“Let her,” I said, lowering myself beside the fire. “Fighting means she’s not broken. We need her strong for what’s coming.”
Thane snorted. “Strong enough to tear reality apart, you mean. Because that’s what the prophecy says, isn’t it?”
“Enough.” I let my voice sharpen. “At this point, we’re only speculating, and that doesn’t help. This is the new plan. Kael and Thane will bring the children to the safehouse. Zephyr, I want you watching our backs. The king will surely send his hunters after us. Do not engage. Though they’re filth, they’re an elite force. Track their movements and follow at a distance. Meet up with Kael and Thane on their return, then regroup with us at the designated location.”
“Are you saying you’re going into the Nightwood with this girl alone?” Kael asked. “You can’t possibly be that reckless.”
Kael’s tendency toward thorough preparation and his conservative approach were what made him the perfect assassin, but this wasn’t the time for caution.
“The entire mission is reckless. It’s do or die.”
He stopped himself from objecting. He knew I was right.
In the brief silence that followed, looks of determination flickered across each member of my team, firelight carving resolve into their features.
The girl stirred.
Every man around the fire tensed. Kael’s hand drifted toward his daggers. Thane shifted his weight, ready to grab her if she bolted. Zephyr’s fingers began tracing patterns in the air, preparing to call the winds if needed. Riven continued his work, but I caught the slight pause in his movements that meant he was ready to react.
Her eyes opened slowly, pupils dilated from the drugs but aware. Intelligent. She took in our faces, the forest around us, the weapons we carried, processing everything with the quick efficiency of someone who had learned to assess threats fast or die.
Firelight caught the panic in her eyes. They scanned the clearing and landed on the children, huddled on one side of the flames. Relief flickered across her expression, brief and sharp, before her attention snapped back to us.
“Where am I?” Her voice was rough, raw from screaming and the muzzle they’d forced on her.
“Safe,” I said, which was true enough for the moment.
Her gaze moved from face to face, cataloging details with an intelligence that impressed me despite myself. When her eyes met Kael’s, I saw her note the way he held himself, ready for violence but not aggressive. Professional. When she looked at Thane, she assessed his size, but also caught the gentleness in how he’d built the fire, how he’d positioned himself to block the wind from reaching her without making it obvious.
The speed at which she gathered information didn’t ease the tension in her gaze, or in her magic.
“You’re the ones who killed the mages,” she said. Not a question.
“Some of them,” Kael confirmed with a slight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The rest killed themselves by standing in the wrong place when your magic exploded.”
She flinched at the reminder, and I caught Thane shooting Kael a warning look.
Too blunt. Even for necessary truths.
“The burns need tending,” Zephyr said gently, holding up a vial of something that gleamed silver in the firelight. “This will help with the pain, but removing the sigils completely will take time.”
“Don’t.” She pulled back, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. “Don’t touch me.”
“The magic they burned into your skin is poisonous,” he continued in that calm, professional voice he used with difficult patients. “It’s designed to make you easier to control, but it’s also slowly killing you. I can help, but only if you let me.”
She looked at him for a long moment, then at each of us in turn. I could practically see her weighing options, calculating risks, trying to decide who represented the greater threat, us, or the poison still coursing through her system.
“Why should I trust any of you?” she asked finally.
“Because,” Zephyr said with characteristic directness, “if we wanted you dead, you’d already be dead. And if we wanted you as a prisoner, we’d have used iron chains instead of rescuing you from them.”
Her gaze found mine across the fire, and recognition flickered in those silver eyes. Not of me personally, but of what I represented. She’d heard the stories, seen the sketches, knew exactly what it meant to be looking at someone with silver eyes and shadows that moved without wind.
“You’re him,” she whispered. “The King’s Shadow.”
I inclined my head slightly. “Not anymore.”
“What do you want with me?”
