“You’re staked.”

“Damn me, I am. Get off me, gods’ pity, you’re crushing my lungs.”

She sucked in breath as she struggled to push her still vibrating body into a sitting position. Ceara simply dropped down to sit in the mud beside her, and the two of them panted and eyed each other.

“You’re a great bitch in battle,” Moira said at length.

“The same to you, with all respect, my lady. I’ve bruises on top of my bruises now, and knots on top of those.”

Moira swiped some of the mud from her face with her forearm. “I wasn’t fresh.”

“That’s true, but I could take you fresh as well.”

“I think you’re right. You won the prize, Ceara, and won it fair. I’m proud to have been bested by you.”

She offered her hand, and after shaking it, raised it high. “Here’s the champion of the hand-to-hand.”

There were cheers, and in the way of women, hugs. But when Ceara offered a hand to help Moira to her feet, Moira waved her off. “I’m just going to sit here another minute, catch my breath. Go on, get your bow. And with that you nor any will best me.”

“It couldn’t be done if we had a thousand years. Your Majesty?”

“Aye? Oh God, I won’t sit easy for a week,” she added, rubbing her sore hip.

“I’ve never been prouder of my queen.”

Moira smiled to herself, then simply sat quiet, taking stock of her aches and pains. Then her gaze was drawn up to the spot where she’d stood with Cian the night before.

And there he was, standing in the gloom and the rain, looking down at her. She could feel the force of him through the distance, the allure he exuded, she thought, as other men never could.

“So what are you looking at?” she said to herself. “Is it amusing to you to see me on my arse in the mud?”

Probably, she decided, and who could blame him? She imagined she made quite the picture.

“We’ll have a match of our own, I’m thinking, sooner or later. Then we’ll see who bests who.”

She pushed herself to her feet, gritted her teeth against the need to limp. So she could walk away steady, and without a backward glance.

Chapter 6

A fter scraping off an acre of mud, Moira joined the others for a strategy session. She walked in at that tenuous point between discussion and argument.

“I’m not saying you can’t handle yourself.” Larkin’s tone as he addressed Blair had taken on that last ragged edge of patience. “I’m saying Hoyt and I can manage this.”

“And I’m saying three would get it done faster than two.”

“What would that be?” Moira asked.

The answer came from several sources, with steadily rising voices.

“I can’t make much of that out.” She held up a hand for peace as she took her seat at the table. “Am I understanding that we’re after sending a party out to set up a base near the battlefield, scouting as they go?”

“With the first troops moving out behind them, in the morning,” Hoyt finished. “We have locations marked where shelter can be found. Here,” he said, tapping the map spread out on the table. “A day’s march east. Then another, a day’s march from that.”

“But the fact is, with Lilith dug in here.” Blair laid her fist on the map. “She’s taken the advantage of primo location and facilities. We can crisscross our bases, establish a kind of jagged front line. But we need to start moving troops, and we need to secure bases for them before we send them out. Not only along the route, but at the best points near the valley.”

“True enough.” Considering, Moira studied the map. She saw how it was meant to work, with daylight jumps from position to position. “Larkin can cover the distance faster than any—we’d agree on that?”

“The way things are. But if we recruited other dragons—”

“Blair, I’ve said that can’t be.”

“Dragons?” Moira held up a hand again to silence Larkin’s interruption. “What do you mean?”

“When Larkin shape-shifts he can communicate, at least on a rudimentary level, with what he becomes,” Blair began.

“Aye. And?”

“So if he calls other dragons when he’s in that form, why couldn’t he convince some of them to follow him—with riders?”

“They’re peaceful, gentle creatures,” Larkin interrupted. “They shouldn’t be drawn into something like this where they could be harmed.”

“Wait, wait.” Rolling it over in her mind, Moira sat back. “Could it be done? I’ve seen some take a baby in as a kind of pet from time to time, but I’ve never heard of anyone riding a full-grown dragon except in stories. If it could be done, it would allow us to travel swiftly, and even by night. And in battle... ”

She broke off when she saw Larkin’s expression. “I’m sorry, truly. But we can’t be sentimental about it. The dragon is a symbol of Geall, and Geall needs its symbols. We ask our people, our women, the young ones, the old ones, to fight and to sacrifice. If such a thing could be done, it should be done.”

“I don’t know if it can be.”

Moira knew when Larkin was being mule-headed. “You’ll need to try. We love our horses, too, Larkin,” Moira reminded him. “But we’ll ride them into this. Now, Hoyt, would you tell me plain, is it best for you and Larkin to go on your own, or for the three of you to do this?”

He looked pained. “Well, you’ve put me between the wolf and the tiger, haven’t you? Larkin’s concerned that Blair’s not fully recovered from the attack.”

“I’m good to go,” she insisted, then punched Larkin—not so lightly—in the arm. “Want to go one-on-one with me, cowboy, and find out?”

“Her ribs still pain her by end of day, and the shoulder that was hurt is weak yet.”

“I’ll show you weak.”

“Now, now, children.” Glenna managed to sound light and sarcastic. “I’m going to stick my neck into this. Blair’s fit for duty. Sorry, honey,” she said to Larkin, “but we really can’t keep her on the disabled list.”

“It would be best if she went.” Hoyt sent a look of sympathy toward Larkin. “With three, we shouldn’t need to be gone more than a day. The first troops could be sent out at first light, and make their way to the first post.”