While the voices of soldiers and the clang of metal echoed outside the tent, inside was silent as Astasha processed what it was she was hearing. He couldn’t possibly be serious. Calder couldn’t give up the throne, not now, not ever. It was what he was destined for. If there was anything she was certain of, it was that he would be the greatest ruler Trenue had ever seen. How could he even fathom stepping down? “Tasha…” He tried to pull her closer to him but she stepped away. “No.” It was all she could get herself to say. “It was the only way—“ “There are always other options, Calder.” She could feel the tornado of emotions between the two of them growing but she didn’t know if she could control it. He studied her in silence for a moment before sighing deeply. “When it comes to you, there aren’t. You are my only option, the only one I want, the only thing I need, and if having you, knowing you are safe, being with you, being able to love you without all this shit costs me t

It wasn’t long after Astasha had settled on the bed and meticulously checked every piece of meat and cheese for poison, that she heard voices outside the tent. The conversation between Talib and Calder was short and tepid, very unlike the two. The enemy would have quick work in dividing and conquering them if they did most of it themselves. The thought made Tasha sigh with resignation as she realized this stubborn and haughty approach would do nothing to help her win this fight, with Cal or the Dark Mage. It wasn’t that she was angry with her Prince for making the decision he made. It was that he felt he had to make it at all. She was heartbroken for him, for them. Her anger was designated for all those who had brought him to that conclusion, who had led them to the position they now found themselves in; the High Council, those who had made the laws that governed their love and those who refused to see outside them, her grandmother, and father, the demon, and most of all, the dar

The War Tent felt much smaller with everyone present who was required to be there for strategic meetings. Astasha had spent the better part of the morning being shown around the camp and introduced to many of the leaders and key positions in preparation for it. For the most part, they had all been at least respectful, if not surprisingly kind. Some had even given her gifts of furs or herbs or food. But not all were so welcoming. Now, standing in the confined space of the tent, her senses were on high alert, honed in on those she had already read as potential threats. Thankfully, there were fewer than she had expected, and alone, she didn’t fear them. But with their army of men behind them… she chose not to think about the chaos that could ensue should they choose to end their agreement with the Prince. If Calder was at all nervous, he hid it well, even from her. He stood like a true leader at the front of the congregation, head high, his crest on full display on his tunic. His eyes

Astasha had wanted to stay and begin work on transcribing her memories of the Wind Walking ritual, but her engagement to the Prince meant that her attention now had to be split between her tasks as a sorceress, and that of Calder’s betrothed. And so, she changed into a warm gown with one of the furs gifted to her over her shoulders, and the two headed out toward Kashor’s camp, their Captains at their side. “So, Talib,” she said as they walked. “I believe you owe me a story.” Calder looked at her curiously, his friend awkwardly clearing his throat. “Oh, uh, well, there’s not much to tell honestly. We’d been traveling together on our way here, gettin’ to know each other along the way. One night, we came across some trouble. I uh, might have been caught off guard a bit—“ “A bit?” Laughed Calder. “You were caught with your trousers down, literally!” Astasha tried desperately not to laugh. “Hey, even the Captain of the Prince’s Guard has to attend to personal business from time to t

There was an air of tension about the camp as the mages made preparations for what was now being considered the last opportunity for a fair advantage. While no one had been outwardly informed of what they were doing, whispers ran wild of a delicate and dangerous ritual that could potentially turn the tides. The five sorcerers who would be participating had spent several hours with Astasha going over the details of what it was they were about to attempt, before excusing themselves to gather as much energy as they could hold. An area outside of the camp, near the sorcerers’ lodgings, had been designated for the ritual, and guards posted to ensure no one inadvertently wandered into it, disrupting the carefully drawn runes or buried herbs and stones. Tasha stood overseeing the finishing touches, Olander at her side, as she tried desperately to force down the feeling that had begun to grow in the pit of her stomach. Taking a deep breath, she focused on all the reasons she had given for