“You’ll need to be faster if you want to rob me.” Dietan releases him, and the boy bolts.
“Slick,” I say, genuinely impressed by his cat-like reflexes. “He had fast fingers. But you were faster.”
“I’m not completely useless.” He smiles back, tucking the dagger back into its sheath.
Marcus steps up beside us, glancing at our entourage. “I reckon that boy isn’t the only thief around here.”
Everything we own is strapped to our backs or slung over our shoulders.
The soldiers form a loose blockade around me and Dietan, with guards behind us pressed two deep. It’ll be harder for thieves to target us if we move quickly. Marcus leads, parting the crowd with his elbows and his commanding presence.
The sun arcs across the sky. The massive bridge stretches endlessly into the mist.
The fog thickens, obscuring everything beyond the soldier in front of me. For an instant, I lose track of our party, and my heart begins to race. When the fog clears, they’re right by my side, and relief washes over me.
We walk for another day as the sky turns purple once more. The crowds slow, choking the walkway. “People are setting up for the night,” I observe. My feet hurt, and I am more tired than Shepard Belmis ever made me feel.
Indeed, travelers pitch tents in the road and throw tarps over carts to create shelter. As we weave through the masses, we find ourselves pressing up against the others who have given up for the night, claiming spots to camp.
“Should we stop?” Marcus asks. “Draw our men into a circle and fortify for the night?”
“No,” Dietan says firmly. “Not yet. It’s too crowded. There are too many eyes looking in our direction.” He points out an emptier patch of the bridge far in the distance. I hope my legs don’t give out before we get there.
Marcus issues orders, and the soldiers reluctantly keep moving.
As the sky deepens, makeshift shelters and sleeping bodies on the walkway slow us to a crawl. Only a sliver of the moon lights our way and more fog rolls in. We can barely see in front of our noses.
Rough-looking men linger at the edge of the road, watching travelers pass. I point them out to Marcus. “Spies?” I quietly ask. “Or lookouts?”
“Probably both,” Marcus says. “Best to double our pace and move onward.”
He signals to the soldiers to pick up speed, but it’s nearly impossible.
The road is clogged with campfires, tents, and carts. We pick our way through groups of travelers huddled around their flames, their hoods pulled low. We tread carefully around others who are fast asleep.
We’re making our way through a dense cluster of encampments when several travelers suddenly rise to their feet.
“I’m so sorry to have disturbed—” I begin, but then I see a flash of metal.
These men are armed.
It’s an ambush.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dietan
The ragged men draw knives from cloaks, streaks of silver glistening in the faint moonlight. Before our soldiers can even drop their packs and arm themselves, they rush toward us.
One of the bandits forces his way between Aren and me. He grabs Aren’s pack, dragging it from her shoulders. She screams, but his grip is too strong. He pulls her away with it.
My heart lurches. I lunge, chasing after them, my sword drawn. My own pack has already been stolen. “Aren, let them have it!” I yell, but she shakes her head and holds on to her rucksack even as she’s dragged backward, her heels skidding against the bridge.
Stubborn woman! Let go!
I curse the gods as I run after her.
The bridge erupts into chaos. Surrounded, Marcus shouts orders. Blades clash as my soldiers battle the bandits. One of the thieves blocks my path, so I knock him in the face with the pommel of my sword. I sprint after Aren, my heart thumping.
