In the bustling kitchen, Hannah hefted a bag of rolled oats over her shoulder and clomped towards the prep table. Just as she passed the door to the back garden, it flung open and crashed into the wall. The young servant girl she'd sent out to fetch herbs darted inside, running right into her.

"What in the name of Zeus is wrong with you, girl?" she barked, struggling with keeping the heavy bag in her grip.

"Dead," she squeaked, hands clasped to her mouth.

"What?" Hannah leaned closer. "Speak up. I'm deaf in one ear."

"Th-the Priest. In the garden," she said, trembling. "He's dead!"

Hannah's gaze shifted to the open door. Dropping the oats, she grabbed the girl by the hand and tugged her outside. Her pace faltered at the sight of Favir's motionless body, white robes stained vermillion, pale blue eyes vacant. Several feet away, a royal guard lay face down in the dirt, an odd heap of armor and cloth. Hannah knew who had slain these men.

The girl began to whimper, trying to pull out of her grip.

"Shh!" she snapped. Raven must have fled. Any rational person would. "Shut up, you hear me? Did you tell anyone else you saw this?"

Hand still plastered over her mouth, the girl jerked her head side to side in answer.

Hannah pursed her lips, studying Favir's lifeless face. She didn't feel the slightest bit sorry for the conceited bigot. Far as she was concerned, he deserved it. The guard however, was a different matter. That would be difficult a crime to escape. Old eyes locked on the far door of the garden, Hannah said a quick prayer to the gods. Run fast, Hudar. Run fast.

Turning back into the kitchen, she tugged the petrified girl with her. "Come along, dearie. I'm sure we can find some herbs elsewhere." She bolted the garden door behind them, sealing off the silent, grisly scene.

O.O.O.O.O

At the market, Melissah handed off the reins of her mount to a stable hand. The young man gawked at the emblem on the leather saddle. "Is this the—"

"The Queen's horse. Yes, it is. And you would do well to treat him kindly during his short stay with you." Melissa placed a gold coin in the man's hand. "I won't be long."

Grinning, he pocketed the coin and gave the black gelding's neck a scratch. "The royal treatment, it is."

Adjusting her riding coat, Melissah strode into the busy market. Her task seemed simple and straightforward, but she conducted herself with grave seriousness. She idolized Alyssa Norxis with the childish innocence of one whose mother had died young and father never bothered to come home. Left to wandering the streets at twelve, she did whatever necessary to survive. Adept at pick-pocketing the wallets of wealthy nobles, she expanded her skills into acquiring all manner of goods. Her thin stature and unimposing demeanor meant she blended in with the background. Melissah made a wonderful thief. But even a thief, blinded by hunger, made mistakes.

On one of the queen's routine rides through Olisgard, she spotted the young woman swiping a loaf of bread from a stall at the market. Caught and rightly terrified, Melissah spewed her life's misfortunes, groveling in complete hysterics, surely moments away from death or a dungeon, and Melissah wasn't sure which was worse.

Instead of alarming the guard, the queen delivered her own stern judgment. Melissah's punishment was a roof over her head, food on the table, and a proper upbringing in the palace, so long as she swore loyalty to Alyssa Norxis. Only a fool would turn down that offer, however lacking in a choice there was. But only a clever, street-smart vagabond would notice that pledge was to the woman, not the Queen of Norr. Melissah had spent four peaceful years happily obliging.

And as such, the market was somewhere she was very familiar with.

O.O.O.O.O

Dominick Kenos liked to think himself a patient man. However, after enduring an hour-long breakfast listening to the peerage of Norr bicker and banter over every trivial thing, he'd run out of that patience. His gaze drifted to the empty chair beside him. He hoped Alyssa was alright.

The door to the great hall flew open, slamming against the wall, and two royal guards rushed towards the head of the table. "Your grace, there's been an incident," Captain Roberts said, eyeing the watchful, nosey peerage. "Would you please come with me?"

Dominick followed the guards to the hall. "What sort of incident?"

