The mountain air felt impossibly heavy as I stood in the staging area, watching warriors check their weapons one last time. My hand rested protectively over my stomach, the lightweight tactical vest pressing against my barely visible baby bump.
"Are you sure about this?" Kaelen asked for what must have been the twentieth time, his green eyes searching mine.
"I'm sure," I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. "I need to be there."
A warrior approached, handing Kaelen a satellite phone. He stepped away to take the call, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The reality of what we were about to do crashed over me in waves. We were going to confront Archduke Malakor—my uncle, the man who had orchestrated my entire existence for his twisted plans.
Kaelen returned, his expression grim. "Intel confirms Malakor is on-site. All units are in position."
My heart pounded against my ribs. "How long until we move out?"
"Twenty minutes."
