Anji glanced at the carnage underfoot, the gory remnants of the three officers that had sat full of life just moments before. Well-trained soldiers, and the Hawk had cut through them like shears through linen. She hadn’t even made a sound. The only blood the woman had spilled was either leaking into the dirt or dripping off her blade. Not a drop on her leathers.

Anji, however, was starving, exhausted, and chained. All the training she’d had, the days spent learning poses and nurturing purple bruises. Useless.

She threw the sword into the dirt.

The Hawk lowered her steel but kept it out of its sheath. “We need to move,” she said, adjusting her mask. “First, climb into the wagon and destroy a few things. Take what food you can find. They’ll have water as well.”

Anji stared at the blood still streaming from the captain’s severed head.

The Hawk snapped gloved fingers and pointed to the wagon. “Food. Water. Silverton is still half a day’s walk from here and we’re running low on both.”

Fists clenched, Anji stepped around the headless captain and into the wagon.

“Make a mess. We want it to look as though they’ve been robbed.”

“I get it,” said Anji, letting her eyes adjust to the dark.

Inside was an assortment of chests, crates, and bundles of cloth. Anji opened what chests weren’t locked and dumped the contents onto the floor—mostly papers, but some fine silver utensils and picture frames she might have stolen if she’d still been alone. She cast around and found a burlap sack filled with packaged, cured meat and a hefty block of white cheese. Glass clinked as she picked up the bag, and she shuffled the contents around to find two small bottles of wine.

“There’s wine!” she called, kicking another chest clattering to the floor. She tossed a few bundles of clothing across the small space for good measure.

“Water, I said,” came the Hawk’s voice from outside the wagon. Anji looked up to see the woman unlatching the horses and slapping them away. She scrambled out of the cart, the bag slapping against her leg.

“What are you doing?” she said. “I could have ridden one of those! My feet are killing—”

“You walk,” said the Hawk, snatching the bag from Anji’s hand. She crossed to her horse and began tying it to the saddle.

Anji scoffed but resumed her place in front of the mare as the Hawk climbed back into the saddle and commanded her to walk. The trail yawned endless ahead, rock-strewn and overgrown with sedge and heather. She glanced over her shoulder as she began to pace forward, the sun starting its slope toward the horizon.

“Why didn’t you let them take me?”

The Hawk said nothing.

Chapter 5

5