs ache when I breathe. He spared my face, except for the side of my jaw, which was likely an accident. Clever men know to hit where clothes cover.
We march the next day. I’m allotted water, but without food and with a newly beaten body, I struggle to keep up and drag at the rope tying me to my father’s saddle. After two hours, his exasperation wins out, and he has one of the soldiers toss me onto a sledge. I realize, as we grow close to the end of the day’s march, that we’re heading to the East Arrow, just as I’d told the trollis scout, a place nearly triangulated between Terysos, Dorys, and Lucarpo, where my father’s plans indicated there would be a battle.
I lift my head as the sledge drags along. A spot on the mountains looks darker than the rest, but as I watch, I realize it’s another portion of my father’s army come to meet us. A portion that must have been working to draw out the trollis to the north. I ask the nearest soldier who they are, but he ignores me.
I look skyward, to the stars. A slip of light crosses directly overhead, then vanishes. My pulse quickens. It means something, surely. If only I knew what.
I count men when we make camp for the night, estimating nearly one thousand soldiers. When my father binds me—refusing me a cot—he says, “You’re more trouble than you’re worth. You want revenge? Show me. I’ve a special place for you tomorrow, Calia. Prove yourself, and I’ll let you eat.”
He shoves me down and leaves, snapping his fingers. Two guards, including Dunnan, come inside the tent to guard me. Dunnan never meets my eyes. There will be no stowing away tonight.
And tomorrow, the battle will begin.
I do not leave my father’s side.
He keeps my wrists bound by rough rope and totes me around like a dog on a leash as his men, and the men of a man named Lythanis, prepare for battle. They don armor, sharpen weapons, and assemble tents in practiced fashion, though there’s only shelter to house half the soldiers. The trollis will be far better outfitted, yet I struggle to find relief in the fact. Most of the human soldiers have been coerced through desperation. They need food, water, and shelter, and they’ve been raised from infancy to believe the trollis are monsters. They have every reason to attack and no motivation to seek peace.
Surprisingly, my father lets me ride when we march, keeping me sideways and in front of him, holding my rope along with his reins. The lope of the animal hurts my bruises, but I try not to wince.
It’s a short march, nearly to the place where I was supposed to rendezvous with Tayler. Lythanis barks at his men to line up. Where my father keeps his rabid anger in a steel cage, Lythanis wields his freely. No doubt my father has plans to help me cow the general if and when the humans earn their victory. He does not share glory well.
We ride behind the assembling soldiers. A few boys even younger than Tayler erect one of the tents where the dry ground inclines, allowing a good vantage point. Behind us, to the northeast, the ground slopes down toward a basin. To the southeast, it’s flat and dry. A breeze, already hot from the rising sun, spins up a cloud of dust.
Lifting my head toward the dead city of Eterellis, where my kind once flourished, I see a dark line. Gooseflesh rises on my arms. The trollis scout insinuated that Cagmar already had plans to meet the humans in battle. Now they’ve unleashed their warriors.
I don’t get long to look before my father gracelessly pulls me from the horse and presses me into the newly erected tent. Lythanis stands at its opening, talking to two more men. I don’t see anything to denote rank, but they are alert and confident as they hurry to join the infantry.
It feels as though all the earth holds its breath. My father watches the army, distracted, and murmurs to Lythanis about numbers and strategies. I twist my hands, but the rope around my wrists tightens when I do.
“Look at them,” my father says eventually, his lip curled. “Brutes and beasts. Uncouth, vicious. Do they even burn?”
Two hard lines form between Lythanis’s brows. “See how well fed they are.”
My father hums in agreement. “They eat monsters and have entire farms of fruit-bearing vines. My spies have told me.”
I frown. Peer between the two men. Cagmar has advanced so quickly.
“Soon that food will be in our bellies.” Lythanis rests a hand on the hilt of a narrow sword at his waist. He doesn’t look like a man who misses many meals. I wonder where he’s from but don’t ask. I want them to forget I’m here. The trollis are close, and I will not stay with Ottius Thellele one moment longer than I must. I have no further rendezvous planned with Qequan; now that my words have proven true, how will I return home if I do not send myself?
A tug on my rope jerks me from my thoughts. Father reels me in like a fish on a line until I stand between him and Lythanis at the tent flap. He drapes an arm around my shoulder, and I see a short knife held casually in his fingers, too close to my collar for comfort.
“I’ve a special job for you, Calia,” he whispers. Lythanis doesn’t seem affected by my father’s words or my presence, and I wonder if my father entrusted him with our secret. He must have. “Keep the toads from reaching the midline.”
With his free hand, he draws a finger across the battlefield, indicating the center row of assembled soldiers. Keeping my nose pointed ahead, I nod. He’s sparing his own hide, of course. The instant the battle appears lost, my father will mount and ride away. Will he take me with him? I’d rather die with the rest.
“When I’m finished here, we’ll rebuild. Bolster the Thellele name. Send for your siblings and mother. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
My half siblings and stepmother never knew me. I was a shadow in that house.
“Make you a little princess, hmm?” He taps the flat of the blade against my chin and smirks.
The trollis have arrived. They stop advancing two hundred yards away. Our numbers appear fairly equal. How many of us will be left when this is over?
Lythanis raises a spyglass to his eye, of finer make than the one the monster slayers use. It’s gold and looks old. When he lowers it, I dare to ask, “May I?”
He hesitates. Glances to my father, whose arm still encircles my neck.
Lythanis hands me the glass. Exhaling, I lift it to my right eye and slowly scan the line. It’s a cluster of gray and green, dotted with steely shields and leather jerkins.
My scan stops near the northern end. I extend the glass as far as it will go, turning it for the best focus. My heart rages so suddenly I fear my father will feel it. I hold my breath to keep it from sharpening.
The vision through the scope isn’t perfect, but that’s him. I know it’s him.