She scoped the fields below and noted the impressive expanse of tents crawling with the ferocious bird-masked warriors from Astonia. She saw tanks and cannons, and even from her vantage point she could make out the imposing mounted grenade launchers that would have made her giddy had they been her own. The enemy’s firepower was nearly as impressive as their ranks.

Her troops had weaponry as well, but they had to be cautious in utilizing it. They had Charlie to think of.

Charlie was in there, somewhere in that labyrinth of shelters. They couldn’t just roll in, guns blazing, or they’d risk catching her in the cross fire.

No, this would have to be an operation built on tactics. She and Max had been trying to formulate a plan in which they could pinpoint Charlie’s location and infiltrate the camp to rescue her.

Which meant taking their time. Studying the comings and goings of the soldiers down there. Figuring out where Charlie might be.

She only hoped they didn’t have to wait too long. And she hoped, for all their sakes, that Charlie was still alive. “Anything yet?” Max eased down beside her where she was crouched in the darkness, his voice soft and low, and filled with that same note of fear she heard every time he spoke.

Brooklynn sighed, giving him the same answer she’d given the last time he’d asked, and the time before that. “Nothing. There was some movement about an hour ago, centered right about there.” She passed him the binoculars and pointed to a tent near the middle, near what they suspected was the command tent—the nerve center of Elena’s operation. “But it was dark, and it all happened so quickly, I couldn’t see what they were moving. Whatever it was, I doubt it was a person, because it didn’t move at all.” She paused, and then added pensively, “Unless . . .”

Max stiffened. “Don’t do that,” he insisted, almost as much to himself as to her. “She’s fine. I know she is.”

Brook nodded, shaking off the thought. “You’re right,” she agreed.

He handed back the binoculars, his voice heavy. “How much longer do you think we can wait?”

Brook reflected on that as she took the binoculars and surveyed the camp again, stopping here and there. She didn’t say anything, and Max didn’t press her. It was a good question, one that they’d asked each other too many times already. And one that neither of them had an answer for.

Too soon, and they risked putting Charlie in harm’s way.

Too long, and they risked that Elena would kill her.

It was a fine line they walked.

Brook inhaled, and was just about to lower the binoculars, when she saw something at the far end of the encampment. A flicker of something, or a flash. Like an explosion.

Exactly like an explosion.

It was followed almost immediately by another. And then another.

The sounds were muffled, because they were so far away, but they were undeniable.

She lowered the binoculars when she realized she didn’t need them. The detonations were clear, briefly banishing the darkness. They continued, one after the other, blasting the outer perimeter of the tents, which caught on fire, one by one, on the opposite side of camp from them. “You’re seeing this, right?” she asked Max, who was already getting to his feet.

She stood now too, her eyes wide as she tried to make sense of it.

The entire camp seemed to come awake then, sleeping giants prodded by an invisible attacker in the night. Soldiers emerged from their tents half-dressed and carrying lit torches. Fires ignited and weapons detonated as Elena’s soldiers returned fire.

Within a matter of seconds the field before them was ablaze in flames and flashes and flares. There were shouts and shrieks and bellowed commands that managed to reach all the way into the hills.

“Who is that?” Brook asked, knowing that Max didn’t have an answer for her. She lifted the binoculars again, straining to see who had beat them to the punch and started a battle against Elena’s troops. Another battalion of her own soldiers? Civilian militia?

She had no idea. It was too dark to make out the attackers from here.

But Max was already heading back toward their own, much smaller and much less impressive encampment. “It doesn’t really matter, I guess. We need to get down there and save Charlie. Now.”

XVI

Somewhere in my well of despair, the vacuum in which I existed—just me and the nothingness that tried to engulf me, sucking and pulling at me until I was raw and hopeless and ravaged—a sound emerged.

It was loud, and it shook the ground beneath me, which was already shaky at best. The sound was crisp and clear, however, and penetrated my misery, reminding me I was still alive. Still breathing. Still whole.

I blinked, but it was dark inside my tent, and despite the fact that I’d been glowing every day for months since Sabara had taken up residence with me, I didn’t now. At least not enough to crack the blackness of the night.

But something did.

Something beyond the thick canvas walls of my enclosure. And one sound became another, became another, as the bangs and blasts grew louder and closer and brighter. There’s fire out there, I thought absently. Fire and bombs.

Still, I didn’t rouse, because my heart was too heavy with ache. My hands were no longer bound, I realized in that moment, the first real moment of lucid thought I’d had about my surroundings. Apparently, a queen with no will to live was no threat to escape.

They were right, of course. I hadn’t even considered trying to flee.

If there was the slightest chance I could actually reach them—either Niko or Elena—with some sort of weapon. If I could find a way to eviscerate them with my bare hands . . . Well, that might give me some reason to try, I thought, the sliver of a smile finding my lips. Also, my skin shone just the tiniest bit at the idea of the two of them disemboweled. But since that idea seemed improbable, what with the constant contingent of guards following them wherever they went, there was no point attempting it.