"We've got important news to share with you all."

Despite how he estimated a number of maybe three hundred soldiers in the enormous cave, Gregor thought he'd hear a pin drop after Ripred's announcement. He exchanged a glance with Mareth and Perdita to his left and remembered Ruvin behind him.

Before Gregor had arrived back, Ripred had called together the Captains as he had announced, asking them to assemble as many soldiers as they possibly could without informing Solovet. They all had exchanged concerned looks, yet surprisingly, nobody had asked why she was not to be invited. Meanwhile, Thanatos had gone out to patrol for intruders and keep an eye on Ajax. Henry had to be around here somewhere too, Gregor thought, but he couldn't immediately spot the outcast.

"Or actually, it's not really me," Ripred stepped aside and a collective murmur went through the assembly. "It's her."

"Queen Luxa . . ." Aghast and disbelieving cries rang out. "It is the queen . . . has Solovet not claimed she was lost?"

"Solovet indeed has," spoke Luxa, and the cave fell silent again in an instant. Countless eyes gazed at them, some with fear and worry, some with new-found hope. "Yet Solovet cannot be trusted."

An uproar went through the assembly and a nervous shiver ran down Gregor's spine. Hadn't Ripred said they shouldn't publicly announce Solovet's betrayal to avoid inner turmoil?

"I know this may come as a surprise to most of you." Ripred stepped at Luxa's side. "And it is quite the hard lump to swallow—that your own commander's supposed to have betrayed you. But it was no other than she who attempted to kill your queen here before so conveniently announcing her passing."

An even louder uproar went through the assembly; now the emotions Gregor made out most prominently were desperation and disbelief.

"I confirm this to be true," Luxa spoke again, and this time it took longer for the murmur to die down. "I narrowly escaped. Had Ripred and the Death Rider not aided me, both Aurora and I would have truly been lost."

Only then did Gregor spot Henry; he stood with a group of people all clad in a more or less uniform type of armor and he wondered if they all had the same rank. Maybe they were the Lieutenants?

Singular cries could be heard above the collective mumble, cries for an explanation, for Solovet's true agenda. Yet Luxa silenced them with the raising of her hand. In brief words, she reiterated what Solovet had explained—her resentment for the humans' unwillingness to use the plague she had created and how she felt betrayed by their calling it a crime. "She wishes to win this war, but she would wipe out everything in her path mercilessly to do so. Including . . . you all, it seems."

The cave was dead still; Gregor's hand, which he had tightened around the handle of his sword, clenched harder.

"But . . . what are we to do?" a young girl suddenly cried; Gregor spotted her when she pushed forward between the other soldiers and he reckoned she could not be more than one, two years older than he.

"That is why I stand here, informing you of this, today." Luxa paced back and forth. "It is time to take action. I will not allow her to drive my army into a hopeless battle. But even though—and I urge you to take this seriously—we must keep up appearances, not let a word of what has been said today leave this cave . . . we must also act."

A wave of sudden admiration hit Gregor as he gazed at Luxa. Her clothes were torn and ragged, and her face, framed by tightly tied strands of white-blonde hair, was smeared with dirt—but he thought she had never deserved the crown she still wore more than now. She stood tall among the taller crowd of soldiers, and for the first time, she looked like a true queen.

Her words were met with singular cheers until it all grew into a roaring applause. Luxa's name was called, hands waved and feet stomped, and there was fresh hope in the countless eyes.

But Luxa's relieved smile faded all too quickly. "We will make a plan." She suddenly took a step sideways and dragged a surprised Henry away from the Lieutenants. "Or . . . he will make a plan because, in all honesty, I am utterly horrible at this. He has a plan . . . right?"

Henry slapped her arm. "He has a plan," he aped. "Sure . . . just say that, why don't you?" Underneath the false confidence, Gregor thought he was caught utterly off-guard. And despite their dire situation, he thought there was something refreshingly comical about the scene. It, for some reason, made his heart swell with determination and hope more than anything else Luxa had said so far.

"I . . ." Henry cleared his throat. He took in the expectant faces around him and grinned uneasily, shoving Luxa back so she nearly stumbled. "Ah, of course I will . . . make a plan."

