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Gods above, will I ever be able to live my life honestly if most people see me as a villain even when I’m helping them?
I don’t let on that I’ve noticed Filip’s anxious glance, just watch him surreptitiously for a few minutes longer. Then I draw Toast to a walk so we fall back to where my men have been bringing up the rear of our procession.
Stavros meets my gaze with a questioning lift of his eyebrows. I offer a noncommittal shrug in return.
When I’m close enough that I’m sure our voices won’t carry to the man we’re monitoring, I guide Toast into the midst of their group and speak under my breath. “I still can’t tell if he’s working against us. He hasn’t used any magic that I’ve sensed.”
Filip has admitted to having a small talent, one he got in exchange for a few toes, but only for encouraging crops to grow. It seems he’s a farmer’s son. Of course, there’s no way to be sure he’s telling the truth about the size of his talent or its purpose.
“He did warn us about the patrols,” Rheave murmurs. “If he wanted us to get caught, wouldn’t he have kept quiet?”
Stavros grimaces. “It could have been a ploy to earn our trust, knowing he’d find out other ways for Lothar to catch us. But if he passed on information about our plans, he didn’t tell them everything. Lothar didn’t realize that there’d be three of us, and he didn’t arrive soon enough to confront us before we broke into the guardhouse.”
My lips twist in a wry smile. “It’d certainly have been easier to overwhelm us with dozens of his people right there.”
Casimir looks toward the younger man and back at us. “I still think that even if he’s acted as an informant to some extent, that doesn’t mean he’s against our cause. We don’t know what pressure Lothar might have put on him, what threats he might have faced if he didn’t comply.”
“We’ll know soon enough if he’s continued to inform,” Alek puts in. “The men Tinom sent to Kevarsi will catch up with us at the temple within a day or two. If they saw the Order of the Wild increasing their patrols and watching for our arrival, that’s all we’ll need to know.”
I adjust my grip on the reins, unable to shed the tightness in my stomach. “If they don’t see that, we’re not in the clear. He simply might not have had the means to pass on the information once we left Florian.”
Stavros gives a soft grunt. “Well, he won’t have much opportunity at the temple either, if the devouts there are as loyal as Tinom believes. We’ll stay alert to any sign of sabotage—from any source.”
“It might not have been a purposeful betrayal in the first place,” Casimir reminds us in his optimistic way. “If anyone in the know made a stray comment within hearing of the wrong person, Lothar could have put the rest of the pieces together on his own.”
I cast my gaze over the two dozen figures traveling with us: three royal guards in their plain clothes at the front, Petra and her siblings behind them flanked by Tinom and one of the clerics, and the rest of our motley assortment of soldiers, devouts, and other miscellaneous allies all the way back to us five.
I can’t help feeling a little glad that we left Baroness Sibille and a few other more prominent citizens back in Florian to continue the resistance there alongside the Black Talons. Her attitude always rubbed me the wrong way.
But any of the supporters still with us stand to gain a lot by being instrumental in putting Petra on the throne… or by preventing her and gaining Lothar’s favor.
I swallow thickly. “We just have to be careful.”
Rheave cranes his neck to the side to look past the riders in front of us. “What’s that up ahead?”
A thick wooden post juts out of the terrain along the side of the road. As we come up on it, uneasiness creeps over my skin.
Tattered bits of what could be ruddy fabric or dried flesh cling to the splintered sides. And a rough symbol is carved into the wood near the top of the post—the All-Giver’s sigil, but inverted the way the scourge sorcerers like to draw it.
I restrain a shiver and yank my gaze away.
Filip is averting his eyes too. Is that a good sign or an attempt at obscuring his true allegiances?
Our procession continues on past the post with the steady clomping of our horses’ hooves. I peer at the open fields around us that stretch to distant patches of forest.
A few figures move around the farms set back from the road, but none of them glance our way. The illusion Tinom cast around us, not having enough charms to conceal us all individually, is still doing its job.
When I asked him how it works, it sounded like he’s using a similar technique to one I adopted on the road with my men before. He’s conjured a vague impression that there’s nothing of interest right where we are and that more compelling sights lie elsewhere.
My magic twitches in my chest, reminding me that I could draw a thicker shield of invisibility around us. I have before with a small group.
Even as my power wriggles against my ribs, a flicker of movement at the edge of my vision makes my head jerk around.
There’s nothing there. I haven’t called on my magic in days now, but my nerves haven’t stopped jumping.
When I return my attention to our group, Casimir is watching me with concern in his dark blue eyes. He’s always the most alert to my mental state.
I offer him a quick smile that I hope will reassure him. What’s happening to me is what it is. There’s nothing he can do to heal the damage my own power has inflicted on my mind.
