Dragon Heartstone > Chapter 36–Baiting the Hook
Despite the midday sun pressing down on the canvas above, Banoch fought off a chill while standing before Faline inside the command tent. The bandage over his right eye itched, a constant reminder of the saber cut from the recent battle at Fox River. Though he’d kept the Bretagnian main force from seizing the bridge before his men could escape across it, the Preytar mercenaries had still managed to slip past – killing many good soldiers while doing so.
“So,” Faline said. “Surprised you, did they?”
He swallowed, tasting the dust of the day’s ride. “I did not expect the Bretagne to build a crossing upstream, nor that they would risk sending Preytars across it. Had I enough troops—”
“I don’t want excuses. You knew the plan.” She looked down at the map spread across the oak table, her rings tapping a slow rhythm against the wood. “All is not lost; we must adjust our timetable. This is also an opportunity, depending on how fast they try to relieve Keihl. What are they doing now?”

“Those accursed Preytars are pushing up the road. They’ve almost reached the siege lines.”
“What about their main force? Has it moved north of the river?”
“They’re crossing the bridge but haven’t advanced beyond it.”
Banoch jumped as her fist crashed on the table, sending map markers skittering across the carefully drawn terrain.
“We need to motivate them before they realize their danger,” she said.
He ventured a suggestion. “We could pull troops away from the siege lines—”
“No.” She traced the siege lines with one finger. “They’re already so thin the enemy will realize we never meant to storm the city. They’ll suspect what we’re planning. We need to entice them to move in a way that can’t be ignored.”
Banoch studied the map, the familiar terrain of roads and rivers now a deadly puzzle. “Unless we can convince them that Keihl will fall, I don’t know what else we can do.”
Her sudden movement drew his eye upward. Something in her expression made him straighten. “I know just what to do.” She snatched a piece of parchment from her desk, and he watched as her quill scratched rapidly across its surface. “Send a parley to the city with these terms.”
The parchment felt rough against his fingers as he read. His pulse quickened with understanding – if the city’s governor took this bait, Britta’s army would face an impossible choice: risk everything or lose Keihl. “Brilliant,” he breathed, already imagining the trap closing. “Utterly brilliant.”