“There’s somebody here.” Myna’s words send a chill skittering through me. I tighten my hands on the pommel of the saddle in a vain attempt to control their trembling.
“Maybe we should circle around and keep going.” The suggestion has barely left my lips when the barn door creaks open wider, groaning hinges slicing through the air. A shadow bursts out, moving too fast to make sense of. My heart slams in my chest as my hand instinctively flies to the dagger strapped across my chest. Beside me, Myna mirrors the motion, her eyes narrowing.
“Nyssa?Nyssa!”
The familiar voice cuts through the tension, and Nyssa lets out a choked sound before leaping from our horse. Lark’s form becomes clear as she rushes toward him, flinging herself into her brother’s open arms. He pulls her close, holding on as if letting go might make her vanish, his face buried in her shoulder with fierce relief.
When his gaze lifts, it falls on me, something flickering behind his eyes.
“El.” Lark says my name as though I’m a ghost. Like he’s questioning his reality and sanity. He reaches for me, but I flinch away from the touch.
“Back up, Lark,” Myna snaps at him, and my face burns with embarrassment and guilt at the confused expression on his face.
I glance away from the questions I can see building, closing my eyes as a lump forms in my throat.
“What happened?” another voice asks, and I freeze in place. Because I know that voice more intimately than I know my own. I dreamed of it in my lowest moments, held on to its tenor during my darkest nights. Prayed to any god that would listen that I could hear it again.
I turn slowly, until my eyes finally land on Raven. Relief flickers for a moment in the familiar planes of his face, but it doesn’t last. His hand drags through his hair, frustration clear in the tightness of his jaw. Yet, as his eyes meet mine, something shifts. They soften, searching my face, reading whatever is written there, concern mingling with the frustration, as if he can’t decide which one to hold on to. He waits, pinned between emotions, for an answer I’m not sure I can give.
“There was a complication,” Myna says as she dismounts her horse with practiced ease, her movements fluid and deliberate. She steadies herself before her boots meet the ground. “We were compromised. The real question is, why are you still here?”
I jump down from my mount, my boots hit the ground with a dull thud, and I hiss as the impact sends a sharp ache through my thighs. They all fall silent, their eyes shifting to me, and I can feel the weight of building tension pressing down on me.
“Come inside and we’ll explain. There’s leftover stew if you’re hungry,” Raven eventually says, his words strained. “And a stream not far behind the homestead if you want to bathe.”
We follow Raven inside, and I linger near the entrance as the others exchange quiet greetings. I fiddle with the ties of my cloak, watching as Myna and Nyssa pull theirs off and make a beeline for the pot of stew.
Moonlight filters through the shattered windows, casting ghostly patterns on the warped wooden floor. The homestead is a single room, with a door on the back wall mirroring the one we just entered. Firelight crackles in the hearth, its glow sending restless shadows dancing across the walls. Furniture, long abandoned and coated in grime, now serves as makeshift seating as bowls clatter softly against the quiet. Muted murmurs fill the space, but the tension is impossible to ignore. Heron keepsglancing at me, his brow furrowed, questions that he doesn’t voice burning in his eyes. Lory, typically so relaxed, now sits sharp and watchful, his easy demeanor replaced by quiet intensity. Even Nyssa, who always finds humor in the darkest moments, is subdued. Their concern lingers in the air, pressing down like a weight I can’t escape.
My stomach growls, but my hunger is dulled by exhaustion. For now, the warmth of the stew and the company of my companions feel distant compared to my desire for a moment of solitude and the chance to wash away the grime of the journey. They want answers—I can feel it in their stares—but I don’t have the strength to give them. Not yet.
I slip outside and head toward the trees at the back of the homestead. The hem of my cloak whispers against the tall grass, masking the sound of my rapid breaths. I don’t have to walk for long before I find the stream Raven mentioned, and by the time I do, I’ve reclaimed a semblance of calm.
The stream looks like a spill of black ink across the floor of the forest, trickling between the ferns and moss-covered rocks that border its banks. A few fireflies drift across the surface of the water, adding their soft light to the eerie glow that peeks through the canopy.
I remove my cloak, folding it up and setting it down on one of the rocks before untying the laces at the neckline of my tunic. The chill in the air bites the scarred skin at my exposed throat, pebbling my flesh and sending a shiver through my body.
A twig snaps behind me and I spin, my dagger already unsheathed. My heart pounds against my rib cage like a wild beast trying to break free.
“It’s me,” Raven says as he steps out from the shadows. The pale moonlight falls across his face, deepening the furrow on his brow.
“Raven.” His name escapes me in a shuddering breath, and my shoulders slump as I lower my blade.
Faster than a strike of lightning, he stands in front of me, warm hands cradling my face as he tilts it up to his. But as he leans in to kiss me, dread rises so swiftly—so violently—I flinch, taking a step back.
Raven tenses and drops his hands. The muscles in his jaw bunch,and his eyes track me. Neither of us move, both simply watching the other. I take a tentative step closer, relishing the warmth emanating from his body, but he doesn’t touch me again.
“I thought you would be long gone by now.” The words rasp from my too-tight throat.
“So did I.”
I look away from his amber gaze, his words momentarily stunning me. Of course, I understand that we shouldn’t have found them still here. “What happened?”
“It was slower than we expected, traveling with the weapon. The crate has been hard on the horses.” He pauses, exhaling deeply as his gaze drifts away. “It must have been enough time for Prince Keres to send out missives, because the guards were already in Port Serre when we got there. I managed to get a message to Nikolas, and he’ll meet us in Port Belana. There isn’t much of a guard presence stationed there, so as long as we get there ahead of any reinforcements, we should be able to slip past their defenses.”
I nod quietly, my mind scrambling to piece together the fragments. After my escape from the palace, it’s only a matter of time before more guards are sent after me. That’s if they aren’t already in pursuit. We’ve covered impressive ground so far, thanks to stolen fresh mounts that spared us the need to rest. But how long can we outrun the consequences before they inevitably catch up?
“What happened, Starling?” Raven’s question fractures my thoughts. “Myna and Sparrow have told me all they know, but neither knows exactly what happened while Keres had you locked in that room.”
