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She’s incredible.

“We’re not fucked.” Her steely determination prompts everyone to sit up straighter. “We’re backed into a corner, yes, but that just means we need to get creative.”

“So what’s your game plan?” Agnar braces his forearms on the table. “How do we turn this death match into a victory?”

Rafe scoffs. “Let’s start with what we have, which is a whole lot of nothing. No leverage, no power, and a divine war descending on us.” He reaches for a pastry, breaking off a piece and popping it into his mouth with a defiant gesture. “We should just enjoy what we have now while we still can.”

“How do you fight an enemy who’s already won?” Leesa’s soft but steady manner of speaking reminds me a lot of her sister. “Who holds all the cards?”

“Isn’t that a given?” Agnar’s eyes sweep over the group as if we’re all missing something obvious. “You cheat.”

He declares this without even a hint of uncertainty while spearing a sausage.

Lark bolts up, her focus trained on Agnar. “How? What do you have in mind?”

Agnar shrugs with a sheepish grin. “No clue. I just like the idea of cheating.”

My head begins to throb, and I bite out a harsher response than intended. “Then why make a suggestion if it was just a shot in the dark?”

The what the hells is your problem glare Larks shoots me reminds me of our Flighthaven days.

“I’m morale. Keeping you guys going when things look bad.” Agnar shakes the other half of his sausage at me, clearly unoffended. “Important job.”

A huge part of me wants to rip Agnar a new one. Now’s not the time for his asinine jokes. But something he said sticks with me. “Maybe it’s not about cheating exactly. Maybe we need to change the rules of the game.”

A subtle realignment occurs in the room, as if the air itself is changing its chemistry. I can see the shift embodied in their expressions. A glimmer of energy, of hope.

Rafe nods, straightening in his seat. “You divide their forces.”

“Or their focus.” There must be something we can exploit. “You make them look this way…” I gesture with my left hand.

“When they should be looking that way.” Agnar points in the opposite direction.

Bastian brightens too. “Then you hit them hard.”

“Precisely.” A slow, evil smile curls Lark’s lips. One that, given the situation, affects my dick a little too much for comfort. “From behind.”

Leesa’s hand drifts to her pregnant belly. “You make them think you’re complying.” Her eyes meet Lark’s from across the table. “But you never, ever comply. If you’re not allowed to go out the door, you go out the window. And never explain how the goat got in the storage room on the third floor.”

That last bit throws me off, but Lark laughs. An inside joke between sisters, I suppose. Yet something still nags at me. A missing piece in our evaluation.

Rafe’s eyes widen. “You use what they wanted to hide against them. I’ll be right back.”

We all stare, confusion evident on every face as he leaps to his feet and bolts from the room. The rest of us exchange puzzled glances.

Agnar frowns, pushing around an uneaten pastry on his plate. “What the hells was that about?”

Lark shrugs, just as bewildered as the rest of us. “Rafe has his…moments.”

A few minutes later, Rafe returns, arms loaded with a stack of old, stained books.

“The Devoted,” he drops the heavy tomes onto the table, “are acting according to Zeru’s plan, right?”

Nods all around.

“So ask yourselves,” Rafe brushes his hands on his tunic, “why did Zeru want to get rid of the scientist-priests? Even the ones from his own order?”

The question lingers for a moment before something clicks into place.