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“But what if you sent a raven in your place?”
My hands stilled, and I looked at him.
“Hear me out.” Callon held up his palms. “What if you sent word to Del and had her meet you somewhere? That might be safer than going into the city, especially since we don’t know whether the queen is after you.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “What if someone sees the raven or learns of our meeting? It needs to be a surprise visit, and I want to be there—for Del to see me—so I can weigh the truth in her eyes.”
“You’re assuming you’ll even get to see her, Fin,” Lyra countered. “What if the queen has guards waiting for you? What if she knows it’s you in the desert, and this is one of her schemes?”
As much as I hated Queen Corisande, it was hard to fathom her caring much about what I did. The queen had what she wanted. Del was still by her side. She’d even helped her mother forge the most powerful alliance possible within the Seven Kingdoms. And her mother had already exacted her vengeance and killed my people.
“The queen probably assumes I’m dead with the rest of my family and has no reason to come after me again.” I shook my head, almost certain it was true. “This isn’t personal. Not this time. And I am no threat to the queen.”
Twigs snapped beneath my boots as I strode to Dusty, basking in the morning sunlight. “She wouldn’t waste her energy and resources on me. This hassecret agendawritten all over it, just like her bloodletting from before...I just have to put the pieces together.”
Reticent as they were, Lyra and Callon tended to their own bed rolls before saddling their horses.
“Besides,” I added. “We’ll be dressed as Sierra soldiers going into the city. They won’t know it’s me.” I ran my hand down Dusty’s gray forehead. He nipped at my shirt, coaxing me to give him an apple as payment for riding all day again. I shoved his head away playfully and heaved his saddle onto his back. “All right, bud. Be patient.”
“About the uniforms,” Callon started, flipping his dagger from blade to hilt. “Will we have Sierra blood on our hands by the time we’re done? Or are we knocking them out in their sleep?”
I cinched Dusty’s saddle and reached into my pack for an apple. “I guess that depends on how it goes over the next two days, but either way, we have to wait until we’re close to the city. Assuming the envoy is communicating telepathically with their point person, we can’t give their contact lead time to come snooping around when the men fail to check in.” If I wasn’t mistaken, Callon looked disappointed by that, and my eyebrow arched of its own accord. “Why? Are you getting restless already?”
Callon tucked his bedroll under his arm. “I’ve got all this pent-up energy and did all that training before we left. And all we’ve done is eat and walk—”
“That’s allyou’vebeen doing,” Lyra interjected, making Callon grin with a nod of truth.
I couldn’t help myself. I reached for Callon as he walked past and wrapped him in a headlock.
“Son of a bitch,” Callon grunted.
“You want to expel some energy?” I asked with a chuckle.
“That’s a dick move, Finlay!”
I laughed louder and let him go, both of us breaking off into a defensive stance as we stared at one another, waiting for the other to strike. “Let’s do this,” I told him and took a step forward.
Callon jabbed me in the abs before I knocked his feet from under him, and he landed on the ground. He was fast, though, more agile than me as I caught my breath from his sucker punch, and he jumped back onto his feet before I could blink.
“Oh, I’m coming for you, Fin,” he warned, and as we blocked each other’s jabs and roundhouses, I reveled in a moment of levity. Lyra goaded us both as she finished saddling her mare, and I realized I missed our morning grappling sessions and the comfort of routine.
“Guys—they’re under attack!” Lyra blurted as I locked Callon in an armbar.
I released him, and we both straightened, our chests heaving and my pulse pounding in my ears.
“What?” Callon gasped, cinching his gun belt around him. “Attack?”
“Ferals!” she called.
I holstered my shotgun into the strap on my back and grabbed my bow and quiver as Dusty clomped over. I jumped onto his back.The men in the woods,I told Tick. Danger.I pictured the envoy we’d been following, and with a mixture of thoughts and urgency, I sent Tick ahead to scope out whatever was happening until we could get there.
Within seconds, Callon and Lyra fell into step beside me, and we made our way through the forest.
I didn’t push Dusty too hard or too fast. I wanted to know what we were up against or if we even needed to get involved at all. Assuming the Ferals prevailed, the envoy dying at their hands was to our advantage. No one would question what happened to the mercs or why.
As the three of us rode through riverbeds and wove around the thick bases of the redwood trees, I connected with Tick, who was jetting through the brush.
I’d always had a strange hesitation when it came to killing Ferals. I knew I should fear and hate them for murdering my parents and for the havoc they’d wreaked on many of the lives around me. But was it murder when all a person knew was base instinct and a primal need to protect their kin? Their territory? Or to attack out of fear? I wouldn’t shoot a territorial bear if I ventured too close to her den unless I was forced to. That’s what Ferals were—humans reduced to creatures, and the connection I’d always had with the animals wouldn’t let me hate them, not entirely.