"You are the Death Rider, are you not?" It was the same girl who had spoken before. Barely taller than Luxa, she gazed up at the outcast with large eyes.

Henry straightened out his back. "So I am."

The murmur had grown intrigued. There were some pointed fingers and hushed whispers, yet Gregor spotted not a single disapproving look. Henry's . . . well, the Death Rider's, reputation indeed preceded him, at this point.

"I . . ." He exchanged glances with Ripred. "I'll be honest, none of us has a concrete plan." The smiles and excited expressions instantly dropped. Yet before anyone could speak, Henry continued: "But Luxa's right; that doesn't mean we can't make a plan." He clapped his hands. "I'll make a plan. Let's reiterate what we are working with, and then I'll proceed from there. Have any of you a map?"

Mareth stepped forward and spread the same map Solovet had used on the large table. Both Henry and Luxa stood before it, and the rest assembled around the table as best they could. Gregor barely pushed through to have a spot at the front; next to him, he spotted Perdita and Ruvin. Ripred remained behind Henry and Luxa, and Mareth, on Henry's right, briefly reiterated what Solovet had announced.

"Okay." The outcast tapped the map. "This, I can work with." He stared at the map for a moment, then snapped his fingers triumphantly. "That's great, actually. There won't even be any need to disobey Solovet's command. We will but expand her plan a little. It's one of the oldest tricks in the book." He scattered the familiar colorful pyramids on the table. "See, although this system of tunnels requires us to split up our forces, it also requires the gnawers to split up theirs. What if, instead of keeping them out of the tunnels as Solovet said, you do the opposite?"

Henry leaned far over the table and moved the respective pyramids into the three tunnels and out of the central cave, where the rats camped, entirely.

"We . . . lure them away, to take them out in groups," Perdita concluded, and a collective whisper ran through the assembly.

"Precisely." Henry tapped the map, then leaned forward again. "You lure them down the tunnels and into the next larger cave in order to retain your maneuverability, then take them out." In each suitable cavern leading away from the rat's camp, he placed a red pyramid. "For as long as you split them, you should be golden."

"What if they deduce our plan and retreat back to their camp?" Ruvin raised a bushy eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"That's a good point, but it shouldn't be a problem." Henry glanced around as though looking for someone. "As we should not be alone in this battle. Except . . . and this is somewhat awkward, our allies aren't here yet, so . . ." He nudged Ripred. "Where are they? Weren't they supposed to be here already?"

"Who?" asked Perdita.

"The renegade gnawer forces formerly assembled by Whitespur," Henry replied. "Lapblood and Splintleg were out mobilizing them; they should've arrived already. Do you know what is holding them up, Ripred?"

A quiet murmur went through the assembly, and Gregor spotted that most faces had grown hostile. "We are to fight by the side of gnawers?" a soldier scoffed. "Are they not who we fight against in this war?"

"Not those gnawers." Luxa shook her head. "You all heard what Whitespur said earlier. She wished to oppose the Bane, and so do they. They would like to be rid of him as much as we do."

"And then what?" To Gregor's surprise, it was the girl again; she had pushed through the crowd and leaned on the table across from Luxa. "Once this war is over, once the Bane is dead, they will be our enemy again, won't they? Why should we help them—to kill one tyrant, only for them to replace him with a second one?"

Collective cheers could be heard, and Gregor saw Henry's and Luxa's furrowed brows.

"Who says that?" All eyes were on Ripred when he suddenly spoke. Gregor had barely ever seen him so grimly determined. He regarded the assembly with an unreadable gaze. "It is hard, I know, to put aside such deep-running animosity. But the lad here knows what he is doing. Is a victory not worth jumping over your shadows once?"

"It certainly is." All gazes darted over to where the new voice had come from, and Gregor barely prevented himself from jumping to catch a glimpse. But Luxa and Henry instantly pushed through the crowd toward the entrance to the cave, and when he spotted two familiar figures carrying a large barrel, Gregor smiled.

"And to cement your upcoming victory further," Teslas tapped the barrel, "we have a little something of our own here for you."