"The Priest from Sekhmet's Temple arrived this morning to convene with the Prophet." The captain's brow furrowed. "He was just found in the kitchen gardens, your grace. Sword wound to his throat. Dead three-quarters of an hour. There was also a guard there with him, slain. His sword and dagger are missing."

Dominick blinked once. Twice.

"My guard had no visible wounds on him anywhere. And his eyes—" Roberts hesitated, armor creaking as he shifted. "Sir, his eyes have gone pure white. He's been cursed."

That word, anathema, an implicit atrocity in this land. There was only one plausible cause.

"Where is the Prophet?" he said.

"Unaccounted for, your grace." The royal guard murmured, hand clenching the grip of his sword at his waist. "The head cook said she hadn't seen either the priest or the prophet this morning. The kitchens were busy and loud. No one heard or saw anything. My men are scouring the grounds as we speak. I've sent carrier birds to all the outposts, the Citadel and Northgate. The prophet isn't getting out the gates of Olisgard without being seen."

Dominick ground his teeth. He should have known—what a fool he had been! She was a Hudar witch, and he let her waltz among the good citizens of his kingdom like any other. She was so polite and reserved, obedient, unobtrusive . . . and it was all a ruse. He'd used her like a pawn, and in turn, she had used him.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned—and she was no mere woman. There was no way he would be able to continue his expedition to the Spire with the prophet loose in the wilds. With all that she'd learned here, and the skills she'd acquired from Khalimat, it would ruin him. Raven had the potential to be a far greater adversary than the mighty Daskis, and Dominick had slighted her. Mocked her. Underestimated her.

Anxiety crept up his throat, tasting of bile. "Send word to Priestess Khalimat in Kebos. Ask her if she knows anywhere the witch might go."

"Sir, presumably she's headed west."

"All the roads from here to Hudar are well guarded. She won't make it to the wilds. She's going to head either north or south first and cross over," he snapped. No, she wouldn't head south. Khalimat was there, as well as the Citadel. Too many obstacles. "North. Send a team north, towards the mountains. We might intercept her if we can get ahead."

"Of course, sir," Captain Roberts said. "I've already sent word to the riders. They're familiar with the passes."

Rapid footsteps sounded, and another guard sprinted towards them wide-eyed. "Your grace! My lord Captain!" he panted, trying to catch his breath as he skidded to a halt. "The stables. The hand and his pages were locked in the feed room. Three horses are gone!"

Dominick's heart gave a shuddering beat. Raven was making devilishly good time. "Which horses? Which are missing?"

The young guard wiped sweat from his brow. "Ah, the queen's black gelding. The new white stallion. And a bay gelding from the soldier's stables."

The Captain nodded, expression stony. "Your grace, the queen informed me early this morning that her maidservant would be taking her horse to the market on an errand. But the stallion and the soldier's horse? Would the witch take two?"

The stallion. He felt the blood leave his face. "Where is Alyssa?" Gaze moving between the three men, his strained calm began to crack. "Where is she? When was the last time anyone saw her? She went for a walk an hour ago, did none of your guards see? Where is she?"

With a curt gesture from the Captain, the two guards sprinted away. "Did the queen go to the stables, you think? The new stallion is a fine steed. Surely she just took him for a ride."

"Possibly. She wanders when she's upset." He ran both hands through his hair, gazing at the high ceiling of the hall. Would the prophet seek out the queen as a means to get back at him? Would Alyssa be able to recognize the maliciousness of the witch before it was too late? She's distracted. She had a bad dream. Needed some fresh air. There was something on her mind. He had the sudden overwhelming fear that he might never find out what that something was.

Roberts lowered his voice. "Do you think the witch would abduct the queen?"

Unadulterated panic surged through him, violently acrid. It was possible—anything was possible. Hands fisted in the Captain's uniform, he jerked the man close. "Find my wife. Bring the witch to me—alive. Am I clear? Bring her to me!"

