Chapter 15 – The Carriage Rolls
(Four days later – twelve days left)
The royal army reached the valley at dusk.
We watched from the highest tower as twenty thousand torches crawled across the snow like a river of fire. Siege towers rose behind them (black skeletons against the white). Ice-drakes circled overhead, wings beating slow and heavy, dragging chains of war-balloons filled with alchemist's fire.
Cedric had come in person.
He rode at the head on a white destrier, golden cloak snapping, the royal banner flying beside the queen's black storm banner.
He stopped just out of bow-shot and looked up at Caer Veyral's walls.
Even from this distance I saw him search for Evelyn.
She stood beside me on the battlements, black cloak lined with wolf-fur, hair loose and wild in the wind.
She did not wave.
She simply lifted her father's sword and laid it across the stone parapet (an answer and a promise).
Cedric's shoulders stiffened. Then he turned his horse and rode back to his camp.
The siege began at dawn the next day.
Catapults hurled burning pitch that burst against the outer walls in gouts of green flame. Ice-drakes dove, shrieking, dropping glass spheres that shattered into clouds of poisonous frost.
Our archers answered. Ballistae sang. The mountain itself seemed to fight (stone elementals woken by the circle, hurling boulders the size of wagons).
By nightfall the valley floor was littered with broken siege towers and frozen corpses.
And Caer Veyral still stood.
Inside the great hall that night, Evelyn and I stood over the war table with Rowena, Garrick, and the circle masters.
Twelve days left.
"The dragon roads are ready," Rowena said, tapping the map. "Five thousand will ride through the mountain tonight. They'll emerge behind Cedric's supply lines at dawn in three days."
Evelyn's eyes were bright with exhaustion and triumph.
"Then we let them hammer the walls for two more days," she said. "On the third night we open the gates and hit them from the front while the hidden force takes them from behind."
I traced the silver stag scar on my arm (it had begun to burn whenever battle was close, like a warning).
"There's something else," I said quietly.
Everyone looked at me.
"Cedric will try to draw you out," I told Evelyn. "He knows you. He'll use hostages, or threats, or Lilia's tears. He'll try to make it personal."
Evelyn's smile was slow and terrible.
"Let him try."
She turned to the assembly.
"Tomorrow I ride out under parley flag. Alone."
The room erupted.
Rowena: "Absolutely not—"
Garrick: "He'll put an arrow through you the moment you clear the gates—"
I was already moving, hand on her arm.
"Evelyn."
She met my eyes (calm, certain, unbreakable).
"I need him to see me," she said. "I need every soldier in that army to see the girl he tried to break standing tall on a black horse with her father's sword. I need them to remember who they're truly fighting for."
I wanted to argue. Every instinct screamed to lock her in the deepest vault and throw away the key.
Instead I heard myself say:
"Then you don't ride alone."
She started to protest.
I cut her off with a kiss (hard, fierce, claiming).
"You ride with your shield," I said against her mouth. "Always."
She laughed (breathless, radiant).
"Always," she echoed.
Twelve days.
The siege raged on.
And somewhere in the royal camp, a prince prepared to face the ghost he had created.
He had no idea the ghost had teeth now.
And a woman who loved her enough to burn the world down at her side.