The inner hall of the western barracks smelled like damp stone and old blood. Torches burned low on the walls.
Most of the harem had been given this corner of the city to rest after the last monster wave, but rest was the wrong word. No one slept.
Catherine sat on a wooden bench with her back against the cold wall. Her armor was off, just a linen shirt and the long scar across her collarbone showing where a lesser demon had tried to open her throat two days ago.
Flora stood three paces away, cleaning her sword with short, angry strokes.
"You're not going back out there tomorrow," Catherine said.
Flora didn't look up. "The line is thin. Aiden needs every blade."
"I don't care what Aiden needs." Catherine's voice came out flat. "You're my daughter. You're nineteen.
You should be learning trade routes or arguing with merchants, not standing on a wall waiting for things with too many teeth to climb over it."