O.O.O.O.O

Playing with the coin purse in her pocket, Melissah wove her way through the crowd, headed for the less amiable section at the eastern side of the market. Santiago Sucocci was a familiar name from her younger, less dignified days. His obscure stone shop looked just as she'd remembered. An ominous mystery as the end of the road, with stained glass windows and macabre décor.

A heavy man leaned against the wall near the entrance, picking his filthy nails with a hunting knife. Melissah ignored his hungry gaze and let herself in the front door. The old wood rattled a dull bell above the threshold, and as the door slammed shut, a figure emerged from a doorway across the large room.

As always, Santiago dressed from head to toe in an elaborately crafted outfit. Ebony and auburn, a contrasting pattern distinctly eastern in design. The close-fitting attire showed off broad shoulders, a trim waist, and accentuated his considerable height. To this day, she had never seen his face. No one had. A sleek, utilitarian mask hid the man's true identity. Only his left eye was visible, black as sin and accented by a smear of orange on the mask. It suited him somehow, this theatrical garb.

"Now here's a face I haven't seen in ages," he said, voice low and smooth as cream. With a few long strides he towered over her. "How you've grown, little thief. You look like a noble's daughter on her way to court. Very becoming."

"It has been a while," she admitted, somewhat guilty. She hadn't visited this end of the market in years. "The queen made me an offer I couldn't refuse."

"I'd heard." She couldn't see it, but his voice suggested a smile. "Alyssa Norxis isn't someone you should aim to disappoint."

"And I don't. You're aware I'm here on her behalf?"

"I am aware." Santiago turned on his toes in a flourish, arms outstretched. He moved behind the counter and retrieved a small brown package wrapped in twine. "It was a peculiar request, I must admit. Especially with what one hears these days."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I say. This package contains something completely unremarkable—disappointing, even. But when coupled with certain knowledge, it's most interesting."

She rolled her eyes. Santiago enjoyed riddles, and while they may come across as harmless, Melissah was no fool. "Do you ever really say what you mean?"

With a chuckle, the fence extended his hand, palm upright. "That is an expensive question, my dear."

"You wouldn't answer even if I had the coin to bribe you with."

"You always were a clever one."

She placed the queen's coin purse in Santiago's hand and tugged the package closer. It was soft somewhat, firmer in other places. Clothing, perhaps? Or was it leather? She didn't dare open it.

Santiago made the purse vanish with a wave of his fingers. "Tell me, have there been any new arrivals at the palace?"

"You know as well as I that all the peerage in the kingdom is in Olisgard. They attended the celebration for the so-called victory in Hudar."

"I sense discontentment from the queen's favorite attendant." The man leaned on his elbows, mimicking her posture. "Something amiss with Kenos' ambitious expedition into uncharted lands?"

"It doesn't really matter what I think, now does it?"

"My dear, what you think is the only things that matters. You can tell your old friend. We've known one another long enough."

"You want information out of me? Santiago, that's going to cost you."

Drumming his fingers on the counter, he glanced at the package, then to the door, before settling that one eye on her. "I've heard the Hudar prophet has stayed in the palace these past three months' time, free to wander as a citizen."

"That's correct."

"And even the priest guardian from the south has left. Raven of the Hudar has been residing under the same roof as the sovereignty of Norr, and absolutely nothing strange has occurred? She hasn't smothered them in her sleep? Painted the halls with blood?"

"Everyone goes on about how much of a barbarian she is. Like she's liable to snap at any moment. I think it's a load of pig shit."

Santiago snorted. "Go on."

"Granted, she's rough around the edges, but she's also one of the most respectable people I've ever met. She's . . . humble. Intelligent. Kind."

Santiago leaned forward. "You've met her?"

She smiled. "I'm sensing envy from Norr's most notorious fence. Have you never met a Hudar before? I suspect most Norrians haven't. She's certainly quite interesting."

"You're fond of the prophet, I see. Very peculiar indeed." He stroked his chin. "I must meet this witch."

