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“We’ll be fine. I wanted to ask you about the Jorvan prince and his betrothed. My son may be biased, not that I blame him, but he was raised to protect the man. He might have confused affection. But you would not be so biased.” Elisabet stopped walking and faced me in the center of the clearing. “Is he truly honorable? Or will he fall into the same cruelty as his father?”

I cleared my throat. “Prince Thane was kind to me, and he cares for people. He never used the fealty shard Roark was forced to take. Instead, he earned Roark’s loyalty because of his character.”

“Hmm. And what were his thoughts on soul bones?”

I popped one shoulder. “Thane was raised with them. He knew Roark did not care for them, but I do not think he thought as little of them as the rest of us.”

“And his future bride. The Myrdan?”

What was this all about? “I did not know her as well, but from what I did know, Yrsa is loyal to those she loves.” I hoped it remained true should she ever meet Emi again. “She is just and kind and holds honor herself. She trusted Roark with the name of a traitor who tried to have me killed. She did not hesitate, even though the man was a high-ranking Myrdan noble.”

Elisabet looked to the distant path. “It is a comfort to hear this, knowing my son sent his missive.”

My heart stuttered. “You know?”

“I know many things that go on in my palace, Lyra. My son made his plan, and I don’t disagree. But I also made my own.”

“Forgive me, my lady, but I don’t understand.”

“I know you are planning to slip away from Dravenmoor.” Elisabet looked back toward the pathway we’d taken. “The additional Dark Watch are presenting a problem, of course. I also understand that my son’s missive was received in Jorvandal.”

“How?”

“The raven returned. But I could not be certain if the Jorvan prince would respond with a heart for battle or a heart with a desire to be the loyal friend you insist he was.”

“Highness, what—”

“I could not find a good enough reason to pull our watchers away after the Jorvans attacked,” Elisabet went on, ignoring me. “Even if I could, to have my son suddenly leave Dravenmoor, well, the úlfur would suspect me. I am never so obvious.”

I glanced around the willow meadow. “My lady, do you know a way we can slip out?”

“I suppose time will tell.” The queen glanced at the sky, then pointed toward the path. “Down there you will find something of use to you. I will keep the guards distracted until my son can follow.”

Apprehension lifted the hair on my neck. She wanted me to step into the deep wood alone?

“What? Wait, Queen Elisabet.”

The queen did not respond, merely turned on her heel and rushed back up the path from which we’d come.

She left me in the wood.

I could follow her back to the gates, but…I looked down the narrow path on the opposite side of the meadow. Was it even wise to go look? I held a level of apprehension for the queen. Then again, her soul was vowed to Roark’s. Her word, her actions, they could not bring me harm or she was damned to lose eternity with her king.

I wrung my fingers until three knuckles cracked. Only a glimpse of the path was visible through the shadows after it rounded a bend down the slope.

Elisabet would not send me into an ambush. She’d guided us to Nivek; she’d kept me alive.

She would not kill me.

Still, I unsheathed a small knife from inside my boot before I stepped onto the path.

Through the gaps in the leaves, beams of sunlight brightened the slope more than I thought. The air was fresh and damp, like soil after a soft rain. Nearby, the sound of the gentle flow of water gave up that one of the rivers carving through the kingdom was near.

My pulse quickened. Near a thick, white oak was a leather satchel with a rolled fur mat, prepared and packed. A grin split my lips, and I hurried off the path. A water skin was tied to one side, along with pouches of dried berries and roasted nuts, aged cheeses, and burlap-wrapped bread.

I did not know how Elisabet would smuggle Roark from the palace without notice, but she’d done it well enough here.

A twig snapped. On a nearby branch, a raven fluttered away with a loud caw. I spun around, searching the trees, and only met the gentle sway of leaves and tall grass. One fist tightened around my knife, the other on the pack of supplies.