"We can use the secret passageway behind the waterfall," says Dean. "Sneak into Stonehill and catch Levi unawares."
Fen shakes his head. "He knows of the passage. Would have had it caved in by now. Or worse, set with traps."
"Valid point. Well, that only leaves a frontal assault. But no great army. I have few men left after the battle against Metsi and Oren, and most of them are deserters."
"They will have to be disciplined," says Fen, massaging his knuckles.
I join them at the table, wrapping my arm around Fen’s, and smiling. "They fled a battle that wasn’t worth fighting. We shouldn’t blame them."
Fen grunts. "They fled because Yami made them shit themselves."
My baby dragon stands a little taller, roaring into my ear with pride. I giggle.
"He’s back, isn’t he?" asks Fen.
"Yes. And he misses Baron. Where is the wolf?"
"Hunting." The way Fen says it, he seems quite jealous.
Dean steps up to me, uncomfortably close as he scans my shoulder. "Where is the beasty? Come on boy, you can come out. I need to congratulate you for pushing the Fae back. I was surrounded by fifty men, near my wits end when you roared in the sky and sent them running. Ah, there you are."
I flinch. "He revealed himself?"
"I see him too," says Fen, grinning.
I turn to Yami and pet his little scales. "What a good boy. Such a good boy."
Dean takes a turn petting as well, and my baby dragon purrs with joy. "You train up and get big now," says the prince. "We’re going to need you." Yami nods, squinting and trying to look serious. "There you go. Good little beast of mass destruction. Now, back to the plans. We need a bigger army."
"Best keep your voice down," says Fen. "Back in Stonehill, I discovered there was a spy in the castle, reporting back to the Druids. They may have ears here as well."
Dean nods, lowering his voice to barely a whisper, sounding like an old woman on her deathbed. "Very well, then. Let’s all talk like this. It totally won’t draw attention."
I chuckle, then look around, seeing vampires train, but no others. "What about the Fae? We could recruit the slaves?"
Fen sighs, leaning down on his elbows. "Slaves make for poor warriors. They either join the enemy as soon as possible, or fight with so little vigor they lose you the battle."
"Okay. Well, what if we motivated them." An idea forms in my mind, and I start to tremble with excitement. "What if we offer them freedom after a certain term of service?"
Dean looks more serious than usual. "Might actually work."
"Maybe," says Fen. "But the masters won’t be happy, if we send their slaves off to die."
"Then we lose support of the vampires," adds Dean. "Maybe even the Shade."
I chew my lip thinking. "Maybe we compensate anyone whose slaves leave to fight. We could pay them."
Dean whistles. "And who has that kind of coin?"
"Niam," says Fen.
"Right. The person least likely to help us." The Prince of Lust sits down on a chair, running his hands through his golden hair, mumbling about stupid vampires and Fae. Seems Fen and Dean have something in common.
Someone yells outside the courtyard. Then others join him. "What the bloody hell is going on?" asks Dean, already up and running.
Fen and I follow him out to the streets. Three men, vampires wearing leather and carrying swords, tie a rope around a man’s neck. "You stole my dagger, you dirty Fae!" says the biggest vampire, his face dirty with mud.
"No," pleads the Fae, on his knees, his neck red and straining against the rope.
"Yes, you did. Don’t lie. You know what we do to lying and thieving scum like you?"
"No. Please."
"String him up, boys."
The other two men grab the end of the rope and begin to tie it on a branch of a nearby tree, withered and barren of leaves.
Fen growls and rushes forward. "Stop. Now."
The vampires look his way and laugh. Continue their torture. How? And then I remember, the illusion. They don’t recognize Fen as the Prince of War.
Dean raises his arm. "Cut him down. Now."
This time, the vampires do pay attention. They pause. "Apologies, your Grace," says the big one. "But this one is my slave. I can do what I like with my property."
"You will cut him down," Dean says, and intensity in his eyes I’ve not seen before. "Or I will take your hand with my blade."
"Maybe we should, Roge," says the smallest of the three.
Roge, the big one, nods. "Very well. I meant no offense. Release him." They untie the rope, setting the Fae free.
I run to the man’s aid, helping him stand and whispering an incantation to help with his pain. He is covered with purple bruises, and my spell does not do enough. "I need to take him to a healer. Is there one nearby?"
Dean points to a tree in the distance. "There’s a healer in the building there. Faster than trying to find Baldar."
I nod and help the Fae forward as his accusers disappear down an alley.
"I’ll come with you," says Fen.
"No. I’ll be fine. You’re of more use here, planning how to retake Stonehill."