Kohen sat stiffly atop his horse just outside the city of Jux, staring westward toward the woods. The cold nipped at his exposed skin, but he ignored it and instead shifted uncomfortably in the ill-fitting armor strapped across his chest. He tugged at the metal plating, grumbling under his breath as it dug into his shoulders. This wasn’t his armor—it wasn’t made for him. He wasn’t even supposed to be here. Had things gone differently, he would have been far from this wretched city. But going to Dunstead with the others wasn’t an option.

  His horse snorted restlessly beneath him, stomping his hooves against the snow-covered ground. Kohen pulled the reins tighter, forcing the beast to remain still.

  “Stupid horse,” he muttered.

  Kohen hated this armor. Hated the cold. Hated this horse. But above all, he hated being here. Still, it was better than being killed by Arnav or Cerys. If he were dead, where would that have left Anwen? A widow with no protection, left to her father’s whims. More than likely, she would be sold off, married to some brute who would keep her locked away in the palace, waiting to be used as a pawn by her father.

  The thought made Kohen’s hands tighten into fists. He exhaled loudly, trying to shake the dread that twisted in his stomach. He had to survive—survive this war, survive Rhett, survive Arnav—just long enough to return to Anwen. If he could hold out, if he could make it through this, then maybe, he’d have a chance to be with her again.

  A loud horn echoed through the air, pulling Kohen from his thoughts. His head snapped up, narrowing his eyes as he noticed movement in the trees. Soldiers emerged, revealing the first wave of Drurus’s army. Kohen straightened, forcing himself to sit tall in the saddle. At the front of the advancing soldiers was one man whose reputation was known throughout the kingdom—General Higgins.

  Though the man was only in his early thirties, Higgins had made his name known through countless battles, earning a place as one of Arnav’s closest military advisors. His methods were ruthless, his attitude brash, but no one could deny his effectiveness. He was as strong—if not stronger—than Arnav in his human form. If not for his low birth and lack of a dragon, he might have been considered a suitable match for Princess Cerys.

  Then again, it was rumored that he was already a favorite of hers… at least when it came to serving her in bed. Kohen’s lips pressed into a thin line. The idea of being a sexual servant to the younger princess made his stomach churn, but Higgins? If the rumors were true, it was clear this man had no qualms about dying.

  As the soldiers got closer, Kohen jumped down from his horse, landing lightly on his feet as he moved to greet General Higgins. The general, however, made no such effort. He remained on his horse, looking down at Kohen with an amused smirk.

  “My, my,” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “What is Arnav’s dog doing here? Does your master even know you’ve wandered off?”

  “He does,” Kohen replied with a curt nod. At least… he hoped so.

  Higgins chuckled under his breath and leaned forward, idly stroking his horse’s mane.

  “Honestly, I’m surprised to see you still breathing,” the general admitted casually. “Word reached me that a Salas lord was killed in the King’s front hall. I had assumed it was you meeting your untimely end.”

  Kohen swallowed hard and his throat suddenly went dry. If there had been any lingering doubts about his decision to remain here, they were gone now.

  “If a Salas died, it wasn’t me. It must have been my uncle,” he said, though his voice wavered slightly.

  “I see,” Higgins murmured, watching Kohen closely. Then, in a small, almost mocking nod, he finally dismounted. A young soldier rushed forward to take the reins, and Higgins handed his horse off without so much as a glance. “In that case, I suppose I should extend my congratulations to your father. The new Margrave of Summerfell—what an honor. Which makes you the heir now, doesn’t it? That must feel… rewarding.”

  Kohen barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

  “It’s splendid,” he deadpanned. Instead of staying on the subject, he focused on the gathered soldiers. “How many men did you bring?”

  “And since when did Arnav put you in charge?” Higgins scoffed, resting his hand lazily on the hilt of his sword. “Because last I heard, straight from the King’s mouth, the frontlines are mine to command.”

  “They still are,” Kohen assured him, raising his hands slightly. “I meant no disrespect. I was only asking out of curiosity.”

  Higgins eyed him for a moment, tensing his jaw before exhaling through his nose.

  “How about this,” he said, turning toward the city gates. “You tell me about the state of things here, and if I’m satisfied with your work, I might just let you in on what I’m doing.”

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  Kohen exhaled heavily, holding back the frustrations rising in his chest. He knew exactly where he stood in Arnav’s eyes—lower than Higgins. And if he wanted to keep breathing, he had no choice but to play along. For now, at least, he would serve the general. As he hurried to keep pace with Higgins, he quickly relayed what he knew.

  “Our forces control everything from the city of Walford to the northwestern border. And about nine days ago, we spotted Julian flying overhead. However, there’s been no sign of him returning.”

  Higgins scoffed, slowing down as they approached the city gates.

  “That’s because Arnav killed him,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Cerys carried his head over as proof. And knowing the princess, she probably flew too high for your small eyes to notice. So, what else? You’ve told me nothing I don’t already know.”

  “Right,” Kohen muttered, clearing his throat. “Rhett was spotted flying to Vespera eight days ago. He returned nearly three days later.”

  “I’m not surprised,” the general hummed in thought. “The new king wasted no time running to his allies for help. Did Plymmyswoode report any movement to the north?”