Henry leaped to inspect it, and when he had finally gotten the lid off, he let out a triumphant cry. "Guys, I LOVE you! Oh, have you any idea what you have done for us?"

"Our duty," smiled Miravet, and patted Teslas' shoulder. "We thought you could use something for backup."

"You saved many lives." Henry single-handedly picked up the barrel and placed it on the table with a loud thud. "Alright, fess up. How many of you have ever dreamed of wielding a flaming sword?"

***

Throughout Henry's presentation, the whole room gazed at him with unconcealed admiration. He had asked for Mareth's sword, broke one of the hundreds of ignifer pellets the barrel held on it, and, in front of the unbelieving eyes of the soldiers, ignited it.

"Now, it only burns for about fifteen minutes, so we wasted this one here. But I presume you have more than enough, right?" Teslas nodded, and Henry's grin returned. "I suggest we evenly split this lot into three and let the Captains handle the distribution. You okay with that?"

Mareth, Perdita, and Ruvin all exchanged looks. "More than okay," Ruvin grinned. "Now this is a guaranteed victory. The gnawers will not know what hit them."

"Quite right," nodded Perdita. "May I . . . hold that for a second?"

While Perdita swung Mareth's burning sword with intrigue, Andromeda suddenly fluttered down from where she had hung with the other bats on the ceiling above their heads. "What of . . . Solovet?"

"Hm?" Henry looked up from the barrel.

"What if she asks how we received these?" The bat tilted her head. "Or why she was overlooked?"

Miravet stepped between Henry and Perdita. "Teslas and I are here on her own request. So we will tell her the truth, of course. And that we were . . . unable to distribute these before her departure."

"Good plan." Henry nodded and inspected her closer. "We . . . haven't met yet, have we?" Gregor inevitably asked himself how well they had known each other, once upon a time.

Miravet looked him up and down with narrowed eyes; her mouth opened, and her gaze locked on the hand he used to support himself on the table. She blinked, and though Gregor couldn't properly make out her expression, a nervous shiver suddenly ran down his spine. Nobody had recognized Henry the way he was now, but . . .

"Perhaps we haven't . . . though perhaps we have." Miravet suddenly had Henry by the wrist of his right hand. He jerked back but her grip was firm. Gregor took a step forward as a terrible premonition hit him. But before he could do anything, Miravet undauntedly spoke on. "It was . . . eleven years ago, it must be . . ." Her thumb brushed a spot on the back of Henry's hand. "You snuck back into the armory after all others had gone, to return that sword you had secretly taken. But not because you were afraid to be lectured, no . . ."

Nearly all murmur had died down now; the cavern was still as a grave. Luxa's expression was frozen fear, yet it paled before that of Henry.

"Because you had hurt yourself on it," Miravet continued, "and you could not bear for anyone to see you cry. You had bled all over the floor, so I found you where you had hidden in the back." She carefully raised her hand that still held his. "While I treated your wound, you begged me to keep it a secret. To not disclose to anyone that you had been clumsy with a weapon. Solovet would scold you, you said. And I . . ."

". . . and you promised," mumbled Henry numbly. "You promised to—"

"The Death Rider, you call him?" Miravet disregarded him and spoke louder. "This is most curious. For, as a child, he spoke of nothing more passionately than wanting to be that Death Rider."

Luxa had woken from her daze and pushed through, opening her mouth to stop her, yet she wasn't fast enough.

"It seems as though we have a visitor from the grave today. Before us, if I am not gravely mistaken, stands no other than Prince Henry of Regalia."

The murmur that ran through the crowd was shocked and unbelieving more than hostile, Gregor registered somewhere at the back of his consciousness. His hand tightened around Mareth's arm; he couldn't say whether it was to support himself or for Mareth's sake.

Henry stumbled a step back; he latched onto Luxa's arm who stepped forth. "Quiet!" she called, and the room fell still. Though it wasn't a serene type of silence. The gazes were once more questioning, unapologetic.

"Has she just said . . ." Mareth meant to approach, but Gregor clung to his arm urgently, silently pleading for him to stay.

