Music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses seep out of the Rusty Hound. The dealings inside the tavern are known to be questionable—smoking hallucinogenic herbs, selling carnal pleasures, and drunken brawls that make their way out to the street at all times of night. It's the type of establishment the king's guard, council people, and a future queen shouldn't step foot into, making it the perfect place to gather if one is planning a secret rescue mission.

With a deep breath and my chin held high, I yank open the bulky door. Alcohol mixed with pungent smoke invades my nostrils, and I blink against the haze illuminated by candles on top of the rustic tables. The patrons seated at the bar sip their drinks, watching me over the rims of their glasses as I scan the room for a familiar face.

I've dealt with my fair share of drunken courtiers. A hand drifting to my waist, an off-color joke, and bold stares at body parts, but the privileged are careful not to get caught in the king's palace. The same can't be said for the patrons of the Rusty Hound. One doesn't need to look hard to find acts unbecoming of a lady or gentleman.

I shift side to side anxious to find my friends. A clap cracks throughout the tavern when a palm lands on the tight leather covering my ass. I jump, rubbing the stinging skin and finding a voluptuous woman with a mountain of cleavage licking her thin lips.

"I've been dying for some new meat. How much will it cost for a night with ya, lass?" she says, sounding like she's spent decades with a cigar between her lips.

I open my mouth to give her a piece of my mind but come up short.

An arm drapes over my shoulder and a sultry voice says, "She's out of your price range." Greer gives me a wink. "Besides, she's with me."

I place my hand on Greer's stomach and bat my eyelashes at the lude woman. "Sorry, you're just not my type."

"Of course I'm not," the woman grumbles.

We turn away, exchanging smiles, and push through the crowd.

Greer shakes my shoulder, saying, "It's good to see you, Elle."

"Same. It feels more like weeks than days since I left Basecamp."

"It just hasn't been the same without you."

My heart warms. I worried what little normalcy I found amongst their ranks would vanish when I returned home. They would go back to training and fighting, and I to a palace and crowns. But the sincerity in Greer's eyes and her firm touch on my arm assure me I'm wrong. All my hard work to fit in paid off. My absence has left a mark with the soldiers I trained with, and the friendships I forged are true.

"I'm glad you all are here; I've missed spending time with you," I say.

"You'll feel different after a night with these assholes," she says, tilting her head toward the round table for eight in the far corner. Kyron and Leif stand to the side, the general handing my best friend a silver key. Leif tilts his head to the ceiling, sliding the item into his pocket.

"That's the last time I give you a job," I say, bumping Kyron with my hip.

"I'm just grateful he remembered to give it back. The Palace Steward was glaring at me earlier today, and I thought he figured it out. But I'll sneak this to him with no problem," Leif says.

Kyron pulls out a chair at the table for me, and Ulric slides a stein of beer my way. "Drink it up, nanny goat. We got a long night ahead of us."

"That's not how it works; you'll be carrying her out of here before the night is through." Kyron takes a sip, shudders, and sets the beer in front of me again. "What the hell are you drinking, man?"

Ulric pulls down the neck of his tunic, displaying a thick thatch of curly red hair. "It puts hair on me chest, it does."

"Put that away before it gets in someone's food," Terro says, swatting Ulric's hands from his shirt.

I shake my head and push the beer toward Greer. Taking in everyone around the table, I say, "This is it? I thought this mission was a big deal."

"It is important, but we need to keep your involvement as quiet as possible. Only the most important players will know you are in on the rescue mission." Greer says.

Leif pulls a rolled parchment from the satchel by his feet and spreads the map over the table. I lean in, studying the unfamiliar structure drawn from one end to the other. A wall with several entry points surrounds a massive city of multi-story buildings and a grid of streets. A wagon wheel with a dome top sits in the center of it all.

"Is this Stigian?" I ask, looking around the table.

"The last rendering we have of it; a lot can change in thirty years," Leif says.

I've studied Pliris' terrain and know the area of the Stigian capital, but I've never seen it in detail like this.

