Brannie knew Aidan the Divine well enough to know—know!—that he’d allowed himself to be seen. Why? Probably to protect her. To distract the guards already searching the tunnels and fort for them.

Stepping out of the shadows, she started to follow Aidan but stopped short when she saw a door at the end of the hallway.

She gritted her teeth. Follow Aidan? Go to the door?

“Eh,” she said with a wave of her hand. “He’ll be fine.”

Brannie ran to the door and eased it open to find stone stairs. Closing the door behind her, she made her way down. As she neared the last step, she could hear chains . . . and sobbing.

A dungeon.

Just what she’d been looking for.

Brannie reached the last step and stopped, silently waiting for a guard to pass. Once he did, she moved up behind him and quickly cut his throat.

Footsteps came from behind and Brannie turned, throwing the blade. It slammed into the second guard’s head and he fell back. She retrieved the weapon and slid it into the sheath at her side.

Brannie checked for more guards, but didn’t see any, so she made her way down to a large open space. In the middle of the room were tables covered in chains, metal cuffs, and blood. Chains also hung from the ceilings. And on each wall Chramnesind’s sigil had been burned into the stone.

If the sigils were magickal, Brannie wouldn’t know until they destroyed her. But she didn’t deal with magicks. She left that to witches and other blessed folk. All warriors could do was hope for the best.

Brannie moved to the far wall and started down the long room. Not every cage had someone in it, but most did. So she studied each carefully in the hope of finding Ren.

She’d just reached the end of the first wall of cages when she heard, “Branwen the Awful?”

It was a female voice, so not Ren. But Brannie spun around, wondering who called to her.

Blinking, she rushed across the floor to the cages on the other side.

“Kachka?” She stopped in front of the cage and gawked at the three Riders inside. “What are you doing here?”

Kachka Shestakova of the Black Bear Riders of the Midnight Mountains of Despair in the Far Reaches of the Steppes of the Outerplains—and yes, that was her entire name—had come to the “decadent and corrupt” Southlands with her sister Elina Shestakova. They were true Daughters of the Steppes. Hearty, powerful women who thought men were beneath them, only good for sex and garbage removal. They were warriors and horsewomen known for breeding and raising small but remarkable horses that were great in battle and during long, cross-country rides.