Departing from the church, I noticed again the busyness of Shakerton. The dilapidated town of a few days before had vanished. Instead, it crawled with soldiers who strode about, heads high, chainmail clinking.

  I looked around, glancing away again quickly as a trio of soldiers squinted at me, trying to peer beneath the hood of my cloak. The mist was fair this morning, and no snow fell from the sky overhead. There were fewer Hume women out than when I’d arrived and unlike me, the ones who did brave the cold wore their hair uncovered, their cloaks draped off their shoulders to emphasize low necklines and better catch the soldiers’ eyes.

  The hood marked me as Lifkin as assuredly as my ears. I pulled it more tightly around myself anyway, sticking to the storefronts rather than the center of the street. At least that way I’d have soldiers only on one side rather than approaching from all directions.

  I hurried past the tavern wishing I could return and see the tavern keeper. I’d ward off the morning’s chill and my own nerves with another steaming beverage or a measure of whiskey.

  Would Hytham be long in meeting me at the stables? It hadn’t struck me until passing the tavern that the adjudicator could be setting me up for some kind of trap, but I trusted my instincts and the feeling of trust he inspired. What was less sure was whether or not the herald would notice his absence and what trouble that might cause. From the little I’d seen of adjudicators, they’d always remained close by their heralds except on the day they took my sister. If there had been a herald there, he hadn’t been nearby.

  Unfortunately for my purposes, the tavern couldn’t help in any of these questions. They were ones only experience rather than gos could answer.

  “Aye!” A soldier shouted at me from the center of the street. I hesitated. The stables were still several dozen paces from where he stopped me, stomping over, waddling on his squat legs and drawing himself up to full height an inch or two above my own. “Whassit?” he growled, squinting at me. Even with my hood, I knew my eyes glowed brightly enough for him to discern my origin. “Yer one o’ them pointy-eared people from up in the mountains.”

  I drew back without backing away. “I, umm, yes.”

  “Well what’re you doin’ here?”

  I bit my lower lip, searching for a believable explanation. I’m here to meet an adjudicator and free the wrongfully entrapped prisoner didn’t seem like the right reply in this instance. He did not possess Hytham’s aura of trustworthiness. “I came into town to see my cousin.”

  “She one o’ you too then?”

  “Y-yes. But she lives here.” I left out Parrith and the baby for fear of incensing the man before me. Such matters were delicate among both Lifkin and Hume, depending.

  He eyed me closely, squinting his eyes nearly to shut.

  “B-but I’m heading to the stables now. I’m returning.”

  “The stables?” His eyes brightened and he gestured for me to proceed ahead. To my dismay, he matched his waddling steps beside mine.

  I walked slowly and with purpose. Where was the adjudicator? There were no familiar faces on the street between us and the stables, no Alfonse hurrying to my side. Why was this soldier following me?

  I was too disconcerted to make idle conversation as we went, so I focused on disguising the signs of my distress instead—head up, hands free and loose, no fidgeting with my hood.

  “Many years I’ve been a foot soldier for the baron,” he said as we walked. “I wasn’t so sure about coming up here, but looks like my fortunes are changing.”

  I paid little heed to his self-congratulations as I was occupied instead with weighing whether it would be more dangerous for me to enter into the stables with one strange soldier or for him to become hostile in the street and call over several more.

  I searched the grounds for the stablehand but found him absent. One soldier, I could handle if I had to. A half-dozen, and I wouldn’t be able to help Bansaerin. They’d lock me away too or worse.

  “Let’s see about this horse of yours girlie.”

  I stopped just inside the stable doors. “Why are you so interested in my horse?”

  His crooked grin worsened his leer. The Hume crossed his arms over his chest and looked down his nose at me. “She’ll be the source of my change in fortunes. I’d be up for a near-instant promotion.”

  How was I to respond to such ludicrous bluster? I willed Gwinny to remain in her paddock in the same moment she whinnied for me, poking her head over the door.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “That her? A beaut, despite the nonsense you’ve put in her mane. What’re they? Beads? I can remove those easily enough.” He strode toward Gwinny, and all sense of trepidation left me.

  I rushed forward and interposed myself between them. “Maybe you didn’t hear me well enough earlier—you’re not going to take my horse.”

  The grin fell, and his cold, dark eyes narrowed further. With a shing of metal on metal, he withdrew the shortsword from his belt. “And who’re you to stop me?”

  I darted toward Gwinny, hoping that if I could release her from the paddock and swing up onto her back, we could ride far enough away that she’d be safe from this imbecile and I could return on a different horse.

  The Hume grabbed for my wrist by the paddock lock, but I darted back. “A feisty one, are yeh?”

  My heart was pounding in my ears. I had just wanted to fetch Gwinny and return to the forest. My throat constricted. Why he felt so entitled to take her from me—but I knew the answer to that.

  “Don’t touch her!” I shouted as the rider wriggled himself between me and Gwinny.

