“I have every faith that you will turn the tide back in our favor with your new plan,” Xannirin stated.

I grunted, tracing the edge of my lip with the tip of my finger, losing myself to battle plans and army structures. “Any word from Koron Stadiel and Korona Iaoth?”

“Their monthly taunt of surrender arrived this morning.” Xannirin dropped his feet from the desk before slipping a paper from his stack and tossing it in my direction.

I caught it with one hand before righting it and skimming. “I liked it better when we were sending the taunts to those fanatics who sit upon their white feather thrones like they are better than us,” I growled, folding up the paper and sending it flying back to the Kral.

“As did I. Make it happen, Rokath.” Xannirin paused for a moment, gazing out the windows and into the world beyond. In the distance, the Skala Mountains that divided the continent waited, a stone wall crossing its back like the spikes on a Dragon Shifter’s back. Between the foreboding peaks and the city, rolling hills provided plenty of vantage points to see far into the distance. Beyond the valley, a vast expanse of desert waited to claim the life of anyone foolish enough to enter it without plenty of water.

That wasteland to the north was one of the capital’s greatest defenses. Situated on a plateau thousands of miles above sea level, the Paks Desert was as deadly as it was beautiful. Few managed to survive the harsh climates, and any semblance of civilization was situated on the few oases that dotted the landscape. Food in the capital needed to be imported from the fertile southern plains because of the lack of farmable land nearby.

“What else?” I asked my cousin.

“The nobles are…restless. Especially now that House Turrokar, or who remains of it, has been forced to retreat here,” Xannirin admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

I gritted my teeth as the memory of escorting them from their sprawling estate in the sandy marshes on the northwestern shores surfaced. On that day, I had decided we needed to conscript enough males to more than replenish those we had lost in the plague. Retreating from the Angel’s advance irked me to no end, and I wanted—needed—to turn this fucking war around.

I rubbed my jaw to loosen the tension held there. “Why didn’t you tell me this before? I would have returned sooner.”

“Because you would have tried to fix everything right then and there and made it worse. You handle the killing, I handle the politics,” he reminded me. That had been our agreement from the beginning. I hated politics because I hated most people. But if the nobles were losing support for the war effort, losing belief in the tales we’d spun…then it was necessary for me to step in and remind them exactly who I was.

First, the sloppy guards, now the mouthy nobles. This was what happened when I spent too long away from here—discipline flew off into the mountains and did not return until I did.

Grasping my helmet, I rose, my legs protesting the moment I was on my feet. “If anyone gives you any trouble, you know where to find me.”

“Will that be in your room in the palace then?” Xannirin grinned, rounding his desk and leaning on it while he watched me don my armor.

“If it pleases you, I’ll stay in the palace while I am in the capital,” I grumbled. I couldn’t lie, though. The running water and my expansive feather mattress was a perk I missed while living in a war camp.

Xannirin knew that too. “Go get cleaned up and we shall dine together tonight.”

“On food or on pussy?” I asked, pulling the horned skull helmet over my head.

“What do you think?” he snorted.

“Both.” With a sharp whistle, Grem and Zeec were on their feet and ready to patrol the halls with me.

As I opened the door, my cousin called, “Bring the dogs!”

I rolled my eyes and walked out of his office, not bothering to respond.

My rooms were exactly as I had left them on my previous visit over the winter, though it appeared the maids had entered on a few occasions to clean and tidy up. The papers on the desk in the corner were still haphazardly tossed about, but the chair was neatly tucked in. The sitting area still had an abundance of blankets and pillows, but they had been neatly folded and arranged. The cushions for my hounds sat squarely against the wall of books on military history and strategies from all the continents of Ravasz, but the pile of chews remained in the center, untouched. Grem and Zeec bounded forward and grabbed one each before plopping down to gnaw on them.

Leaving them to relax, I entered the sleeping chamber and strode toward the mannequin in a corner. The first item removed from my body was the horned ebony helmet, and after settling it in place, I began unbuckling the straps to the rest of my black armor. Every piece of metal that slid from my body was secured with the utmost care around the stuffed fabric. Appearances were important, and I had this set made especially for intimidation. A scuff or a scratch would only serve to make people think I was weak, and I was anything but. They could underestimate me at their own peril.

When I was down to my under clothes, I kicked off my boots and strode toward the attached bathing chamber. Months of excessive sweat and grime needed to be washed away.

A sunken tub centered the space, large enough to seat at least four Demons comfortably, and six if everyone was in a particular mood. Thankfully, Olrith wasn’t waiting for me, and I was blissfully alone. That was the problem with war camps, one was never truly alone, at least physically. Messengers were constantly dipping in and out of my tent, relaying movement reports from scouts, asking for assistance on trivial matters that should have been handled by my lower ranked officers, or to inform me that it was time to strategize on our next attack.

Turning the taps, I let the water splash into the bottom of the tub, the sound filling me with a sense of peace. It would be a while before it was filled enough for me to enjoy, so I stepped toward the vanity, where a bowl of cool water, a sharp razor, towels, and soaps were neatly arranged, as if the maids had been in here only hours before preparing for my arrival. Which, knowing Xannirin, they likely had.

Picking up the blade, I examined its edges, pleased when I saw that it had been recently sharpened. The wood handle was smooth beneath my calluses as I flipped it around and leaned toward the mirror. Splashing some of the water from the bowl over my head, I began to shave. After the second swipe, I dipped the blade into the bowl of water, cleaning it, before continuing my ritual.

The tattoos on my scalp sharpened as the pricks of hair were removed, and once I had finished my first pass, I turned my head this way and that, ensuring that I hadn’t missed a single spot. The twin snakes on either side of my head flashed their fangs, while the three crows that flew down the center of my head melted into an intricate design that dripped down my temples and disappeared around my ears. I left the hair coating my jaw alone, letting it add to the intensity of my look. Burgundy eyes flashed in the light as I backed away from the mirror and yanked my tunic overhead, letting it fall to the floor as I returned to the tub.

It was nearly full, and I ceased the flow of water. Stripping the rest of my clothes away, I stepped one foot in, then the other, nearly groaning as the heat sank into my bones and chased away the lingering soreness in my muscles. The bathing room remained cool from its stone interior, from the polished floor to the walls. Even the ceiling was made of some type of stone, though it was high enough that I’d never paid it much attention other than to gaze out of the skylights.

The perk of being the Kral’s cousin was a favorable location in Gyor Palace, and the rear top corner was as good as it got. The only other rooms along this hall belonged to Xannirin himself.