"Have you not announced to us Prince Henry is dead?" It was the girl again; she still leaned on the table almost exactly across from Gregor, and despite her accusing tone, her hands trembled.

Luxa pressed her lips together. "I have never said such a thing. The council spread this lie to—" She hesitated, and when she couldn't continue, to Gregor's surprise, it was Henry who spoke. Gregor shivered from the cold numbness in his voice.

"—To not sully the reputation of the royal family, or so we assume, for they meant not to expose that one of their own had once conspired with the gnawers."

This time, there was an audible uproar and Gregor sensed the hostility like a spear through his own heart. Over the last few weeks, he had seen Henry be treated unfairly and disdainfully so much that he thought he couldn't bear any more. He squinted and fought valiantly to not scream at the top of his lungs.

"Conspired . . ." Mareth released a mortified gasp, and Gregor's grip on his arm tightened. "What by all means is—?"

"STOP!" Gregor barely registered that it was he who cried. With strength he hadn't known he possessed, he pushed Mareth aside and soon stood between Henry and the hostile crowd. "Will you all STOP!"

Grave silence.

Gregor forced a shaky breath out of his lungs. But before he could speak, Luxa had his arm. "You have . . . heard correctly. Lured by false promises he had, at the time, conspired with Gorger. But for as far as we all should be concerned, that lies in the past."

"So that . . . is why you never came back to Regalia," Miravet exhaled. "I . . . she blinked. "I would recognize the jagged shape of that scar among thousands. I all but wondered why you . . ."

"Because I would've been executed for treason. You all happy now?" Henry released Luxa and nearly ran into Ripred as he stumbled back. "It's . . ."

"It hardly matters now." All eyes darted to Ripred who had Henry's shoulder before he could run. "You've spent two years in exile at this point, on top of that, so many of Regalia's most prominent folk owe you their lives. If you're already telling them how you've conspired with Gorger, why won't you also tell them how you saved Gregor the Great Warrior over the waterway? All here know the story of your guiding the quest through the Vineyard. Do they also know you've slain Longclaw, who would've risen to be the next gnawer tyrant they all fear so? Or how you've protected these kids in the Firelands? How you've . . ." he shot Henry a pensive look, "saved . . . my life, as I was rotting away in that pit. I was right; you meant to make up for something there, didn't you?"

"He speaks the truth," Luxa stepped at Henry's side also. Somewhere behind them dropped Ares and Aurora, finally. "He . . ." she suddenly gazed back at Gregor. "I have found that . . . people are never all good or bad. That they can change. I'd like any of you who lives free of regrets to raise their hand now."

Nobody raised any hands, yet nobody spoke either.

"You have . . . lied to us." It was finally Ruvin who broke the silence. "You and the whole royal lot."

"Luxa had nothing to do with that!" Gregor leaped forward to position himself by her and Henry. He gazed at her once, then nodded. Nobody had ever told him they had kept Henry's betrayal a secret, but for as disappointing as the council's performance at the issue with the mice had been, he was unsurprised. "She didn't know they didn't tell you."

"None of us knew." Aurora twitched as she addressed the crowd. Ares remained behind her, which Gregor couldn't really blame him for.

"Is . . . that so . . . ?" Mareth heaved himself forward on his crutch until he stood in front of them. He looked back and forth between Luxa and Henry. "So . . . you have . . . been alive all this time. You have conspired with Gorger, you have somehow wound up alive, and then you became the Death Rider who aided our quests, protected our queen."

Henry held his unreadable stare. "So I have."

A few heartbeats later, Mareth caught Henry in a tight hug. "You crazy bastard, I knew you were destined for more. Ever since the day you defeated the blood balls, I knew."

Henry's eye widened and he helplessly stood there for a second before he at last returned the hug. "Me too."

A wide smile spread on Gregor's face as he sensed Mareth had broken the palpable tension. He contently watched Henry be surrounded by people and nearly overwhelmed with questions.

"This is all fair . . ." Perdita suddenly said into the excited murmur. "And it is quite the reveal, but . . . it is not the purpose of this meeting." She looked directly at Henry. "For, even if we succeed this time . . . If Solovet has betrayed us, how can we ever fight on in this war?"

