Ren looked him up and down. He thought about how long it would take to assassinate two men and then hide the weapon on a slave in the other end of the castle. Hellic and Callun had been dead before Ren had even entered the garden. When Ren had bumped into Halvard and Nathair in the dungeons, Nathair had already been carrying the knife one of the Hakvard's men had used to kill his family. The thought chilled him to the bone and he fell silent.

After finishing their food, Ren took their empty bowls and placed them on a tray outside the door. Anik lit an oil lamp and brought it with him. Then, they sat down on the floor with the map stretched out between them.

“We need to stay off the road,” Anik said, voice hushed in the silence. His long hair was ruffled, loose strands framing the sides of his face. Ren wondered if he ever loosened it to brush it.

“Of course,” Ren said, eyes following the path Anik drew with a finger from their current location to Stag's Run in the north.

“It looks about five or six days' ride away. Let's make it five. We need supplies. Food, water-”

“Coats,” Ren interrupted. “And gloves.”

Anik glanced up at him.

“You said it yourself,” Ren continued. “The north is covered in ice and snow. If you think it's chilly now, just wait until we reach the mountains. The cold can kill.”

“Very well,” Anik said, turning his attention back to the map. “We'll pick up supplies tomorrow morning and leave as soon as we're done.”

Ren stared at him for a moment. He had almost expected an argument, maybe because it felt like every single conversation they'd had since their escape had turned into one. But this was nice. They were talking, agreeing. Ren could almost pretend that Anik didn't hate his guts. Almost.

* * *

The streets of Isleya were busy even in the early hours of the morning. Ren had hoped to avoid the worst of it by going out just before the break of dawn, but the people here were apparently ridiculously early risers. It was nerve-wracking, men and women casting brief glances in Ren's direction as they passed. He wore his jacket with the hood pulled up, but he still felt like every person might stop and shout his name in recognition.