“What is your point?” Evelayn cut in icily, refusing to let him soften her with compliments.
Caedmon’s expression turned grim. “You ruined his plans by reclaiming your power. But because he believes you to be too young and na?ve to rule effectively, he thinks that this is still his chance to press his advantage and plan a different attack while you are weak with grief and your magic isn’t under complete control.”
“I’m listening,” Evelayn allowed, gesturing for him to continue. She glanced briefly at Tanvir to see him watching her closely. His amber eyes were too distracting, and she quickly looked back at Caedmon. She couldn’t risk allowing herself to lose focus and miss any hint of deception on the Dark Draíolon’s part. If he were her subject—and if she’d already mastered the ability, which would take years according to High Priestess Teca and General Kelwyn—she could have stretched out her awareness to try to ascertain his emotional and physical state. But he wasn’t her subject, and she had no access to the power he wielded, and therefore no access to him.
She had to rely completely upon her own senses and feelings, and hope they didn’t lead her astray.
“He is planning on sending the majority of his army to march on the city of Ristra, coming from the northwest, to draw out your army. He is bringing almost all of his priests to create a concentrated attack that will bring down the wards in that one location. He knows that your generals will encourage you to stay as far back from the front line of fighting as possible, especially because you are young and your mother was just killed. That is how he has fought this war, hiding behind thousands of Dark Draíolon, surrounded by his most powerful priests and warriors.”
Evelayn barely kept herself from nodding. She knew this from the lessons she’d had with High Priestess Teca and Kel, and from talking with her mother. It was why her parents had never been able to reach him, or any of his family. When any of the Dorjhalon royals joined the fight at the front lines, all four of them—King Bain, Queen Abarrane, and the two princes, Lorcan and Lothar—were constantly protected by concentric rings of Dark Draíolon, each ring growing smaller the closer one got to the royal family, but also more powerful, until the closest ring of all, made up entirely of the High Priests of Dorjhalon.
Queen Ilaria hadn’t wanted to risk her priestesses’ lives the way Bain did his priests’. She’d insisted that all those not at the front lines holding up the wards stay at the palace, to train the growing generation and to protect her people there from attack.
That tactic had ended with both Evelayn’s father and now her mother being killed by Bain. Perhaps Bain was the wiser one, after all.
“He is planning on setting up a decoy. He’ll keep the formation the same as always, but rather than staying in the security of the rings of protection that he’s formed—and that your army will expect to see—he will take a small group with him and come from behind. He plans to ambush and kill you.”
“How exactly does he plan on coming from behind?”
Caedmon looked slightly confused. “Through the Undead Forest.”
Evelayn remained motionless, swallowing the incredulous laughter that threatened to burst out. “The Undead Forest,” she finally repeated. “I see.”
Caedmon’s eyebrows were still drawn down as if her reaction was … unexpected. Which was confusing to her. To hide her uncertainty, she quickly continued, “This supposed plan is completely unlike him—it holds far too much risk. He defeated my mother without putting himself in so much jeopardy, why try this now on me?”
Something flickered across Caedmon’s face—but it wasn’t confusion, or even guilt or fear. It was sadness … it was pity.
“My dear Queen Evelayn, did no one tell you how your mother was killed?”
Something simultaneously bitterly cold and scalding hot flashed through Evelayn’s body. “What do you mean?” Her voice was as frigid and hard as the mountains of ice said to be at the northernmost reaches of the world, far beyond the shores of Lachalonia. “What is he talking about?” She looked up to her council, seated to her right, including High Priestess Teca and Kel, listening to the entire proceedings.
“Your Majesty, I don’t believe now is the best ti—”
“If there is anything that has been kept from me that holds any bearing on what this male is telling me,” Evelayn cut the High Priestess off, “then it is imperative that you tell me immediately. Punishments for withholding vital information from the ruling queen of éadrolan will be decided later.” Evelayn had to consciously keep her hands from forming fists at her sides, she was so furious.
Teca inclined her head. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” She flicked her hand at a Draíolon sitting two seats down from her—General Olena, the head general of all éadrolan’s armies. Olena stood, her jaw tight. Olena was nearly three hundred, and was showing her age, with streaks of white standing out against the dark plum of the severe braid she wore down her back and the first signs of lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her mahogany skin hid any hint of a flush if she was blushing at all, but Evelayn didn’t miss the meaningful glance between her and Kel before she faced the queen fully.
“We intended to tell you very soon, Your Majesty, after you had some time to mourn—”
Evelayn lifted her hand, and Olena immediately fell quiet. “Just tell me.” She allowed a hint of the fury she felt to seep into her voice, just as she’d seen her mother do many times when she was displeased.
“It was a trap, my queen.” When Olena spoke again, her voice was much quieter, almost ashamed. “He purposely allowed our army to break through his front lines, to kill many of his Draíolon, to make us think we were finally gaining the upper hand. He played it just right—the way they fought back let us think we could win as we came into the height of our power, as summer solstice draws near. They even began to retreat. It was a huge risk on his part; his army is greatly weakened because he allowed so many to die for his farce. Queen Ilaria didn’t want to miss the chance to press our advantage and ordered us to push forward.
“And then he used Lorcan as a decoy. The prince led a battalion against us, drawing the queen into a fight, distracting her. Our scouts had repeatedly informed us that the ring was still in place, protecting King Bain—or so we thought. Your mother knew she could defeat Lorcan. She thought to hold him captive and force Bain to agree to end the war in return for his son and heir.”
The general paused for a moment, as if she didn’t want to continue. Evelayn hardly dared breathe as she pictured her mother falling perfectly into his trap—riding forward to her death rather than the victory she thought was within her grasp.