Auden keeps his eyes on his father, ignoring the Alphas, knowing that this is a briefing, not a discussion. The King bangs his fist twice on the table. What murmurs there are in the room fade to silence.
“Our armies will move to the Western border with Venda,” Mahl growls, looking around at his Alphas. “We’ll draw our troops back from the Eastern allies to move in force. We will take our time with this, let the Vendans sweat, think we’re moving slowly because we’re bullying them and intend to call for talks at the last minute. But no talks. We will strike.”
It’s Auden’s plan, not Mahl’s – one the Prince dwelled over for hours on the road while the children slept. But the way Mahl speaks it with such confidence, he probably does think that he came up with it by this point.
“In the interv
