“Every day, but in this instance, I just want you to be sure. It’s not like we have a lot of time here, Keita.”

“I am well aware of our time limits. So”—she threw out her arm in a big, sweeping gesture—“can we please go, cousin?”

Brannie glanced at Aidan, but all he did was give a small shrug, which meant he was leaving this decision completely up to her. And since she was the ranking officer, that was probably for the best.

Taking the lead, Brannie steered her horse into the trees and hoped they weren’t making a mistake they’d regret later.

* * *

It took Aidan some time to realize that Keita wasn’t merely wandering aimlessly. She was actually following the tracks of her friend. More than once, she’d dismount from her horse and study the ground, or nearby trees.

Shocked, Brannie kept looking at him, as if she expected him to tell her, “Don’t worry. You’re dreaming. Your flighty cousin isn’t a well-trained spy and tracker.”

But she was. And she was damn good.

After three hours of moving through the forest, Keita paused near a small town called Aberthol.

Aidan had passed by this town often when he was on the move with his Mì-runach brethren. But he’d never had the time or need to stop in for the night. It was so far from main roads, Aidan doubted many made Aberthol one of their stops.

So to find evidence that the Zealots had made the town one of their sanctuaries wasn’t exactly shocking.

But he’d admit that the sight of the massive fort not even a mile from the town . . . that was a bit of a shock.

And the rows and rows of humans who had been “purified,” staked out in meticulous lines? That, too, took them all by surprise.

Keita’s horse reared back after sniffing the first victim. The decomposing body on its knees, body staked to the ground by a wood spike through its diaphragm and out its spine and directly into the dirt. Its head tipped all the way back, hardened silver covering the sockets where the eyes used to be before they’d been burned out. The mouths frozen open in panic and horror.

That was the Zealots’ “purification” process when their victims refused to give up their gods and their beliefs. They poured molten silver into their victims’ eyes and allowed them to slowly die under the two suns. It might take hours . . . sometimes days.

Keita expertly got her horse to back up until she was safely hidden in the trees beside the rest of their small party. With a nod, she turned her horse and rode farther away from the fort.

When she finally stopped, the rest of the group surrounded her and Keita’s gaze landed on her cousin.

“On Annwyl’s land?” Brannie bit out between clenched teeth, her anger great.