Darius walked away before Eva could voice any of the many questions crowding her mind.
Jane took her arm. "Don't worry. This is a good sign."
"How is it a good sign?" Eva asked. Dead people weren't usually a reason to rejoice.
"The commander lay in wait for this opportunity."
"How can you tell?" she asked, looking around for what she'd missed.
She still didn't see what Jane saw. The area was at the base of a hill, shrubs clinging to the dirt, rocks and boulders strewn all around.
"The signs are everywhere if you know where to look," Jane said. "He took the fight to them. He wouldn't have done that if he didn't think his odds of survival were good."
"We only need to find him," Drake said.
"And hope he's not injured," Fiona added.
Laurell slapped her in the stomach with the back of her hand.
"What?" Fiona asked.
"Sometimes I really worry about your brain," Laurell said, shaking her head.
Their banter loosened the hard fist squeezing Eva's heart and she allowed the smallest of smiles to slip out in appreciation. The fear and suspicion from last night seemed to have been washed away in the light of day.
Eva didn't know if that was a good thing or not. It was easier to keep her distance when they were treating her like a pariah. Less so, when they joked with her and acted like she was one of them. She feared it would set her up for a greater disappointment later on.
The group mounted up and rode out.
Given the location of the body, Darius and Reece suspected the dead man had been a sentry, which meant the main campsite wasn't far. Find it, and Caden was likely to be close by, keeping watch.
Or at least that was the theory.
They hadn't ridden long before Eva began to notice signs of conflict. Charred grass and shrubs, disturbed earth where vegetation had been ripped away.
The warriors around her were tense, their expressions guarded and their bodies poised for action. More than one loosened the swords attached to their saddles, while the archers prepared their bows and arrows for easy access.
The only sounds she could hear were those of the horses, the quiet clop of their hooves and the occasional snort. These horses, unlike those assigned to non-warriors, were trained for silence. They would tolerate the presence of blood and death where another might spook. They were as loyal as any hound, ready and willing to follow their rider into danger.
Some of them, Eva had trained herself, working to get them ready for the life of a warrior's mount. She knew exactly what they were capable of.
Caia's ears flicked. They were close.
In the next moment, they stepped into a small campsite where a hard-fought battle had been waged.
There was a muttered curse from Ghost and a plea for the gods’ protection from one of the warriors as they rode into its midst.
The grass was charred in many places, and Eva caught sight of the remnants of tents, burnt and blackened. Bodies, more numerous than she could count at a first glance, lay facedown in the dirt. Some were bloody, red staining the ground under them. Others were blackened; whatever fire had found the camp, had found them too.
Amid it all, Caden calmly watched them approach from a seat atop a boulder near the middle of the carnage.
His face was dirty, soot staining his skin. There was a small bruise under one eye and the skin of his knuckles was torn and bloody, but other than that he seemed unhurt.
The group was silent as they observed the devastation.
Caden's gaze was focused, his eyes like chips of ice as they touched on Eva briefly as if to reassure himself of her safety before moving away.
"You're late," Caden said, not moving from his spot. "I expected you hours ago."
