“The night patrol would announce themselves,” I say.
“It could be thieves,” says Nook, but even he doesn’t sound like he believes it.
It’s not thieves. That means someone betrayed us. One of the rebels who was following? Sommer?
Or even someone from the Wilds who knew we were going? A thousand silvers is so much money.
I think of the desperation in Francis’s eyes when he thought that woman had Moonflower.
Then a worse thought occurs to me.Saeth.
I have no idea what he would have found when he approached his wife and children. Our final words to each other were about choices. Could his family have been in such dire straits that he would’ve taken the reward to save them? I thought the worst outcome would be Saeth not returning.
But he knew where to find us. He knew exactly what time we would be here and how much—howlittle—defense we have.
“You said we had men in the woods.” Reed looks between me and Thorin. “Other guards?” he says hopefully. “Or soldiers?”
I shake my head. “Neither. Rebels from the Wilds.”
Reed turns dismayed eyes back toward Thorin, who shrugs. “It’s been a long week,” he says.
Another crossbow snaps, and we all press low. I don’t know where it lands.
Bert, driving the wagon, makes a choked sound, then jerks sideways, ducking down onto the floorboards under the seat. I can hear his breathing from here. “I can’t see them,” he calls back to us. His voice is shaking.
“That means they can barely see us,” says Thorin. “Keep driving.”
“I’m trying!” the man calls back. “The water is deep! There must be mud!”
And there must be. The wagon keeps shuddering, and I can hear the horses struggling against the footing.
“Is thereanychance you were followed?” I say to Reed.
He shakes his head fiercely. “I saw no one.”
“There can’t be many of them,” says Francis from the back. “They would’ve attacked the wagon by now.”
Nook is looking between all of us, his eyes wide, his hand still pressed over his shoulder. “Is that true?”
“Maybe,” I say, though it’s more likely they’re testing us, waiting to see what kind of resistance we have—which isn’t much. Our weapons are limited, and we don’t have more than twelve bolts for the crossbows. But there’s no point in scaring him.
Francis crawls low, through the hay, to get closer to us. He takesa look at Nook’s bleeding arm, then offers me a censorious glare. “Did we go through all this to trade one guard for another?”
Reed moves like he’s going to shove him back. “You are speaking to the—”
Then wood cracks underneath us, and the wagon shudders to a stop. At the front, Bert snaps the whip, and the horses surge forward, but we don’t move. More wood cracks.
An arrow hits the wagon, then another. An unfamiliar voice yells from the woods. “They’re stuck!”
“Get us moving!” Thorin shouts at Bert.
“The wheels have caught!”
My guards exchange a glance. I’ve seen that look before, so I’m already a step ahead of them, uncurling from the hay, tightening my grip on the crossbow.
If we’re attacked and you stop, the king is dead.
We need to get out of the wagon. My breathing has already gone tight and thready. “Which way?”
