Katell’s stomach soured. The First Legion.
Arnza muttered a curse. “So much for sneaking in unnoticed.”
They left their horses to graze and crept through tall grasses, crouching low as the biting wind tugged at Katell’s cloak. The faintclinkof armour and low voices drifted from the camp, underscoring the danger ahead.
Her mind raced. She needed to see what lay beyond the flimsy stakewall surrounding the quarry. If Tarxi had seized command, their plan had grown far more perilous. Yet the thought of turning back empty-handed was unbearable. If Leywani was inside, she had to get her out.
Someone would have to create a distraction.
“I’ll ride through camp,” she announced. Her Gifts had their limits, but she could still buy them time. “If Tarxi’s here, I’ll ask to meet him. I’ll keep him occupied while you slip inside. Find Leywani. Get her out. If I’m not back by sunset, you leave. Take her somewhere safe.”
She’d shared every detail she could about Leywani, hoping it would help them find her quickly among the Freefolk.
“There’s a lake north of here—you can’t miss it,” Pinaria said, strands of chestnut hair whipping across her face in the wind. “On the northwestern shore, caves nestle in the hills. We’ll hide there. We’ll wait for you.”
Katell nodded, though her gut twisted with doubt. “Don’t wait too long. Two days at most, or you risk being caught.”
“Kat—”
“I’ll be fine,” Katell cut in, unsure if she was convincing Pinaria or herself. “Worst case, they imprison me and send me to the Emperor. Whatever happens, you two find Leywani. Keep her safe.”
“We promise,” Arnza said, while Pinaria pinched her lips, struggling to hold back tears. Unable to speak, she pulled Katell into a fierce embrace.
“The gods be with you, Kat,” Pinaria whispered, voice choked with emotion. “Be safe.”
“You too,” Katell murmured, her chest tightening as they broke apart. Turning to Arnza, she set a firm hand on his shoulder. “Look after Pinaria.”
“I will.” His unwavering stare met hers with quiet resolve. “I’d do anything for her.”
“I know.” Katell gave a final nod, her heart heavy with unspoken fears. She didn’t linger. With one last glance at Pinaria, she swung onto her horse.
As she led it down the winding path towards the camp, she checked her armour and weapons: the black leather cuirass Dorias had given her, the Rasennan sword at her hip taken from the Twelfth—leaving behind Nik’s Achaean blade—and two daggers tucked into her belt.
That was all.
Her status as Laran’s Chosen would grant some protection, but for how long? She had her Gifts, yes, but she suspected she’d need more than brute strength to handle someone like Tarxi.
The dirt path led to the quarry’s looming entrance gate, towering above the First Legion’s camp. Oddly, all the tents were clustered to one side of the road, leaving the entrance clear—as if even the soldiers feared venturing too close.
Katell rode nearer, and heads turned. Soldiers looked up from their tasks, tracking her with undisguised curiosity. None of them seemed to recognise her, yet their stares prickled herskin. She pressed on, the distant murmur of the quarry a dull hum in her ears.
Near the gate, the shadows she’d mistaken for tattered banners revealed their true horror. Corpses, tied to stakes, flanked the entrance, their twisted forms bathed in sunlight.
Katell’s blood ran cold. Though grotesquely decomposed, the bodies still bore the unmistakable marks of who they had been.
Hemp trousers. Colourful woollen jackets.
Freefolk.
Her stomach lurched at the acrid stench of decay. No wonder the soldiers’ tents were pitched upwind, far enough to escape the unbearable reek.
By the Moon… Alena hadn’t lied.
Katell’s chest tightened, each breath a struggle. The Freefolk had been torn from their lands. The Emperor had come for them, and they hadn’t stood a chance. How could this have happened? Could it really have been?—?
A scream tore through the air—raw with pain—followed by raucous laughter.
She urged her horse through the gates and whatever horrors lay beyond.