My childhood was full of rumors about our enemy. They said the Lucent capital was a hut compared to Stigian's, and our small villages archaic in contrast to epicenter that was once Pliris' capital. We were common, and they were elegant. Lucent was complacent in old ways, and Stigian was forward-thinking. I always thought it was the workings of overactive imaginations, but it appears those stories are true.

I examine the map—the vast terrain around the capital, the countless lots labeled as farms, and the strange lines running from the middle of the city to the Lucent border. "What do these lines mean?" I ask.

"They're the underground tunnels Micah used to smuggle the Cyffreds out when things went to shit with the queen," Greer says, following a path with her finger. "Some passages ran as far as Lake Holly. Micah had them demolished before the division treaty was signed."

Leif tilts his head from side to side and lifts a brow. "He had them demolished on the Lucent side. I've found evidence that at least one tunnel was still in use until about fifteen years ago. I don't know if Esmeray blocked it on her end since then, but that tunnel fell just short of crossing into our land."

My jaw goes slack. "I thought they stopped smuggling Cyffreds when Micah left. Borin taught me how Esmeray made it too enticing for them to want to leave."

Terro shrugs and says, "Or they imprison those who want to leave?"

"But that's against their agreement."

Greer leans forward and drops her voice. "Don't you find it odd how other than our dear general," she tips her chin at Kyron, "no one has ever left Stigian? Is Esmeray offering something better than we have, or is it that once a Cyffred enters, they can never leave? You believe your father doesn't want to be there. Do you really think he's the only one?"

"Seems to me someone is painting an attractive narrative," Leif adds.

I rub my temples and close my eyes. My time with Esmeray was very limited, but in that short time, I saw just how conniving she could be. I wouldn't put it past her to bend the truth, or blatantly lie. What I can't picture is her brother standing idly by as she does it.

"If that's the case, why wouldn't Micah do something?"

Kyron leans back, crossing his arms. "And so, we come full circle."

I answer my question, saying, "We don't have the forces to beat the Stigian."

"We don't have the forces yet." Kyron points to a gate on the Stigian outer wall. "This is the southeast entrance, and according to our surveillance, the least guarded entry point. It faces a body of water and isn't optimal for a large-scale attack, but..."

I stare at the map and contemplate how important this mission is for all of us. We are about to put in motion a potential means to an end, giving our kingdom a fighting chance. If all goes well, our troops will not only be able to defend our land but wreak havoc on Stigian. This is what my father sacrificed so much for, and I pray he will be here to see it.

"If we attack here in the middle of the night, we will minimize our losses. The battle will test the armor and prove to Micah its benefits for our soldiers," Kyron finishes.

I pull my gaze from the map. "And how does my father's rescue work into this?"

He shoots me a sidelong glare, and the corner of his mouth turns up. "One could almost confuse you with a demanding princess."

"Just a daughter who's ready for her father to come home."

Kyron nods. "We keep it simple. Our men will blow open the gate, either with their armor or their gifts, and you and I walk through. Well, we will walk in with you controlling my shadows, of course."

"How do we find him when we are inside?"

"Where would you keep a prisoner, nanny goat?" Ulric asks.

The images running through my head pierce my heart—dark, damp, and dirty places which confine him to a small space and allow a queen to forget he is in her keep. "She's holding him and others in cells," I say.

Leif taps a structure which gradually changes to smaller squares, like it is sinking into the ground. "Everyone who has studied this map agrees that this is the prison. It runs several stories underground."

My chin trembles, and I fight for my anger to conquer my tears, but it's hard. All I can imagine is my father alone and dying in the lowest pit of hell. His ruthless and cynical captor living in the lap of luxury with nothing in the five kingdoms to care about. She has a firm grasp on him, but that is about to change.

Kyron laces his fingers with mine under the table. "Whatever it takes, you will leave Stigian with him, Raelle."

I run the back of my hand over my eyes. His promise sparks hope and chases away fear. I have overcome so much to get to this point and gained even more in the process. My father trusted these soldiers with his life, and now, so do I.

Together, we will storm Stigian, blast down their doors, and deliver the king's general from the hands of our enemy.