Chapter 19: No Colors

Nerys's POV

I had my boots on and a sword in my hand before Madoc finished buckling his coat.

Hild stood in the door of the tent.

Past her I could see a long ragged line of torches on the ridge above us, coming down.

"How many?" Madoc said.

"Eighty, maybe. No colors."

"No colors."

"They've stripped the crests off. Cloaks, helmets, everything."

"Then they know the treaty."

Madoc's face went calm in a way that frightened me.

"Wake the camp. Women and children to the back of the ridge. Nobody shifts until I say."

"And the Gathering?"

"The Gathering can see what the king does when he thinks no one is looking."

Hild grinned, showing teeth, and went.

I looked at the fresh mark on his neck.

It was dark and swollen, and the blood had dried in a trail down his collar.

"You're hurt," I said.

"I'm happy."

"Madoc."

"It's a very good wound." He took the axe from the tent pole. "Stay behind me."

"No."

"Nerys."

"I was first overall," I said. "You can stand beside me, or you can stand in my way."

He looked at me for exactly one heartbeat.

Then he put his back to mine and stepped out into the dark.

The first wave came down the slope in silence, with swords out.

The lycans met them at the cookfires without a shout.

Steel rang.

A man in a plain gray cloak lunged at me.

I turned his blade off my own, stepped in, and put the pommel into his throat.

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