RAVYN'S POV
The silence that followed the sharp command was thunderous. All heads, dancers and servants alike, turned toward the soldiers' side of the courtyard, where the source of the furious voice had erupted like a whip crack in the wind.
It was the Commander.
He stood now—not seated any longer under the black umbrella—but on his feet, towering over his men with barely restrained fury etched into every line of his body. His voice carried again, slicing through the heavy courtyard heat like steel.
"You call that formation? I've seen crooked fences with better alignment than this!" His voice thundered, drawing every wandering gaze. "Were you planning to trip over your own feet mid-battle, or will you wait until your brothers are slaughtered before you figure out how to stand like warriors?"
