The Pendragon's Challenge (The Last Pendragon Saga Book 7) by Sarah Woodbury

the twenty I’ve brought. If you leave now, Oswin will march into Chester, discover it empty, and march right back out.”
    “He will make it his seat!” Penda said.
    They were standing in the former Roman principia , the headquarters building. It was built in stone and consisted of a large central courtyard, which was surrounded on the south, east, and west sides by a covered walkway fronting storage and sleeping rooms. On the north side of the cloister was the meeting hall with its central aisle and nave, resembling nothing less than a small church, though the Romans who’d built it hadn’t yet been Christian.
    “He won’t, but even if he does, Oswin will find himself in the same position you are in: defending a too large city with too few men, facing a surrounding army with plenty of food and time.”
    “I have already sent the women and children to Westune,” Penda admitted, “but my ancestors have held this city since the Romans left. I will not abandon it to Oswin of Northumbria!”
    Cade scoffed. “Do not speak to me about ancestral lands. Your ancestors’ right to this city comes from taking it from mine. No Saxon had yet reached Chester when the Romans abandoned us to your people.”
    Penda looked venomous, but he didn’t argue. Perhaps he’d been telling himself about his rights for so long he’d started believing his own tales. “Nevertheless, Chester is defensible.”
    “How?” Cade said. “Northumbria has ladders and battering rams. They are coming over those walls; we will be forced to fight hand-to-hand before nightfall. You will lose everything and everyone to your pride.”
    “You can leave if you want to. I’m staying.”
    Cade narrowed his eyes at the Mercian king. “Just because my mother is your sister does not mean that I owe you my life. I came because you called, to discuss bringing my armies to fight alongside yours. I don’t have an army today, and from what I’ve seen you barely do either. Why do you insist on fighting a battle you cannot win?”
    Penda glowered at him, but when Cade didn’t back down, he said, “I thought Peada told you why back at Dinas Bran.”
    Cade remembered—it was hardly as if he’d forget about the existence of a Treasure in Chester—but he wanted to hear it from Penda’s own mouth. “Dinas Bran crumbled into ruin within hours of your leaving, so I am in no mood for evasions. Have you found the dish?”
    Penda’s jaw clenched, and he spoke through gritted teeth. “No.”
    “What makes you think you will find it before the Northumbrians come? Better to retreat and fight another day.”
    “We were hoping that you might be able to find it.” Penda had the grace to look abashed.
    Cade guffawed. “ That’s why you invited me here? To find the Treasure when you could not? Why do you think I would have any better luck in one hour than you’ve had in a lifetime?”
    “You’ve collected many already,” Penda said matter-of-factly. “Like calls to like. I know for a fact that Caledfwlch and Dyrnwyn alone could defend Chester.”
    “Two men cannot be everywhere at once, and Chester is a big city, as I said.” Cade studied his uncle. Penda wasn’t entirely wrong, at least about the Treasures being drawn to one another, and the sense of power that emanated from them. When Cade and his people had entered the city and then the great hall where Penda had his seat on the dais, the Saxons had cringed away. Cade had initially attributed their fear to him being Welsh, but now he wasn’t so sure. Saxons were the least spiritual beings Cade had ever encountered, but even they could sense the way Cade’s company was bristling with power.
    Cade carried the mantle and his sword, Caledfwlch, on his person. Dafydd wore the sword, Dyrnwyn, belted at his waist. And Hywel kept the knife among his possessions. Since it was his family who’d protected it all these years, it seemed appropriate for him to be the one to decide when to use it. Not that it was