“Tell Colonel Cyte and Colonel Giforte to fire at will,” Marcus directed a runner.
The line began its advance, men moving in unison to the beat of inaudible drums. For a few more minutes, nothing happened, except for the flash and boom of the distant gun batteries. Then, as the trench lines came into range of the oncoming formation, the Girls’ Own began to fire. It wasn’t a single volley, but spread down the line with a rolling crackle, a wave of light and smoke as the soldiers found their targets. Even at long range, some shots told, and bodies began to dribble out the back of the enemy line. They came on, steadily, as more and more fire rose from the trenches. Soon all that was visible on the slope of the hill was a roiling cloud of smoke, lit from within by muzzle flashes like fitful lightning.
The enemy halted, battalions shrinking toward their flags as they closed their ranks. They raised muskets to their shoulders, then fired, all at once. The flash of the volley was terrific, followed by a sound like a single clap of thunder, and a wave of smoke rose over them. Whether it had any effect on the women in the trenches was hard to say, but answering fire continued to rattle back. Marcus lowered his spyglass, looking satisfied.
“Just a probe,” he said.
“They’re still fighting.” Raesinia found her eyes glued to the flashes.
“Not for long. Troops in the open are never going to be able to shoot it out with men behind breastworks. Janus will know that if he wants to take this hill, he’s going to have to do it with bayonets.” He looked over his shoulder. “He’ll try the flanks first, though. I’m going to find Sevran. Where will you be?”
“Here, or at the cutter’s station,” Raesinia said. “Hannah said I might be useful for keeping morale up, if I don’t get in the way. Marcus...”
“What?”
She wanted to kiss him, here in front of everyone, but couldn’t quite nerve herself to do it. It would only be a distraction. But some part of her mind couldn’t help asking, But what if this is your last chance?
“Be careful,” she said, knowing how silly it sounded.
He nodded briskly. “If they start bombing the hill with howitzers, even the cutter’s station will be in range. I know...” He lowered his voice. “I know I don’t need to tell you to be careful. Just try not to get your head blown off where everyone can see it, all right?”
Raesinia laughed, and felt tears prick her eyes. “I’ll do my best.”
*
Sure enough, the fighting at the base of the hill soon died away, the enemy retreating out of the cloud of their own musket smoke. More units were maneuvering in the middle distance, and Raesinia could see cavalry on the move. At the base of the boulder, the young officers—?she recognized a few from Alek Giforte’s old staff—?received a message from a rider or a runner every few minutes, and plotted small changes to their map.
I should find something useful to do. She felt helpless, the Queen of Vordan hesitant to interrupt her own men. They know what they’re doing. What do I have to add? She was on the point of sliding down from the boulder when the flashes began in the fields below.
Guns. But more guns than before, more guns than she’d ever seen at once. There must have been a hundred muzzle flashes, so close together and nearly simultaneous that they had all died away into smoke before the first sound arrived. It was a bass rumble that grew and grew, rising to a crescendo that seemed to shake the very ground beneath them.
Then, all at once, solid shot was landing all around them. Geysers of dirt exploded upward from the face of the hill, spraying from where the balls buried themselves or bounced wildly into the air. One shot hit the log at the front of a breastwork and smashed it into a spray of flying splinters. Raesinia saw one of the balls as it ricocheted past, hanging at the peak of its trajectory for a moment before it crashed to the ground ten yards beyond her boulder.
“Your Highness!” one of the young officers shouted into the ringing silence that followed. He stood at the base of the boulder, holding out his hand. “Come down, please! It’s not safe.”
Raesinia wanted to scream. Bad enough to feel useless without everyone telling you so. But her eyes went to the huddle of staff, where one of the men was on the ground in a pool of blood, while two others struggled to remove a long wooden splinter from his side. She could see casualty teams moving on the slope of the hill, running to reach the injured.
They’re risking their lives. Raesinia looked back at the smoking line of guns and felt like an impostor. What am I risking?
She slid down the boulder’s face, letting the officer grab her hand and hustle her toward the cutter’s station. Behind her, a second volley of cannon-?fire began.
MARCUS
“Nothing serious,” Fitz said. “A couple of regiments looking for a weak spot. We sent them about their business.”
“That’s more than a couple of regiments now,” Marcus said, looking through the spyglass. Heavy columns of men were forming well beyond cannon-?shot. Counting their flags, Marcus put them at at least two divisions, possibly more.
“He’s not wasting time,” Fitz said. “Now that he knows where we are, he intends to crush us.”
“It’s the same on the left,” Marcus said. “A couple of divisions. It’ll be a simultaneous attack from both sides.”
“Is that what you would do, in his place?” Fitz said, with a slight smile.
“No. Converging attacks from multiple directions are hell to get timed right. That’s the sort of thing clever officers come up with.” He lowered the spyglass and looked at Fitz. “But it’s what Janus would do.”
“I agree,” Fitz said.
“You know what I need you to do?”
“Take the reserve and advance. Defeat this wing. Then transfer the reserve back to the left in time to withstand the assault there.” He looked over his shoulder at the hill. “Assuming the center can hold out, of course.”
Marcus shook his head admiringly. “Why aren’t you in command, Fitz?”
“Some days I ask myself the same question, sir.”
“Do it. I’ll ride back and start sending the reserve your way. Just don’t take too long.”
“Understood, sir.”
In the distance the sound of cannon-?fire went on and on like steady rain.
31
Winter
Winter sat in the clearing, listening to the guns. She’d never heard so many at once. And they were all coming from the northeast, the face of Bear Ridge, where the Girls’ Own were stationed. Cyte. Abby. They were likely crouching in a trench, hearing the balls zip overhead or plow into the earth. Or find just the right target, where unyielding metal meets yielding flesh and turns my beautiful, brilliant girl into a mangled ruin—