Chapter 27 · A Warlord's Wager

"You're running the wrong direction."

Aldric's voice cut through the pre-dawn chaos before I saw him. I spun, hand already on my knife, and there he was at the edge of camp with thirty mounted soldiers at his back. Not enough to fight the council's army. Just enough to make me listen.

"We're not running," I said. "We're repositioning."

"To where? The frozen wastes?" He dismounted, boots crunching through snow. "The council's army will be here in two hours. You've got what, forty-three combat-ready troops and a handful of walking wounded?"

"Forty-seven," Virrak said behind me. "And we'll make do."

Aldric ignored him, eyes locked on mine. "You need my troops."

"I don't need anything from you."

"Liar." He stepped closer. Close enough I could see the frost on his collar, smell leather and smoke. "You're good, Korde. Better than I expected. But you can't hold ground you don't have."

"Then what do you want?" I kept my voice flat. "Another favor? My firstborn? The crown when I take it back?"

"I want to see if you're worth the gamble." He pulled something from his belt. A command flag, iron-grey with the Ironvow sigil. "Take my troops. Lead them.