“That’s enough.” Now Leyus was also angry. “Bold talk for someone who herself lied so readily. Or do you still expect us to believe that the knight is a stranger to you? That you have no ties to the Palace?”

Kyra looked down, unable to answer, but then her eyes fell on Leyus’s hand. He was holding a parchment—a strikingly familiar one. “The map,” she blurted. “You have my map of the Fastkeep.”

Leyus glanced at the parchment. “So you were the cartographer,” he said. “The map was well drawn.”

Kyra stared at him with dread. “When is the raid?”

“You worry too much about things that no longer concern you, halfblood.”

He left before she could answer.

Dawn was cutting through the mists when Kyra woke to the footsteps of unfamiliar Demon Riders. It was a cold morning, and moisture from the fog had settled on her skin while she slept. The Demon Riders didn’t speak as they led her back to the clearing, where the clan had gathered in its usual circle. Tristam was in the center, bruised and leaning on one of his guards for support. Next to him stood Leyus. Kyra steeled herself to join them, but to her surprise, her guards kept her at the edge of the circle.

The crowd shifted at the sound of approaching hoofbeats, and three riders came into view. Even from his outline amidst the haze, Kyra recognized James. The scar on her stomach throbbed, and she suddenly found it hard to breathe. If they untied her, she didn’t know if she’d go for his throat or flee.

The circle opened into a horseshoe to let in the newcomers, and Kyra’s guards pulled her behind the other Demon Riders, hiding her from view. Kyra recognized Alex’s black locks and Shea’s quick stride. They stayed back while James dismounted to greet Leyus, and Kyra strained to hear the conversation. Everyone else must have been doing the same, because the two men’s voices echoed unchallenged through the forest.

“How did you find him?” James asked.

“He was prying around the forest. We killed his companion but kept him alive.”

“I am grateful,” said James as Shea and Alex unloaded several saddlebags. “Here are fifty sets of winter garments, made from Forge’s best imported silk. The cloth wicks sweat away from your skin, keeps you dry in the cold.”

Leyus opened the case and nodded approval. At his signal, Tristam’s handlers pulled him toward James. The knight stumbled, then shook off his guards to take the last few steps to James himself.

James bowed. “Sir Tristam of Brancel. I don’t believe we’ve met.” Even from that distance, she caught the mockery in his voice. The assassin turned to Leyus. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, as always. You’ll get the other half of the payment after the next raid.”