EVAN DIDN’T LIKE THIS. He didn’t like the feeling of unseen eyes watching him. He didn’t like how exposed they were out on this open plain. And he especially did not like how everyone seemed to assume that the danger was past.
As soon as the wagons creaked back into open country, the guards relaxed into banter and even the horses seemed to plod with a lazy confidence that set his teeth on edge.
These people were too used to this road. Too used to thinking it belonged to them. Too used to thinking they were untouchable.
Evan knew better.
He moved closer to the line and walked beside the wagon where Ruby and Isla rode, his gaze flicking constantly between the horizon, the moorland, and the road behind. There was nothing in sight but that didn’t lessen his unease.
A cluster of guards behind him began a low, rhythmic work song, their voices carrying over the rattle of wheels. It was an old song—Evan recognized the cadence, though he’d never cared for the lyrics—and soon enough others joined in, Duncan up front humming along.
Evan didn’t join in. He glanced toward Ruby. She sat stiffly on the wagon’s bench beside Isla, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles were bone-white. The breeze tugged loose strands of hair across her cheek, but she seemed not to notice. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon, but not in the way of someone sightseeing. In the way of someone scanning for threats.
He almost smiled.Good. She’s learning.
A gust of wind lifted dust from the road. The song around him rose in volume. Someone laughed.
And that was when Evan saw them.
Three figures on horseback crested a ridge ahead. Dark shapes against the gray-green scrub, riding slowly, but cutting a direct line toward the wagons.
Evan stopped. He felt his attention hone into a focus so sharp it felt like cold steel sliding into place. He swung up onto the wagon’s step, ignoring Isla’s startled intake of breath, and stood atop the sacks to gain height and a clearer angle. The riders dipped behind a fold in the land, then reappeared, moving with deliberate confidence.
He instinctively knew they were not travelers. Or farmers. Or anyone who might have a legitimate reason to be out here in the middle of nowhere.
“Damn it!” He jumped down and jogged to the front of the column, boots kicking up dust that had the guards yelling at him in annoyance.
Duncan sat astride his mare with the relaxed posture of a man who’d been on this road half his life. He turned at the sound of Evan’s approach, eyebrows rising.
“Problem, lad?”
“Three riders on the ridge. Coming this way.”
Duncan’s eyes flashed. “Where?”
Evan pointed. The merchant squinted into the distance. His jaw clenched—but to his credit, he didn’t panic. He nodded once, sharply, the way a man acknowledges weather turning foul.
“Ye have good eyes,” he murmured.
The sound of footsteps made Evan turn. Ruby stood behind him.
“There’s another group,” she said. “On the left. By those trees.”
Evan looked in that direction. Yes—there they were. Four riders shadowing the caravan from the far side, keeping to a broken line of stunted pines.
“Well spotted,” he muttered, surprised that Ruby had noticed something he hadn’t.
Duncan turned in his saddle and gave a series of commands. “Quietly,” he said under his breath. “No need to let our friends know we’ve noticed them.”
The guards dispersed, breaking into a prearranged formation, hands drifting toward sword hilts and pistols.
Isla slid off the wagon seat and hurried around the back. She began grabbing satchels and bags containing valuables—herbs,spices, coin—and pushing them into hidden compartments beneath the wagon’s bed.
“I want a weapon,” Ruby said.
Evan shook his head. “No.”
“Why not?”
