Page 130 of Fallen Nocturne

“Your brother, Mavren Aldrath Malgoth, stands on the other side,” Rainer says sharply. “Why pledge yourself to us? Your people have no love for elves.”

The orc’s voice doesn’t change. “My brother makes his own decisions. I make mine, as do the five hundred warriors who followed me here.”

His gaze shifts toward the shadows, toward Arescaine. “He saved their lives during the rebellion. We owe him a debt, and orcs do not forget their debts.”

I look at Arescaine. He stands quietly at the edge of the room, his presence as calm and steady as the shadows around him.

Vayne looks back at me. “We’re not as numerous as the fae forces, but orcs don’t break easily. We can hold a line.”

Rainer studies the Orc Prince for a moment, then gives a reluctant nod. “Five hundred orcs could make the difference between holding the center and watching it collapse.”

“General Thanatos commands the mammoths and the direwolves. Once he breaks your lines, the berserkers of Hel will pour through the gap like a flood. The berserkers feel no pain, no fear. They’ll kill until they’re killed.”

“What of Finnbheara?” I ask quietly.

Vayne’s expression darkens. “The prince will wait. He’ll hold back Sanguisyl and his personal guard until your forces are exhausted and your reserves committed.”

Even if we could win, he’ll unleash that monster of a wyvern and end everything in seconds.

“I’ll begin the summoning rituals immediately.” I look at Siofra. “Gather our mages. I’ll need them to anchor the summoning circles and maintain the bindings while the creatures cross over.”

Blaire leans closer to the map. “What of the dwarven war machines? The siege weapons they’re bringing?”

She’s not looking at Vayne, but the question is clearly directed at him. He turns toward her, but she keeps her gaze fixed firmly on the map.

“My warriors know how to disable them,” Vayne answers quietly. “If we can get close enough.”

He accepts Blaire’s refusal to look at him and buries his reaction beneath a mask of stoic composure. Whatever happened between the orc rebellion and her rescue left wounds that have not begun to heal.

“I’ll oversee the fortifications,” Aelfric volunteers. “We can’t fight them on completely open ground. I’ll take teams out to the Plateau now, start digging trenches, raising palisades, anything to slow down those mammoths.”

“Do it. Take whatever resources you need,” I say.

Aelfric bows. “I’ll leave within the hour.”

Lord Wesley and Lord Nemarion do the same. I see the determination in their eyes. They are ready to die if that is what this battle demands of them.

One by one, the Aldarelf commanders step forward. Some pledge their household guards. Others offer archers, healers, mages, every available Noctral, and every able-bodied warrior under their command. No one speaks of surrender. No one asks what will happen if we lose.

They already know.

“Prepare your forces,” I tell them. “Make certain every soldier understands the plan before we march.”

Chairs scrape across the floor as the commanders rise. The room empties in a steady stream of armor, cloaks, and grim faces until only my closest circle remains.

“Your Highness,” Vayne says, his deep voice respectful but firm. “My warriors and I will fight to our last breath. You have my word as Prince of Myrkheim.”

Blaire flinches at his words but doesn’t look at him. Her knuckles are white where she grips the edge of the table.

“You have my gratitude, Prince Vayne,” I say, and he bows before leaving with the others.

It is almost too much to bear. All these people willing to sacrifice everything for the kingdom. They would march into fire because they trust their queen. I cannot afford to fail them.

The mate bond between me and Landon thrums painfully in my chest. It pulls at me like a fishhook in my heart. I press my hand against it, willing the pain away. But it doesn’t fade.

“Rhianelle?” Rainer’s voice sharpens. “What’s wrong?”

Pain tears through the bond so violently that my knees buckle.