Henry's expression, which seemed to have eased, hardened again. "That is what I cannot answer, I'm afraid." He gazed back at Miravet who had been joined by Teslas again; the mouse held up one of the stashed breastplates, pointing at something. "But you must never lose hope."

He exchanged a glance with Luxa, then took a step forward. "Listen, I mean for those of you who still distrust me to disregard my person for a moment. I do not expect you to forgive me, nor to listen to me for who I am. I'm not a prince, and this is not an attempt to regain your loyalty. It is war. So I urge you to listen to pragmatism, at least."

The room grew dead silent instantly. Gregor looked at Henry from the corner of his eye and, despite his claim, he found that, for the first time in forever, he actually seemed like a prince again. Or maybe . . . Gregor squinted, like a leader.

"You are battered, confused, and you feel betrayed," Henry spoke calmly yet in the still cave, his voice rang like a gong. "But we all here, who have assembled today, fight for the same cause, no? You say," he placed a hand on Perdita's shoulder, "that you feel lost without a trustworthy commander. Yet an army is not their commander. For whatever Solovet has and will still do, you have no part in it. And you are not obligated to follow her if she so desperately seeks to ruin herself. So, do not lose hope, as that is perhaps the worst fate that could meet us. We will win this battle, and we will win this war—with or without her. We have a plan, we have our secret weapon," he patted the ignifer barrel, "and we have . . . you have each other. And for all that's worth, know that Luxa, Ripred, and . . . and I too, will always stand with you. So I figured we have all that we need."

His words were followed by a moment of silence, then there was a collective murmur. It quickly grew into a cheer, and Gregor raised both his hands alongside Mareth and Perdita at his side to applaud.

"Well said. Couldn't have phrased it better, had I wanted to."

All cheering instantly turned into hostile cries as a new voice suddenly spoke from the far entrance to the cave. Gregor stood on his tiptoes and barely made out the shapes of two rats leaning in the entrance.

Around him, he even spotted a few drawn blades, yet before he could get hold of his own sword, Ripred's voice cut through the uproar: "Ah, the reinforcements arrive at last."

Gregor froze and only then did he recognize the newcomers as the two he had seen at Whitespur's side when she had mocked the Bane: Lapblood's peachy shape, and he could have sworn the other guy was Splintleg.

"Lower your blades, they are Whitespur's allies!" Henry leaped over the table at the two rats. Only then did he realize that he had not the power to command anyone.

"Do as he says." Luxa nodded and she, Henry, and Ripred approached the newcomers together.

"So, what is this mess here?" asked Splintleg in Ripred's direction. "Are you the one in charge now? Because I certainly am not."

Ripred paused, then glanced at Henry. "I . . . supposed so . . ." he muttered, though he didn't seem pleased. "Are you—"

"Alright, but in that case . . ." Splintleg stepped forth. "I mean, for as unbroken as my loyalty to Whitespur was, why in the world should we trust YOU to lead us?"

His words were followed by silence.

"Ripred, I know you mean well, but do you honestly see yourself fit for this?" Lapblood shook her head. "We came here to pay respect to Whitespur, but we—"

"Have you all lost your minds?!" Everyone winced when Henry leaped forward, between Splintleg and Ripred. "Will you abandon our cause only because of your commander's death? Is this not exactly what I said you—"

"Hey, leave it be." Ruvin emerged from the confused, still somewhat hostile crowd. "We do not need the gnawers anyway. We have your flaming substance, and we have a plan. Without everything else, we can do." He threw Splintleg a somewhat disapproving glance.

Gregor looked back and forth between the Captains and the rats, across each other, and anger suddenly overcame him at the sight of their hostility. Had they still not gotten over themselves?

But before he could speak, Henry beat him to it. "Are you all serious? Truly, honestly serious?" He glared around at the silent assembly, then scoffed. "So, you are meaning to tell me . . ." He pointed at the rats, then at the humans. "That you fight for the same cause—to liberate your species, to dethrone a tyrant—yet you are not willing to do it together, for the sole sake of your damn pride?" He paused and Gregor sensed his contempt from all the way over where he stood. "What do you think Whitespur would say, were she here now?"

