WE MADE OUR WAY TO the stronghold and found the gates open. Ditra’s company was the last to return, and the guards on the wall looked relieved when she ordered them to close the gates after we had entered. She had ordered the rest of her troops to divide and make their way back through the city piecemeal, like the squadron we had rescued before meeting her. The rangers had held the trolls off as long as they could to give the rest time to get away.

The moment we had entered the keep, Ditra turned to Maia. “Summon my councilors to the audience chamber immediately.”

“At once, Rangatira.” Maia gave us a half-smile and a quick nod before darting off to do as she said. It left the three of us standing in the center of the bailey, crowds milling around us, while Ditra studied Mag and me.

“If you would like—” I began.

“What? You could attend my council?” said Ditra. “How very magnanimous of you. But I do not require the advice of prisoners pressed into service for battle.”

“We could save lives.” I pointed back towards the city. “We already did. Rangatira,” I added, after just a moment’s too much hesitation.

“Then when it comes to battle again, I will summon you,” she said. “But you will pardon me if I do not consider your advice more useful than my advisors who have lived here their whole lives, and know our situation better.”

I bit back the argument that sprang to my lips. She was not wrong. I might have been her younger brother, but we were no longer children, and it was not my place to countermand her, no matter how I hated to hear the word useful on her lips. “As you wish, Rangatira.”

For a moment I thought I saw her expression soften. But she only turned away to stride off towards the keep.

“A shame,” said Mag. “I had hoped the prospect of nearly dying in battle might have bridged at least some of the rift between you.”

“Believe me, that was a far more civil conversation than our last,” I said. “Let us find Dryleaf and wait. Ditra may not want us to attend her council, but I want to know what is going on the second she comes out to tell everyone.”

Ditra strode into her audience chamber, pulling her leather gauntlets off. She winced as she flexed her fingers. They had gripped her axe and shield so tightly that she could hardly feel them now. For a moment she bent and uncurled them while she looked around the chamber. It had been empty of guards, but they were filing back in now as their lord prepared for her meeting.

She noticed something odd. The guards were filing in from the back of the room, from the stairway leading up to the nobility’s living quarters. They should have been out in the main bailey, directing the influx of citizens being pressed into fighting service. Ditra supposed they must have been drawn up to the walls to coordinate their defense, and taken the shorter route down to the council room. But she shrugged off such thoughts as Maia came hurrying up, nodding briskly to her.

“Everyone—“

“Vera,” said Ditra. “Did you check on her?”

He nodded. “She is safe. Her guards have not left their post since you sent them there.”

“Good. What else?”

“Everyone is here. All the captains, and the king’s representative.”

“Is she still here?” said Ditra with faint surprise. “I half thought she might try to sneak out with the refugees.”

Maia hid a smile, though it seemed a near thing. “She still has time. Many are still gathering to flee the city.”

Ditra nodded and went to her chair. The councilors gathered around the dais, looking up at her with stern, impassive faces. She saw no sign of eagerness in them, but neither did she see any doubt. They were ready to serve their lord.

“The trolls will not give us much time to rest,” said Ditra. “They are looting the lower city now, but it is only a matter of time before they push towards the stronghold. We must discuss the strategy of our defense.”

Callen, the king’s representative, took a hesitant step forwards. Her tongue crept out to moisten cracked lips. “Can we even hope to defend against them?”

“We have no choice but to do so,” said Ditra.

“Your forces have never faced so many,” said Callen. “Without reinforcements from the king—”

“The king has sent soldiers and oil in support,” said Ditra. “But the trolls attacked earlier than we thought they would, and it seems their strategy is to overwhelm us before any help can arrive.”

“Strategy?” scoffed Callen. “They are trolls! They barely have—”

Ditra stood from her chair. Every ranger in the room bowed their head. Callen fell silent, eyes wide.

“They have pushed into our territory. They have avoided our rangers at every turn. They even misled our scouts into believing they would attack at least a week later than they have. You do yourself no favors by assuming them to be mindless beasts, and you serve your Rangatira not at all.”

“O-of course,” stammered Callen. “Forgive me, Rangatira. But if the king’s forces may not even be coming, mayhap we should flee with the rest, for I do not see how we can defend Kahaunga forever.”

“The king has sent their army. We might be able to hold the walls until it arrives, or we might not. We cannot know for certain. But we do know that we cannot abandon Kahaunga. If the trolls face no opposition here, they will simply chase our people into the pass, where they will find them defenseless, and slaughter them. We who remain here are a rearguard, to ensure that does not happen.”

“You mean we remain here to die!” said Callen. “You have no hope or plan of escape!”

Ditra’s anger bubbled up, threatening to burst. But before it could, Maia stepped from her side to face Callen from a pace away.

“I have no intention of dying in Kahaunga,” said Maia. “But I will happily throw you over the wall to our enemies, if you see nothing but death in your future.”

Callen took a step back. Ditra noticed that the guards at the edge of the room had pressed forwards, as if they were ready to intervene if things should come to a fight. Fools, she thought irritably. Callen would never dare to raise a hand against Maia—and if she did, he would have her on the floor faster than blinking.

“I have no wish to die,” said Callen, making an impressive attempt to rally. “That is why I counsel against this foolish course.”

“You serve me, and through me, the king of Calentin,” said Ditra, letting an edge creep into her voice. “If you think you serve us best by fleeing with the rest of the city’s people, then by all means, do so. Return to the king in Tara and tell them what transpired here. But if you do not wish to die, you might find that a foolish course of action. They have no great love for cowards.”

Callen took several deep breaths, each time seeming as if she was about to say something. Her eyes flew wildly about, as if searching for any words that she thought might spare her. At last she shook her head and gave a hasty bow with her fist raised.

“I … I think I will retire to my chambers. A new missive must be written and sent to the king about our situation, and I should send it along before all the city’s residents have passed us by.”

Ditra nodded in approval. Callen turned and began to push through the rangers on her way to the door, while Maia looked up and gave Ditra a wry look. She knew they were both thinking the same thing: Callen would doubtless decide at the last minute to deliver the message herself. She would be gone before nightfall.

Callen reached the back of the crowd, but suddenly she pulled up short before two of the room’s guards. Ditra frowned as she realized the guards had come even closer than before. Now the twelve of them nearly surrounded Ditra, Maia, and the six ranger captains that served on her council.

“What in the dark below are you doing?” Ditra barked. “Move aside and let her pass.”

The air filled with the hiss of drawn steel as the guards unsheathed their weapons.