  “None yet,” Kohen answered, but then he remembered something. He quickly dug into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small, rolled letter. “Actually, a messenger pigeon delivered this to Plymmyswoode from Casshire. It states that all Sylvaris soldiers north of the Nocktal Mountains are to report to Jux in two weeks.”

  Higgins took the letter, carefully unrolling it. He scanned the message, and after a brief chuckle, he tossed it back to Kohen.

  “So, Rhett doesn’t know we’re here yet, does he?”

  “I don’t believe so,” Kohen shook his head. “Jux and Walford received similar letters—all ordering their soldiers to report to Jux.”

  “Then we’ll be sure to give Rhett and his men a warm welcome when they arrive,’ Higgins smirked, tapping his fingers idly against the hilt of his sword. “Take me to your war room. I want to look at a map of the surrounding area.”

  “Of course. Follow me.” Kohen motioned for Higgins to enter the city gates with him.

  Inside, the streets were quiet, with only a few soldiers moving along the narrow roads. Once at the castle, Kohen led Higgins through the twisting corridors until they reached the council chamber, which had been converted into their primary planning space.

  He stepped forward, scanning the table before grabbing a large, rolled-up parchment. He unrolled it, smoothing out the creases as he laid it flat in front of Higgins. The general studied the map in silence for several minutes. Then, without a word, he grabbed a handful of wooden markers and placed them strategically across the map. Most were positioned in heavily wooded areas along the roadside between Jux and the river, forming an ambush-like pattern.

  Once satisfied, Higgins straightened and turned to two men who had followed him inside.

  “Take a hundred men,” he ordered. “Separate them into small groups and have them choose a leader amongst themselves. In three hours, I want those leaders brought here for a full briefing. Understood?”

  “Yes, General!” The men saluted before hurrying off to carry out his orders.

  Higgins watched the men depart before turning his attention to Kohen. The young lord looked back at him curiously, but it seemed he had learned his lesson about openly questioning the general. Higgins chuckled, startling Kohen slightly.

  “Do you know what Arnav consistently praises you for?” Higgins inquired with a raised brow. When Kohen shook his head, the general continued. “The king says you’re a quick learner and a people pleaser. Says you’d eat horse shit if he told you to. Though, to be fair, most would if a lava-spewing dragon commanded them. I wouldn’t—but I have standards to uphold. You, though? You’d eat it and ask for seconds.”

  “What’s your point?” Kohen questioned as his jaw tightened. “I like breathing. If swallowing my pride—or worse—keeps me alive another day, then so be it. Not all of us are eager to die in battle or be burned alive by a dragon like you.”

  Higgins smiled, unfazed by Kohen’s irritation.

  “My point is, I see why Arnav tolerates you.” He pulled a chair closer to the table and sat down with a satisfied sigh. “You’re smart, and I can appreciate that. Men like you are why men like me stay alive on the battlefield. Sure, if a sword found my heart, I’d accept my fate and meet the Creators—but I’m far too young and still have plenty to offer Drurus. Don’t you agree?”

  “I do,” Kohen nodded reluctantly.

  “Good.” Higgins leaned back in his chair, draping one arm over the backrest as he studied Kohen. “While I get my hands dirty and bring all the glory back to our king, you shall be here as my eyes and ears. You’ll ensure that the right orders are carried out, that supplies are where they need to be, and that our men remain disciplined. I don’t have time to hold anyone’s hand, and I certainly don’t have time to correct foolish mistakes. That’s your job now.”

  Kohen frowned but remained silent as his hands clenched into fists. Higgins chuckled again, shaking his head.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that. This isn’t a punishment, boy—it’s an opportunity. Wars aren’t won by the strongest swordsman alone. They’re won by the people behind the scenes. You said you like breathing, didn’t you? Then think of this as a way to ensure you keep doing just that.”

  “So, I’m to play the errand boy?” Kohen scowled, crossing his arms.

  “An errand boy? Hardly,” Higgins scoffed. “You’re the one who’ll be keeping this entire operation from crumbling. You’ll be the one who writes back to Casshire, making sure Rhett thinks that Walford, Jux, and Plymmyswoode are obeying his royal commands. And then, when Rhett and the other northern soldiers make their way to Jux, you’re responsible for ensuring they’re met with a timely ambush. Because they will come. And when they do, I expect you to ensure their numbers are widdled down. Because if Rhett and his army get to Jux uninhibited, our Drurus men will suffer. You hesitate, you fumble, and people die. Understood?”

  “I understand,” Kohen nodded.

  “Good.” Higgins pushed himself up from his chair, adjusting the belt at his waist. “Then get to work. Gather the information the ambush groups will need, send out scouts to ensure the locations are good, and ensure our archers have enough ammunition. I want an update on our rations and supply lines by sundown. In the meantime, I’m going to find some young woman and sow my seed. It’s always a goal of mine to leave a bastard child in every place I fight.”

  Without waiting for a response, Higgins walked to the door, briefly glancing over his shoulder before leaving the room.

  “And Kohen?”

  “Yes?”

  “Try not to choke on all that horse shit, will you?”