Splintleg and Lapblood winced.

"And you . . . he whipped around to the assembly of soldiers, then spread his arms. "I have a question for you." He took a step at Ruvin, then put his hands on his hips. "Why did you join the army?"

Silence.

Gregor's fist clenched; his mind reeled. Even though he wasn't part of the army, he knew his own answer: Scenes of dead mice flashed before his inner eye—the tragedy by the volcano. The Bane's speech before his kin. But . . . He realized that none of the soldiers had probably ever been asked this.

A confused murmur arose indeed, with occasional head-shaking. Henry looked at them all with so much contempt that Gregor was surprised he didn't see physical electric discharge. "You!" He finally ran out of patience and dragged one of them out of the crowd. It was the same teenage girl who had raised her voice multiple times before. "What's your name?"

She ducked beneath his icy stare, then looked away. ". . . Kiara."

"Kiara." He towered over her. "Why did you join this wretched army, Kiara?"

"I . . . I wanted to . . ." she stammered, "to help protect my people, my city!"

Henry nodded. "To protect . . . to retain . . . Is that your collective answer?"

Many nodded. Some shamefully looked away.

"To . . . protect," Henry shook his head, "to retain . . . to," he glanced back at Ripred, "to make peace. Is that why you are all HERE?!"

More nodding. "For me, it has always been about peace," Mareth spoke from behind. Perdita supported him as he made his way forward.

"About peace." Henry nodded. "About peace! Then why," he gesticulated at the rats, "are you even asking questions like "what will be after we slay the Bane?" Why is it so hard for you all to finally let go of that ridiculous prejudice?"

Henry's jaw clenched, and as he took in that he was losing them. Gregor jumped when he then, without further ado, suddenly leaped up onto the large table. Everyone closeby flinched but Henry stood tall. "We heard the Bane speak in the Firelands!" he called. "He said there is not enough room in the Underland, for humans and gnawers. Do you wish for him to be RIGHT?"

It was only then that Gregor heard the first cries of protest.

"That's right!" Henry raised his arm. "Would you like to know why I agreed to cooperate with Gorger, at the time? Well, it had selfish reasons too, but what they promised me, above all else, was to at last make peace between our species, once and for all."

The murmur around them sounded bewildered. Nobody had expected that; even Gregor, to his eternal shame, realized that he barely recalled Henry's motive at the time.

"It is a waste of energy, of resource, of many, many lives," Henry continued. "We will never regain all those who died in this ridiculous conflict. Most of my own family, most of Luxa's family—they all fell for the sake of a pointless dispute. I am going to go on a whim here and say that there will hardly be a person in this room who hasn't lost anyone to this conflict yet. So why would you proliferate it? Why won't you grasp the single shot you are being offered to work side by side, to lay the ground for a following era of peace? I know I certainly will."

A warm, tingly feeling suddenly rose in Gregor. When he gazed up at Henry on the table, overlooking the assembly, with his rough outcast attire, his still somewhat unfamiliar braid, and the frightening array of weapons and scars . . . he suddenly thanked heaven and earth that he'd lived to be here now.

"So . . . will it be you who will lead then, lad?"

All gazes locked on Ripred who stared up at Henry with an unreadable but once again oddly . . . proud look. Hadn't he fully and truly deserved it, Gregor thought he could almost be jealous.

Henry twitched. "What do you mean, lead? I . . . am still an outcast, and—"

"—And, don't you think that in itself is laughable, at this point?" The outcast jumped when Luxa suddenly scrambled up onto the table beside him. "You . . ." She regarded him with a long gaze, then proudly raised her chin. "Please respond truthfully. Are you he who was formerly known as Prince Henry of Regalia, and have you conspired with former gnawer monarch Gorger to make peace between our species, only to be betrayed and left for dead by him?"

Henry frowned confusedly, but nodded. "I have."

"And are you also he whom we know as the Death Rider—the heroic outcast who has saved our all lives, guided, and protected us many times?"

Once more, Henry gave a cautious "Yes . . . ?"