"You'd have to leave the market for that. Are you even allowed within a hundred paces of the palace?"

"It's only a matter of timing. Eventually our paths with cross. Like ours have again, Melissah." Straightening, Santiago pushed the package closer to her. "Tell the queen that I do so approve of her tastes, will you?"

With a lopsided smile, she snatched the package and nestled it under one arm. "I'll be sure to, my lord Santiago."

He clasped his hands behind his back. "I assume it's too much to hope that you might take interest in a few odd jobs now and then? No one can ever follow simple directions anymore. I think care has dwindled in the thieving community."

"You do miss me! You old boar."

Santiago's eye rolled, and with an elegant gesture, he pointed to the door. "Be gone, little thief. Lest I send my street dogs to find you and collect upon the debt I'm owed."

The following silence dragged far too long. She hesitated in the doorway. "I owe you no debt."

Santiago's eye narrowed. "If you recall, you were on an errand for me when you were caught stealing bread by the queen. I paid you in advance. Foolish of me, perhaps, but you never gave me reason to fret."

Santiago was after something, placing her on dangerous ground. "What do you want in return?"

Tilting his head to the side, the masked man paced the few feet separating them. His cool, gloved hand trailed a finger across her cheek. "When you acquire some interesting information, I expect you to share. That is all."

Relief eased her shoulders. That wasn't too terrible a request. "You have my word. Anything interesting and you will know of it." With one last parting smile, Melissah scurried out the door.

O.O.O.O.O

Alyssa had transformed into a bundle of anxiety swathed in pretty clothes. Harboring a fugitive, lending her aid in escape, giving her disguise and means. Her rational mind did nothing but repeat this fear over and over again, but her heart beat with such vibrant pride that it drowned out all else. Regardless of the consequences, she wouldn't rather be anywhere else at this moment. There was even something inherently exciting about fleeing Olisgard on a spur of the moment decision. Could she really just throw away all that she'd gained for this uncertain future? She was wound too tightly with nervousness to tell.

Pace at a quick trot, she led them further west on the main road. They hadn't run into a single complication since leaving the stables. Citizens and country folk waved them by, none the wiser. Word hasn't spread yet. Maybe they hadn't found the bodies. Rounding the bend in the road, the heavily patrolled western gate came into view. The great wall surrounding Olisgard rose twenty feet high, constructed of granite mined from the mountains in the north. To this day, the walls had never been breached.

"We need a plan." Alyssa checked her mount to allow Raven's shorter bay to catch up. "When we get out the gates, where do you aim to go?"

Silent, the Hudar studied the sky. "Alyssa—the ravens."

Three carrier birds flew swiftly ahead of them, traveling west with purpose. "I see them. Just follow my lead." She drove her horse into an easy canter.

"North," Raven said, keeping pace. "We head north."

Alyssa eased her horse back to a trot just as they neared the gates. A dozen guards studied them as they approached. Moment of truth. Sweet gods, be merciful.

"Your grace, what a lovely sight you make in the morning sunshine!" An archer shouted from atop the tower.

"Oh, stop." She feigned embarrassment.

Guards standing near the opened gate grinned at one another. The lieutenant put his hands on his hips and whistled. "Great Zeus, your grace. Is that a new horse? Look at that gait. He's a might bit full of himself, isn't he?"

"Indeed." She ruffled the stallion's mane. "I thought I'd take him for a nice ride this morning. Let him stretch his legs. I've brought my servant along, so you needn't worry about me."

As they passed a trio of loud soldiers, Raven's horse spooked. He sidestepped, tail swishing as she circled him back in line.

"Oy, you lot quiet down." The lieutenant stepped towards Raven. "Easy now, miss. Keep hold of him."

Alyssa forced herself not to look at Raven. Her very skin pricked and crawled with worry. "Have your men been to the palace since the celebration? It's so far away from the fete out here. I do hope your captain let you enjoy yourselves last night. If only a little bit." She winked.

