Six days had become five.
And the witch's mark on my chest burned hotter than ever, like she was laughing while she watched the clock run out.
I woke before the horns sounded again, already bent over the basin, stomach emptying what little I'd ate the previous night. Darius held my hair back caressing me without a word. Kane pushed a cup of water into my hand to rinse. Rylan paced by the window, axe in his grip, staring south like he could will my father's army to disappear.
"Enough," I rasped, wiping my mouth. "We're not doing another dawn scrap on the ridge. He's bleeding us dry with these little hits and we're letting him."
Darius's palm settled low on my belly, warm and steady. The flutter answered, stronger this morning. "Then we change the game. Tonight. Small team. We go for your father directly."
