[This post is from Thom’s point of view.]
Sif watched him as he climbed, watched him as he got situated in his spot overlooking the wall. One brow arched delicately as she studied him.
“Do you actually mean to negotiate with them from there?” she asked, her tone mild.
“I just want to be able to see them coming,” Thom admitted. It took a moment for him to realize that she’d assumed he was climbing up so he could negotiate because he hadn’t brought any ranged weapons up onto the wall with him.
Matt never did, either, but somehow he was always up here on the wall.
The thought stung more than it had any right to. Thom felt a pang of regret.
Avenge us, Matt, if we die here today. Avenge us. Save what’s left.
Don’t let it all end with us.
His throat grew tight and not for the first time, he hoped his wife was right when she’d said that wherever Matt was, it was likely he was safe—it was likely that Hecate wouldn’t hurt him.
He wished Matt was there with them, though. He wished Cameron had already returned—half wished Cameron had gone on his errand long ago and returned in equal measure.
He wished a lot of things, most of them useless, the side-effect of a man staring down the barrel of a proverbial gun, playing Russian Roulette with dozens of lives, not knowing if there was a bullet in the chamber or not.
“Do you see anything?”
“Not yet,” Sif said.
But they heard them—heard the drums that grew nearer.
It couldn’t be long now.
It wouldn’t be long now.
“A mile out.”
It was Carolyn’s voice. Thom twisted to look down at her, saw the grim set of her jaw and the barest glimmer of green-blue light near her shoulder. He swallowed past the tightness in his throat.
“They looked?”
She nodded. “It’s a big army, Thom.”
Thom’s jaw tightened and he nodded. “I thought it might be.”
“Tell me you have a plan,” she said, her voice pitched just loud enough for him to hear.
Further down the wall, the archers from the Wild Hunt were getting into position. Leinth and Seamus were heading toward the gate, their heads bent close in conference as they walked, their fingers laced through each other’s in a quiet sort of intimacy.
Thom’s heart gave a painful squeeze.
“We’ll think of something,” he murmured. “We always do.”
Carolyn’s lips thinned, but she nodded.
“I trust you,” she said softly. “We trust you.”
The words were meant to be reassuring.
They weren’t.
