"We don't have long." Her voice carried the rasp of someone who had slept too little. "The Varzadians sent riders after the night assault. Reinforcements will be marching hard."
"Hours, not days." Josephine joined them, arms overhead in a languid stretch that popped three joints in her back. She grinned at Lyan's quick glance, then dropped her arms, emerald eyes sharpening. "They'll expect we dig in, repair walls, beg for Prince William to catch up."
"Which means we do the opposite." Lyan's tone settled into that calm command he saved for maps and imminent danger. "Fortress Eboncliff. Hit fast, hold faster."
Belle padded up, still shrugging into her emerald cloak. Her hair, loosened for sleep, now framed her face in soft waves. She caught Lyan's eye and offered a single nod. "I'll need two scout pairs and six smoke pots. Enemy patrols are thin west of the limestone outcrop—easy to mislead."
