Chapter 8 · The Hidden Heir

"You don't get to lock me out of my own fortress."

I slammed both palms onto the command table. The blackstone map split beneath them, glowing red along every wall of Hollowglass Bastion.

Rafe stood across from me, one hand braced against the table, the other wrapped around his dagger. His jaw looked hard enough to crack teeth.

"I didn't lock you out," he said. "I ordered the gates sealed."

"Without telling me?"

"You were in the east tower with half the garrison and no armor."

"I was moving the garrison before your scouts crawled back with the news." I shoved the map toward him. "The Imperial fleet isn't waiting outside to negotiate. They've already dropped their siege anchors."

A horn blasted from the upper wall.

Dust shook loose from the ceiling. Soldiers shouted somewhere above us. Metal groaned against stone.

Rafe's eyes cut upward. "How many?"

"Thirty-two ships. Six heavy carriers. Three signal barges. The rest are fast cutters." I stabbed a finger at the eastern edge of the map. "The carriers are sitting outside cannon range because they want us to waste our first volley. After dark, the cutters will come in through the lower vents.