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She radiates hostility. “To your home. Which is where, exactly?”

Several levels above the dungeon, where she’ll be held until the interrogation is done. “You’ll see when we get there.”

She throws her hands up. “This is insane.”

“No more insane than your excuse that you were there for an artifact to save the kingdom.”

Esme studies me like she’s sizing me up. “You expect me to believe anything that comes out of your mouth?”

I roll my neck on my shoulders. “Tell me everything. You can start with who sent you, what the Everhand does, and why you were alone. Maybe then I’ll let you go.”

“No, you won’t,” Esme snaps back as she side-eyes me, as if I missed how she dodged the hard questions.

A strip of pale golden brown cuts through the foothills and perfect spring forest in easy swells. I point southeast so she can’t pretend she doesn’t know where to go. “Why is everyone afraid of the Graywatch? What do those men really do with the people they take?”

If I find out they’re crown-sponsored slave traders, I might just seek out their headquarters to guarantee they never live to see another day, salting the earth so the whole kingdom’s aware of their destruction.

My lips twitch into a smile just thinking about that.

A long stretch has passed since the last time I was able to let loose. A foreign kingdom, with no friends to witness my actions or get caught in the shrapnel, presents the perfect opportunity to release some of my darker urges. People who trade in other people don’t deserve my restraint anyway.

“I told you. They’re the king’s men. They used to keep the roads safe. Now, they find the sick and quarantine them for treatment.” Lifting her chin, she focuses on the road ahead.

I scoff. “I’ve been a soldier since I was old enough to hold a pike. I know what different kinds of fear look like. The woman in the tavern last night was terrified of what would happen if the Graywatch got their hands on her.”

Esme’s jaw works like she’s chewing on what’s safe to spit out. “I don’t know what they do. No one does. People go in, but they don’t come out. The official story is quarantine and treatment. But…”

“But?” All the world can sit in that one word.

“I’m sure it’s because they’re still working on the cure. Which is why I need to get the Everhand.” Her eyes spark, locked on a tall, curling oak in the distance as she ignores me. A huge bird perches on its upper boughs, red beaked and fierce.

Before I can respond, faint, hoofbeat-like tremors vibrate through the packed dirt. The thick forest blocks our view, but it’s safe to assume danger’s approaching.

I catch Esme’s wrist, crushing her delicate bones together before I modulate my strength. “Off the road. Now.”

“What—” She must be walking with her head in the clouds, because she seems oblivious to the threat. From the size of the dust cloud, a large group thunders toward us.

Whoever they are, they can’t see us. Yet.

I yank Esme sideways into the brush-filled ditch running parallel to the road. The weeds slide over our clothes as she stumbles, catches herself, and opens her mouth to protest. I cover her lips with my palm and tug her down with me into the dense undergrowth. A tiny nudge of magic lifts bent stalks, covering us smoothly. With the thrill of the fight flooding my bones, my earlier irritation flies out the window.

Esme fights for half a second, jostling against my side. I pin her with my left arm to prevent her from dislodging our camouflage. The hooves thunder louder, close enough now for me to also pick up the jingle of tack and armor. The cacophony drowns out my pounding heart, but I can still feel the adrenaline surging through my veins.

I waggle my eyebrows at Esme until her cheeks flush. She attempts to scoot away, but I stop her by squeezing her arm. When she glares, I shake my head, careful not to give away our position. If she’s shortsighted enough to run for it, I’ll need to take down the riders, too, to erase any evidence of us passing this way. Part of me hopes she does, just so I can release some of the violence humming through my bones.

Cavalry? Or Highwaymen?

I’m not sure which one is the better option. Based on what I know of the Graywatch, the difference may be minimal at best.

I adjust my weight, pressing us lower into the thick vegetation. Thorns snag on my sleeves. A critter of some kind crawls across the back of my neck. I ignore it, concentrating on ensuring that we both stay still as I spy on the road through the gaps in the foliage.

The riders burst into view like a breaking storm, splitting the dust cloud.

As if summoned by our earlier discussion, at least two dozen Graywatch riders tear past at a full gallop. Given their speed and our partially obstructed view, counting is difficult. They ride in tight formation, their gray uniforms pristine despite the dust. White gloves cover their hands, and matching masks hide their faces, like they’re ashamed to reveal their identities.

Or they don’t want anyone to recognize them later.

Smart. I’d do the same if I were disappearing people.