The tunnel opens onto a ledge where two Loyalist guards sit with their backs to us, eating dinner. My stomach rumbles so loudly I’m shocked they don’t hear it. Beyond them, the ledge tumbles and rolls away like an awkward sloping staircase. At the bottom, tents and shanties speckle a valley, and wisps of campfire smoke dance toward the darkening sky. A few tools clank, metal hitting rock, but the bulk of the day’s work appears to be over.

Asher pulls out his sling, and in a flash, the two Loyalist guards are unconscious.

“When the hell did you get so good with that thing?” I mutter.

He flashes a grin, then runs forward and pockets the guards’ dinner.

“This way,” he whispers, and scurries to the left, watching his footing on the rugged terrain. I grab a set of binos from the knocked-out Loyalists and follow.

If word of my escape hasn’t made it to the mine yet, it will as soon as these guards wake up. Outrunning them will be near impossible once we make it back to the wastes. The General’s men will be well rested, well fed. They’ll have horses. I try not to dwell on it, instead focusing on following Asher in the fading daylight.

We make our way west until it’s so dark that continuing on in only the moonlight would be dangerous. Too afraid to make a fire, we sit with our backs against a boulder and share the Loyalists’ jerky. There’s a bit of hard cheese also, which Asher asks me to cut.

“Cut how?”

His hand disappears inside his jacket and reemerges with my knives—the Old World one from Astra’s hut and my trusty bone blade, too. “Bartered them off Bain. Told him he could have the goat, but I was owed these—that I wanted something to remember you by. ’Course, I always intended to give them back to you.”

The hilt of my bone knife fits my hand like a memory. It makes me miss Bay—how her body in the sling was just starting to feel familiar when she was taken from me.

“Thank you . . .” I manage.

He nods, then lays out the waterskins—his, along with the one I stole before riding for the Barrel, plus a third we lifted off the Loyalist guards. It’s a downright feast.

I drink eagerly, savoring each drop.

“Easy,” Asher says, pushing my waterskin aside. “Long way to go still.” He’s right. I wipe water from my chin, grumbling. “Just being honest,” he chides. “And smart.” He gives me the smuggest grin I’ve ever seen grace his features.

I grab the jar of jerky he’s eating from and screw on the lid. “Better save this too.”

Asher’s grin tilts sidewise. “You trifling with me?”