Kaelen's POV.
The fires of Oakhaven's outskirts were creeping closer to the capital with every passing hour. The Blue Moon pack was tearing through the countryside.
"They've taken the southern granaries," General Marcus reported, slamming a fist onto the table. "Admiral Vane has three thousand heavy cavalry moving toward the East Gate. If they link up with the remnants of Hecate's Northern rebels, we are finished."
"They won't link up," I said, my voice cutting through the panic. I pointed to the map. "Because we aren't going to wait for them to meet. We are splitting the army."
"Split the army?" Fenrir asked, stepping out of the dark. He looked hollow, his eyes sunken. "We are already outnumbered three to one. If we split, we die in two places instead of one."
"We split or we get crushed in a pincer," I said. "Fenrir, you take the Black Legion and the heavy infantry, you march North. Hecate is regrouping at the coast. If you break her now, the Northern rebels will lose heart and desert the Blue Moon's alliance."
"And the south?" Fenrir asked. "Who holds the Blue Moon's elite? Who stops your father from walking through the front door?"
"I do," I said.
The room went silent. Marcus looked at me like I had grown a second head. Fenrir walked to the table, his hands flat on the parchment. "You? You're an Omega with a handful of City Guard and the survivors of the mutiny. You can't hold the line against Vane's cavalry."
"I don't need to hold the line. I just need to delay them," I said. "I know the Blue Moon's formations, meaning I know how they think. I can lead them into the marshlands where their heavy horses are useless. By the time they realize I've led them into a swamp, you'll have crushed Hecate and returned with the reinforcements."
"It's suicide," Fenrir whispered. "Vane won't take you prisoner, Linus. He'll execute you on the spot for treason against your father."
"Then I'll make sure I'm hard to catch," I said. I looked at the generals. "Move, now! Every minute we waste arguing is another mile of Iron Fang soil turned to ash."
The generals cleared the room, leaving me alone with Fenrir. The silence filled the room, charged with the jagged tension of the last few days.
"You're doing this because you think I want you dead," Fenrir said.
"I'm doing this because it's the only way you keep your throne," I replied, not looking at him. I began to buckle on my leather bracers. "You hate me, Fenrir. That hasn't changed. But you need me to save your Empire one last time."
Fenrir grabbed my arm, softly. "I never said I wanted you to die for it."
"You said you'd never forgive me. This is the price of that lack of forgiveness," I said, finally meeting his gaze. "If I don't come back, the Empire is clean of the 'Blue Moon Demon.' You can be the hero who saved the people from his own mad consort. It's a perfect ending for you."
"Linus, stop it."
"Go North, Fenrir. Win your war. I'll handle mine."
I pulled away and walked toward the door.
I didn't look back. If I looked back, the Kaelen inside me, the King who had led multitudes out of war, the king who ruled with fear and not compassion, would have crumbled.
The southern front was a nightmare of mud and screaming men.
I had led my men into the Sinking Marshes, just as I had planned. The heavy cavalry of Admiral Vane was bogged down, the horses sinking to their knees in the black muck.
"Keep the archers on the ridges!" I shouted, parrying a spear thrust from a Blue Moon scout. "Don't let them regroup! Fire and move!"
We were winning, but the cost was astronomical. My units were being picked apart. The Blue Moon soldiers fought relentlessly.
"Regent! To the left!" Torin screamed.
A fresh unit of Blue Moon shock troops burst through the reeds. They were heading straight for my position on the hill.
"Form a circle!" I commanded, drawing both my blades.
The clash was brutal.
"Kill the men! Capture the Prince!" a voice roared through the fog.
Admiral Vane stepped into the clearing. He wasn't on a horse. He was covered in mud, his face a mask of fury. He held a heavy mace, the head of it stained with the blood of my guards.
"You've been a very expensive disappointment, Linus," Vane spat.
I was surrounded. Torin was down, clutching a wound in his side. My men were being slaughtered.
"You traitor," Vane said.
He lunged. I dodged the first swing of the mace, the weight of it shattering a stone behind me. I slashed his thigh, drawing blood, but he didn't even flinch. He backhanded me with his gauntleted fist, and it was like the world spun around.
I hit the mud, my swords slipping from my hands. I tried to crawl, but a heavy boot slammed into my back, pinning me down.
"Chain him," Vane commanded. "The King wants him alive for the execution. He wants the Iron Fang to watch as their 'Regent' is flayed alive on the border bridge."
I felt the cold bite of iron shackles around my wrists. My face was pressed into the freezing muck.
Through the bond, I felt a scream of pure, unadulterated agony.
Fenrir.
"Fenrir..." I whispered into the mud.
"He can't hear you, little prince." Vane said, hauling me up by my hair. "And by the time he reaches you, there won't be enough of you left to bury."
"Throw him in the cage," Vane ordered. "We move for the border at dawn."