STRATEGIC CONFLICTThe air in the command tent was thick enough to choke on. It smelled like old sweat, spilled ink, and the metallic tang of armor. A giant map was spread across a table in the center, held down at the corners by heavy daggers.

I stood in the shadows near the back, trying to be invisible. Demetrius had insisted I be here. He didn’t say why, but I could feel his eyes on me every few minutes, checking to see if I was still there.

"The Iron Pass is the only way," Finn said, ...