He shrugged. “That’s what I was told. But we were too late.”

“Too late? The trip from Percepliquis is two days at the most. If you set out the same time as my brother, you’d have been here long before we showed up.”

“There was a storm. You must have noticed. High winds, lots of rain? It flooded the Bernum and washed away the ferries. We couldn’t cross for days. Ransara and I got here the same night you did. We were coming up the street when we saw the flash of light inside the house, followed a moment later by a second, and a third, and then the whole place started to burn. Went up surprisingly fast.”

“But if you couldn’t cross the river, how did Nordyan?”

“They were already on their way before I got orders—must have just got over before the storm hit.”

“But they still would have needed to cross the East branch of the Bernum. The storm that stopped you would have stopped them, too.”

Again, the knight rolled his shoulders. “Can’t tell you. Wasn’t there.”

“Nor can you tell me why they sent you to save the empress dowager from me? You must have thought that strange.”

“Not my place to question the emperor, but yeah, I thought it strange . . . until now.”

“Kolby, I didn’t kill her.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Nor did I save her.”

He turned away and climbed off the wagon. A moment later, with an ugly jerk, the wagon rolled.

Riding in a wagon was as pleasant as sledding over rocks. And while Farilane’s ribs were not broken, they continued to protest. The constant hammering of the axle over bumps and holes left the princess gritting her teeth and moaning as she read. This was her one solace. The book had worked as a distraction, but she was near the end, and instead of answering questions, it raised a host of them.