They all laughed.

"We've never left our post, your grace. But we toasted to Norr's victory," the lieutenant said. "Don't stray too far, I think it's going to rain. I'd hate for you to get caught in a storm."

Dark clouds lurked in the western sky, and the scent of rain carried on the cool breeze.

"I do think you're right." She glanced at Raven, silent and eyes downcast, and swallowed the rock in her throat. The lieutenant's gaze weighed heavy on her, spurring a bout of nausea. For Athena's sake, you're the queen. Just go. "Thank you for the concern, lieutenant. We'll be quick about it. Come along, Sara! See if you can keep up!" She heeled the stallion into a gallop and barreled through the gate.

The guards cheered.

"Your grace, wait!" Raven yelled.

Alyssa looked over her shoulder. Raven raced after her, grinning ear to ear.

O.O.O.O.O

Atop the tower, the guards shouted encouragement as the two women raced north across the open field surrounding the city. The lieutenant snatched an apple from his bag and took a bite. Alyssa Norxis grew up on the back of a horse. The poor servant girl didn't stand a chance. When the two women disappeared into the tree line, he headed to the tower.

"We've received a raven from the palace!" A guard shouted down the stairwell.

"Quit your yelling. I'll be up in a moment." He'd had too much wine last night, and was feeling a bit out of it this morning. They all were.

"Sir, you better come quickly!"

The alarm in that tone made his teeth itch. The lieutenant dashed up the winding staircase and strode into the main room of the watch tower. A gangly raven sat perched on the open window sill, with eerie black eyes and alien expression. Without a word, the guard handed him a rolled up note.

Lips pressed in a thin, he read over the incident at the palace. Shit. He crumpled the note in his fist and pointed to the door. "Seal the gates. Nothing gets in or out," he snapped. "The Hudar prophet has slain two men and is on the run. I want all eyes vigilant, you hear me? And send your fastest riders to fetch the queen."

The guard scurried to the steps, shouting the orders back down to the awaiting men. Loud voices echoed in the watch tower as the royal guard came to full attention. The massive, heavy gate groaned slowly towards the ground.

A second raven fluttered in the window, jostling the first with a nasty squawking sound. They pecked at one another, making an awful racket.

"What is it now?" He snatched the thin note from the bird's ankle. Every ounce of warmth drained from his face.

"What is it, sir?" the guard asked.

"The queen . . . has been missing more than an hour?" His gaze shifted to the window.

Missing? She just went for a morning ride. Nothing out of the ordinary. She didn't seem the least bit concerned of anything just a moment ago. In fact, she seemed quite happy, and accompanied by a maidservant from the palace. The woman hadn't said a word, but her horse seemed a bit skittish. Due to the men, perhaps. Or maybe . . .

A stray thought caught his attention. "What color hair did the servant have? The one riding with the queen, on the bay horse."

"Black. I believe the queen called her Sara." The guard blinked. "Her hair was black . . . in a long braid. Sir, I don't think—"

"None of the servants in the palace have black hair! They're all from Olisgard. Brown or blonde is all we breed here! Sound the alarm, send a team after the queen—she doesn't know that's the prophet!"

Snatching a blank note roll, the lieutenant scratched a quick note to the palace. He secured it to the raven's leg and shooed the bird off the window, watching it flap its ugly wings towards the palace. His heart firmly lodged between his tonsils. He had let the Hudar murderer march through the gates with the Queen of Norr.

The king would have his head for this.

O.O.O.O.O

Melissah grew wary as she neared the stables. A mass of guards readied horses, shouting curt orders. Tension hung heavy in the air. One man noticed her and came striding out of the stables, grabbing her horse's reins before she could slip away unnoticed.

"What's your name, girl? And why do you ride the queen's horse?"

"My lord, I am Melissah Rossario, the queen's maidservant," she replied tightly. They should know that. The queen told them she was going to be out. "Is something wrong?"

