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going so far as to throw Aedion behind him,
the Bane roughly passing him along until he
was here, the Crown Prince of Wendlyn
gulping down water by the farthest reaches of
their forces. The prince’s olive skin was
ashen, his Ashryver eyes dim as they
monitored soldiers rushing or trudging past.
“We retreat here, and we stand to be chased
all the way to Orynth.” Aedion’s raw throat
ached with each word.
He had never seen an army so large. Even
at Theralis, all those years ago.
Galan handed Aedion his waterskin, and
Aedion drank deeply. “I will follow you,
cousin, to however this may end, but we
cannot keep this up. Not for another full
night.”
Aedion knew that. Had realized it after the
fighting had continued under cover of
darkness.