The clean-shaven man at the party’s center cantered forward, one hand to the hilt of his sheathed sword. His eyes flicked between the Ox and the Goat before settling on Anji.

“Is that the regicide? The one who killed Rolandrian?”

“Of course it’s her,” said one of the other riders, a red-haired woman to Anji’s left.

“Looks like a boy,” another panted, his eyes wide. “We should move on, Fernand, there’s no—”

“Let me handle this,” said the lead man, Fernand, over his shoulder. He squinted back at the Ox. “Is it her?”

“We do not speak our charges’ crimes,” said the Ox. Anji expected her to say more, but the only sound that followed was the chopping wind at their backs, flapping against the other riders’ dreary dress.

Fernand nudged his horse a step closer.

“Rode all this way just to die,” said the Goat under his breath.

The horse stopped.

“There’s no need for this,” Fernand said, voice quavering. He blinked and wiped at his sweat-drenched face. “I mean to say, we don’t want to fight.” Anji felt a stab of sympathy for him, but was also impressed as he went on. “There’s five of us and two of you. Release the girl and”—he swallowed—“and we’ll let you pass.”

“She is ours by right of conquest and acquisition,” said the Ox. “You’ve no claim without steel.”

“We don’t hold to your tenets, Warden,” said the woman to Anji’s right, spitting the last word like poison. Fernand jerked around.

“Quiet,” he said, then turned back to the Ox. “As I said, we’re not here to fight.”

“Then you shouldn’t have ridden up,” said the Goat. “We’re not Sun Wardens, by the by.”

“Just their dogs,” said one of the bearded men.

The Goat groaned and shifted in the saddle. “Must we go through all this every time?”

“Tenets,” said the Ox, and Anji’s brow furrowed.

“Fucking tenets,” the Goat muttered as the Ox went on, raising her voice to the mounted men and women.

“If your force be superior,” she said, “we shall bow to your blades. Accept or exhibit.”

“We can take ’em, Fernand,” said another of the bearded men.

“A million Rhoda,” muttered the woman to Anji’s left.

Fernand chewed at his lip. He bunched his horse’s reins in one fist, and with a final glance at his fellows, inclined his head.

“We will exhibit.”

“’Bout time,” said the Goat. He slapped at Anji’s arm. “Off you get.”

Anji spun in the saddle, but the Goat was already shoving her off and onto the ground.

“What are you—”

He put a boot on her shoulder and kicked her across the small space between his horse and the Ox’s. With one arm, the Ox hauled her up and maneuvered her into the space between her thighs.