"Captain, over here!" The guard shouted, then held a hand up to her. "Dismount. Quickly!"

Melissah took his hand and he practically wrenched her to the ground. She clutched the package beneath her arm. Another guard snatched the reins and led the black gelding away. Before she could inquire the problem, a tall, stern-faced man approached, bearing the mark of captain.

Stark grey uniform highlighted by shining armor, even his boots held the air of importance. Something in his pale expression churned her stomach.

"My lord." She curtsied.

"You are Melissah?" He looked her over. "You're not dressed as a servant."

A might bit conceited, aren't we? "The queen decides what I wear, my lord. This was what I was given. If you'll excuse me, I've been on an errand for her majesty. I'm to report back to her immediately." She turned to leave, but a hand grasped her firmly at the elbow and jerked her back a step.

"The queen is missing," Captain Roberts snapped.

"What?!" she blurted. "But—I just saw her and hour ago, maybe a little longer! In the hall near the courtyard!"

He eyed the package under her arm. "What was the errand?"

She held it tighter. "The queen forbade me from speaking of it to anyone. All I can say is that I went to the market and returned." Alyssa was missing? But—how? Did it have something to do with the package?

The Captain dragged her towards a young, freshly trained guard. "Take her to the king. No stops—understood?"

"Yes, sir," the guard nodded.

Captain Roberts stormed off, leaving the two blinking at one another.

Melissah felt a shiver of fear creep down her spine. The king wanted to see her? Troubling news. The package seemed to grow as heavy as a bolder in her arms.

"Come with me, miss." The guard gently took her by the arm. He had a kind face. "I'm sorry for the Captain's gruffness. It's been quite a morning."

Aqua. His eyes were the lovely color of the sea. Black hair peeked past the edges of his helmet. He can't be more than eighteen. Young and inexperienced. A smile tug at the corner of her lips. He would be easy to get away from.

She patted his hand on her arm. "And who might you be, my lord?"

Flashing a shy smile, he held the door to the palace proper for her. "Grayson, my lady. From Yales."

The southern province, then. That would explain the dark hair. But blue eyes? Must have some northern blood in him, though it definitely didn't help with his height. "Well Grayson, I must ask. All these guards assembled here are not just looking for the Queen. Besides, she can't be missing. Surely she went for a walk or something. So why so many guards?"

He shook his head. "My lady, I cannot say."

Quite green if he addresses me as my lady. They headed down the hall towards the stairs. If an incident had occurred, the king would be in his main chambers in the western tower, convening with his generals. Or, he would be in the courtyard addressing the guard. Either way, Melissah had the sinking suspicion that whatever the king wanted from her would pertain to this package.

She would not betray Alyssa, no matter who demanded. Escape danced in her mind, reminiscent of her old days on the street. It would be a simple task, like the sleight of hand. One moment she'd be there, and the next poor Grayson would find himself standing alone without his charge.

"Very well then," she sighed. "But must you hold my arm like that? I'm a servant, not a criminal."

Startled, Grayson let go. "My apologies—I don't think of you as such." He indicated the stone staircase. Indeed, they were headed for the western tower. "This way, my lady."

Eyeing him, Melissah gathered her skirt in her free hand and took the steps one at a time. "If I may ask, my lord Grayson, what made you want to become a royal guard?"

He glanced up ahead. "My father was a soldier. I aim to be like him one day."

"Was?"

"He was killed in Hudar. Last year. He was one of the first ranks to reach the mountains."

"I'm sorry to hear that." She studied the curve of the steps.

Ahead of them would be an alcove with a hidden nook leading to the servant's quarters. The passageways were how the servants could travel to and fro without being seen, unobtrusive and silent. They also had their other uses.

A few steps away from escape, Melissah steeled her nerves. "I'm sure you will do him honor, Lord Grayson. You seem to be a good man, and we've so little of them these days."

