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It isn’t as if we’ve been carrying much with us after all this time on the run.
As a safety measure, we spread out our mounts across several stables at varying distances from the apartment. Taking the lay of the land, I make our next turn to take us to the spot where we lodged Toast and a few of the other horses we can call ours.
Rheave looks over at me, his smooth face unusually tight. Worry turns his voice taut. “What if they know about our escape plan?”
Dread sours my mouth. All I can do is shake my head. “We proceed as if they don’t, but we keep our eyes open. If we see any sign that our route out of the city has been compromised, we back up and reconsider.”
Ivy swipes her hair back from her face, her skin still wan but her eyes brightening by the second. “There’s more than one way. We’ll make it out.”
I don’t like to think about how much that effort might take out of her, though.
Tinom assured us that his hidden passage through the city walls was a closely guarded secret, known about only by the royal family and himself, since he’s the one who disguised it. But who knows if King Konram might have trusted his other magic advisors enough to mention it to them?
As we rush into the stable and grab tack for the ride, an emotion that’s more regret than worry twists my stomach. The act of yanking the saddle’s girth tight and the hurried snatching of the bridle are far too familiar.
How many times now have we fled from our enemies, running or riding off into the night?
How many times more will we need to before I can stand and fight the man who’s inflicted so many horrors on our country?
Every military expert knows there are times when you have to cut your losses and lick your wounds so you can come back stronger. But gods above, each failure pierces me right through the middle.
I will destroy Lothar for everything he’s obliterated in my world. I’ll protect the remnants of the royal family, the woman I love, and the strange family we’ve made.
I just don’t know when.
The uncertainty pulls my gut into a knot. Ignoring it, I lead my horse out of the stable with Ivy and Rheave close behind me, scan the street with a jerk of my head, and heft myself into the saddle.
“Let’s ride.”
Sixteen
Ivy
Filip’s head swivels around as he takes in the landscape on either side of the small country road. Then he squints up at the sky. “We’re a little off course for Kevarsi, aren’t we?”
A couple of horse-lengths ahead of us, Tinom catches the question and glances back. The magic advisor keeps his voice carefully even. “We’ve had a slight change in plans. I sent some people ahead to scout out our options, and there’s a better place for us to continue building our resistance.”
Filip looks as if he’s bitten back a protest. From Toast’s back, I study his expression as well as I can without being blatant about it.
Has his face paled a little?
In discussions amongst Petra’s innermost circle after we first regrouped outside Florian, we all agreed that the supposed Order of the Wild defector was the most likely traitor among us. Casimir said he gave every appearance of wanting our help but acknowledged that he might have been desperate not to get away from Lothar but to fulfill whatever plan he’s been sent to carry out.
So we’ve created a test. One of Tinom’s people mentioned to him as if in passing that we were going to head to Kevarsi to try to gather forces farther from Lothar’s current center of power. Since then, we’ve been watching to see if he’s had some way of passing on information back to his former colleagues.
Over the past three days on the less-traveled roads that seem safest, we’ve also been veering gradually more north on our actual course. This is the first time he’s noticed that we can’t possibly be heading to the city.
He doesn’t say anything else, though, simply keeps trotting along on his mare. After a few moments, his gaze darts briefly toward me with a slight tensing of his shoulders.
That’s nothing new. I’ve caught many similar glances over the days since he joined us. Having me anywhere near him obviously sets his nerves jangling.
He knows about my magic, I assume, since Lothar would have spread the word among his followers to beware of me. The first thing he did when he saw me was jerk his hand through the gesture of the divinities, like the noble heir on the summer estate where Lothar held me prisoner.
I can’t hold that against him when Tinom is nearly as wary. I think word might have spread to the soldiers by now, because I’ve noticed them drawing closer around Petra when I go to speak to her in their company.
This morning, one of them partly unsheathed his knife when I walked by.
The memory leaves a hole in my gut. I understand the reactions; I know how everyone thinks about the riven. But the ongoing paranoia is starting to wear on me.