  He faced me and adjusted the grip on his sword.

  I shivered as the shadows pooled to my fingertips. I could call the poison again like I had that day in the alley.

  Behind the soldier, Gwinny neighed in fright. She lashed out toward him, snapping her teeth at his arm and tearing his sleeve.

  Gwinny tossed her mane just as the rider spun back toward her, surprised by her attack, his mouth hanging agape.

  Lithely, she turned about in her paddock. With a second nicker, she threw back her hind legs and kicked open the door. The latch ricocheted away as the wood splintered, and the paddock door flew open.

  The soldier dodged the paddock door just in time, his attention divided.

  She kicked again, this time toward the soldier’s head. Gwinny’s hoof struck the rider’s metal helmet with a clang. He staggered backward, waving his arms as he lost his balance. His metal helmet had caved in against his forehead, and blood obscured most of the features of his face.

  With a groan, he fell to the ground, unconscious, I hoped.

  “Gwinny, we have to go!” I fitted her saddle as quickly as I could. If someone were to enter and find the soldier unconscious and only me to blame—but such things would have to be weathered if they occurred. For now, we had to get out.

  I leapt onto Gwinny’s back and tugged on her reins. “Not too fast now,” I murmured. “Don’t let them catch us, but don’t be in too great a hurry.”

  She chuffled her agreement and trotted out of the stables. I didn’t look back over my shoulder at the soldier. He hadn’t moved since he’d clanked to the ground.

  I whipped at the reins a little, my nerves getting the better of me as we rode out of town. “We can pick up,” I encouraged her. We had to get out of town and, from the edge of the forest, we could determine what the collective action of the soldiers would be.

  Once we were out of the gate and away from easy spying from the walls, I glanced back. My chest constricted—a black rider appeared in the stable yard. The horse and rider made no effort at the casual retreat Gwinny and I had. The moment they gained the street, the dark brown stallion with a near-black mane broke into a canter.

  I tightened my grip on the reins and pulled Gwinny to a stop halfway to the forest edge. “They’re heading toward us.”

  Bansaerin had taught me where to find a secret forest path, one unknown to the Hume that would lead back to our clan. I directed Gwinny toward the main path instead. We’d break for the other at the last moment and lose the pursuing rider.

  Just as I prepared to lash the reins to flee the rider, I recognized the set of the broad shoulders and the curls of light brown hair. “Hytham.” I sighed, relaxing against Gwinny’s saddle. We wouldn’t have to flee after all.

  I studied the adjudicator as he approached. He was a fine rider, mindful of his horse and confident in himself. The stallion’s muscles rippled in his chest as the two approached. Hytham slowed the horse to a trot and drew up beside me. He’d chosen a plain black tabard to pull over his chainmail. I far preferred it to the white of the Order.

  The adjudicator was somewhat breathless. The corners of his eyes narrowed as he looked me and Gwinny over. “There was a soldier in the stables,” he said finally, pulling his horse to a halt.

  I signaled the same to Gwinny, chewing my lower lip. If I kept enough details to myself, he might continue on with little assistance from me.

  “Was he there when thou entered?”

  He had technically walked in before me, hadn’t he? Or had he paused for me at the door? “In a manner of speaking . . . yes.”

  The adjudicator furrowed his brow. “His helmet was dented.”

  I bit my lower lip. A horse hoof will do that. “Ye-es.”

  “I tended to him before I left. He’d been knocked senseless.” Hytham leveled his gaze with mine, and I sighed, looking away.

  “He wanted to take my horse.”

  “What?” His suspicion faded to confusion.

  “The soldier. He wanted to take Gwinny from me. I told him that he couldn’t and, well, Gwinny did too. She kicked him in the head and bit his arm.”

  His lips parted as though he’d never heard of such a thing though, to be fair, he hadn’t grown up with Bansaerin’s warnings echoing in his ears or Uncle’s constant reminders to be both wise and cautious. “He tried to take thy horse?”

  I nodded.

  “Did he tell thou why?”

  This seemed to be a favorite question of his but, as before, I suspected he had a better explanation than I did.

  “Will he live?” I had been frightened at the time, but Gwinny and I had no desire to needlessly take a life. Even if the soldier was careless as to my well-being or any sense of justice, it didn’t mean he deserved to die.

  “Yes.” The softness had returned to the Hume’s voice. “Though it remains to be seen whether or not he’ll have the faculties to return to his post.” This last the Hume mumbled to himself as a shadow crossed his brow. I wasn’t sure if Hytham meant that the head injury was such that the soldier was unlikely to fully recover or if he planned to do something in that regard but, either way, it seemed to restore his trust in me for the moment.

  I wanted to deepen that sense a step further, if I could. “Hytham, I’m Draeza. I don’t know that I introduced myself to you earlier.”

  He smiled kindly at me. “A melodic name. A pleasure to meet thee, Draeza.”