"My lady, you flatter me—"

She pressed on the smooth stone, engaging a hidden door within the curved walls. In half a moment, she'd slipped inside and closed the door. With each step she shed an article of clothing, until nothing but her under garments remained. Her next task would be difficult, and she had just the right outfit in mind.

Melissah emerged from an alcove on the far side of the palace dressed in common street garb. Slinging a tattered bag over one shoulder, she hurried to the doors. With the quiet grace learned within these walls, she slipped past a group of bickering guards and took to the streets of Olisgard with steadfast determination. She would find the queen and deliver her package, even if it was the last task she'd ever undertake.

O.O.O.O.O

Alyssa and Raven raced as if the very ghouls of hell were at their heels, driving onward north until their mounts began to tire. After an hour's time, the sparsely wooded grassland gave way to a thick deciduous forest. Alyssa cursed under her breath as branches and thorns snagged her elegant riding attire, whipped her face, tangled in her hair.

Raven wove through the trees with an innate sense of the forest, ducking and weaving without much difficulty. Her shorter, less bulky horse had an easier time in the woods, and they took the lead, aiming to put as much distance between them and Olisgard as possible. They stopped at a shallow creek bed, letting their horses drink and rest.

Alyssa tugged a briar from her hair. "How long do you think we have before the lieutenant figures out that you weren't a palace servant?"

"They already know." Raven dug in the saddle bag, retrieved her stolen sword and secured it around her waist. "The question is how long before they catch us."

"We've an admirable head-start, you must admit."

"Admirable isn't the word I would choose."

"Well, aren't you a cynical absconder."

Raven didn't even glance in her direction. She stooped by her horses feet and ran her hands down his legs.

Alyssa frowned. "What's troubling you?"

Only the subdued babble of the creek replied, ticking by with the long seconds.

"Raven, look at me."

Violet eyes snapped to meet hers, harboring a trace of anguish. "I would have rather you didn't come, that's all."

Torment weighed down her light mood. "I do hope that's not because you fear I will slow you down."

Raven glanced in the direction they'd fled from. "I fear something will happen to you, Alyssa. Something terrible, because of me."

"Stop it," she snapped. "You did not force me to come. You made a choice and I made mine. Do not think to lessen that because you feel misplaced guilt."

Raven stalked over and stood eye to eye with her, only a few inches shorter. Even in servant's clothing and a neat braid, she had the look of the wild to her. "I feel no guilt—only agony. And you seek to add to it by being a fool!"

"I am no fool—"

"You're betraying the very nation you rule for one barbaric, wretched witch!" The words were seeped in self-loathing, but they stung Alyssa's flesh like a lash.

She grasped Raven's shoulders, keeping her close when she tried to pull away. "You are not wretched." She waited for those haunted eyes to look at her again. "Raven, you are not barbaric. You are not a lesser being. I'm not so blinded by your strange charm to miss the wild in you—"

Raven's expression went blank, a strong, impenetrable mask snapping in place.

"—but that does not frighten me."

"It should," she whispered.

"You don't frighten me," Alyssa said. "There's very little surety in this world. I've met countless people—citizens of Norr—who would drive a blade in my back without hesitation if they believed they could get away with it. They smile and nod and lie to my face. They steal and cheat, mislead and scheme. Evil, truly wretched creatures nobles are. But you…" She brushed a stray hair off Raven's cheek, studying her alabaster face, flush with exertion. "I know in my very soul that you will never betray me. I can see it in your eyes."

The hardness crumbled from Raven's face. She cleared her throat and looked away. "We ride for Jamestown, then. Hopefully we can procure supplies before someone catches us. You they will be happy to see. Myself, however, they will probably flay alive."

"You will never be caught." She pulled Raven into a fierce hug and lingered in the comfort of that embrace. She catalogued her scent, the smoothness of that neck, the strength in those arms. Letting go came to soon. "Where do we head after Jamestown?"

Facing west, an odd little smile replaced the usual frown on Raven's face. A cool wind whispered through the trees, making the loose hairs dance around her face. "We tackle the badlands and ride for Hudar."