THE CHARGE The sun was trying to peek through the gray, but it looked sickly. I sat there on the dirt, my back against a jagged rock, holding Esmeralda. She was so light. Too light. Her breathing was steady now, but her face was pale, and her hands were cold.

"Demetrius."

I looked down. Silas was standing a few feet away. He looked like he’d crawled through a coal mine. His armor was dented, and one of his eyes was swollen shut.

"The men are ready," Silas said. His voice was a low growl. "The ...