Luxa took a deep breath, and suddenly Gregor guessed what she meant to do. For a moment, what she had revealed about Henry disclosing that he didn't want to return to the city even if pardoned flashed before him, but then he smiled. Luxa didn't make the decision for him. All she did was give him a choice.

She placed one hand on her own chest and the other on Henry's shoulder. "Then I, Queen Luxa of Regalia, hereby pronounce you pardoned for your admitted crimes and revoke your status as an outcast. From this day forward, you will take your place in our midst, where you have proven you belong. So is my edict as queen."

A moment of shocked silence filled the room before the assembly broke into hesitant, then exhilarated cheers. Gregor clapped as vigorously as they all; he didn't even bother combating the enormous grin.

The only one who did not cheer was Henry. "You're . . . mad," he muttered, though even he couldn't suppress a smile. "You don't even officially have that power yet, do you?"

"Oh, officiality, what's that going to do?" Luxa chirped and clung to his arm. "The council will be held responsible for their lie about you and their passiveness in the nibbler affair. Their reputation can hardly be saved. I doubt they will go against my will."

After the cheering had died down a little, Henry released Luxa and looked around again. "Well, if that is what you all want," he sighed. "So be it."

"So . . . you will lead us, then?" It was Kiara who spoke. Not a trace of hostility or fear remained on her face, only admiration.

"Lead?" Henry shook his head. "In what sense? I wholeheartedly promise to do anything in my power to aid, now and forever, but I already told you that this isn't about following a leader. Not in this case."

"But an army needs a commander." Kiara shook her head.

"He is already more of a leader than Solovet has been in recent times," Mareth mumbled, and Gregor found his fist tightening around the hilt of his sword as a swell of determination suddenly hit him.

"I mean, I don't know about you, but he's the only commander I will follow, in this war."

Only when he had everyone's attention did Gregor realize it was he who had spoken. Luxa's gaze hovered on him for a moment, then she turned back to Henry. "Gregor speaks the truth. He is the commander we have been following in this war, and the only one I will ever trust with this role."

"The commander . . ." Perdita sounded from Mareth's side. "Is that not still Solovet, technically?"

"I mean . . . The law says that if they have the support of at least a third of their forces, including the lieutenants, all captains in unison can push a no-confidence vote against an untrustworthy commander," spoke Ruvin with a look at Mareth and Perdita. "And if I'm not gravely mistaken, all captains and lieutenants are here."

Henry shook his head reflexively. "I mean, I—" He broke off when Luxa drew her blade. For a moment she hesitated, then determinedly rammed the tip into the table they stood on. Then she sank to one knee.

The room grew perfectly still for a moment before both Mareth and Perdita, then Ruvin, all drew their blades to follow Luxa's example. When Mareth had somehow maneuvered himself down to his one good knee, Gregor discerned it had to be some kind of ritual. He hastily pulled his own sword out and did as they all, though he had no idea what was going on.

Heartbeats later, the cave rang with the distinct clinking of hundreds of drawn, iron blades. Gregor caught a glimpse of Henry's perplexed expression, then registered that the cave had fallen silent again.

"The people have spoken." Luxa disrupted the almost ceremonious quiet. "Will you accept?"

Henry took a step back and barely caught himself before he would have fallen off the table. His gaze wandered over the assembly; they all knelt in the same manner as Luxa now. Gregor thought Henry looked like he desperately wanted to protest, but then he merely clutched and drew his own blade before he opened his mouth.

"In war . . . in peace, in flame, in strife . . . To guide, to lead, I pledge my life. To my last breath, I shall defend . . ." The hand with the sword raised above their heads. "Here I stand, at your command."

Gregor had never heard the words, but judging by the ecstatic cheers that followed, they had to mean something special. He cautiously sheathed his sword and knelt again to help Mareth up; he smiled so genuinely that Gregor instinctively smiled back.

"What . . . have we missed?" The voice seemed familiar and Gregor just about spotted Thanatos and Nike appear at the entrance to the cave, gazing over Henry on the table and the kneeling assembly with bewilderment.

"Well, well, well, well." Gregor twitched around; he had almost forgotten Ripred was there. "What's the game plan, Lord Commander?"