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seemed he’d learned a thing or two in the
grim years since. “Not many, thank the gods.
Two hundred at most.”
The soft voice was deceptive—Aedion had
learned that these weeks. Perhaps a weapon in
its own right, to make people believe him
gentle-hearted and weak. To mask the sharp
mind and sharper instincts behind it.
“And your flank?” Aedion asked Ren.
Ren ran a hand through his dark hair, mud
crumbling away. “One hundred fifty, if that.”
Aedion nodded. Far better than he’d
anticipated. The lines had held, thanks to the
Bane he’d interspersed amongst them. The
Valg had tried to maintain order, yet once
human blood began spilling, they had
descended into battle lust and lost control,
despite the screaming of their commanders.
All Valg grunts, no princes among them.
He knew it wasn’t a blessing.