Today, only his grandson sat in a chair, his
eyes red-rimmed. A living wraith.
“Food stores?” Aedion asked from the
other side of the table. The general-prince had
seen better days, too. They all had. Every face
in this room had the same bleak, battered
expression.
“We have food for a month at least,”
Darrow said. “But none of that will matter
without anyone to defend the walls.”
Captain Rolfe stepped up to the table. “The
firelances are down to the dregs. We’ll be
lucky if they last through tomorrow.”
“Then we conserve them, too,” Manon
said. “Use them only for any higher-ranking
Valg that make it over the city walls.”
Rolfe nodded. Another man she
begrudgingly admired—though his
swaggering could grate.
It was an effort not to look to the sealed
lily
(lily)
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