As the hours had passed, Anji’s anxiety had heightened. She’d been alert to every sensation, every pain or tingling in any extremity, unsure of whether the poison was having an effect yet. The thought of poison running through her veins made her feel unclean, corrupted. Despite the cold, her palms were slick with sweat. She wiped them on her pants as the Hawk finally coerced the horse to the stream’s edge despite the bats’ flurried dance above. The mare stared down at the stream, then whickered and danced back.

“Come on,” said the Hawk, “drink up, that’s it.”

“She isn’t used to a stream,” said Anji. “Try a different container. A bucket or a trough—”

“We don’t exactly have any of those to hand.”

Anji sighed and stepped forward. She bent and unclasped the large brown sack and fished inside.

“What in the hell do you think you’re—”

Bootsteps thudded in the dirt as the Hawk advanced. Anji’s heart thundered as she stood and raised the pot like a shield.

“Try this,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. Nine, she’s so damn fast.

The Hawk stood like a statue for a moment, fists clenched, before snatching the pot out of Anji’s hands. She stomped to the stream, filled the container, and lifted it to the mare, who began drinking at once.

One of the bats flapped close to Anji’s head and she let out a tiny shriek, waving it off, but it was already well toward the stream once more to join its fellows. For the first time since she’d escaped Linura, she was glad she’d cut her hair so short. The mare’s tail whipped once at the frenzy of movement above, but it kept drinking after such a long day’s ride.

The Hawk guided the pot and the mare’s head to the ground and shot a glance at Anji. “Thought you were a laundress.”

Anji lifted a shoulder. “They had me working in the stables for almost a year when I was first brought to the castle.”

“Why did your work change?”

A gust of wind blew across the stream, wafting through the horse’s mane. This close, just the smell of horse brought back memories of Anji’s short time in the Linura Castle stables. There she’d learned how to muck out stalls, which saddle and lead repairs would last, and the proper cleaning of hooves. As the weeks had passed, she’d found a sort of gratitude for the work—for the horses especially—but also the fresh air, the endless number of things to learn … the sense of purpose that had kindled a warmth in her she hadn’t known she could feel again. Even so, her parents’ deaths were still a raw wound across her heart, and a loneliness without end still plagued her sleepless nights.

But anything was better than sleeping on the street.