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battlement wall that was not coated in black
or red gore. “The foot soldiers got hit hardest;
the Darghan remain mostly intact.”
Rowan nodded. Impressive—more than
impressive. The khagan’s army had been a
beautifully coordinated force, moving across
the plain as if they were farmers reaping
wheat. Had he not been swept into the dance
of battle, he might have stopped to marvel at
them.
The princess turned to Chaol, seated in a
wheeled chair, his face grim. “On your end?”
Chaol glanced to his father, who observed
the battlefield with crossed arms. His father
said without looking at them, “Many. We’ll
leave it at that.”
Pain seemed to flicker in the bastard’s
eyes, but he said nothing more.
Chaol gave Hasar an apologetic frown, his
hands tightening on the chair’s arms. The