“Well,” said Houndstooth. “Seems cozy enough, this. If you like red velvet.” He ran a hand over the seat of the plush divan that sat under the window. Hero closed their eyes and breathed deeply. Their lips parted just a little, and Houndstooth nearly died with the effort of not noticing it.

“I do.”

Houndstooth jumped. “What? You, hm, you what?”

Hero opened their eyes and considered Houndstooth, who was perched on the edge of the divan, stiff-backed, holding his hat in his lap. They cocked their head and smiled.

“I do like red velvet.”

Houndstooth moved to the window and twitched the curtain aside. “What do you make of Travers, then? I don’t like that he made us check our guns. ‘Standard security procedures,’ indeed. I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. And did you see the munitions he had stored down there? What, is he expecting a war to break out?” He cleared his throat, smoothed the front of his jacket.

“I think,” Hero drawled, crossing the room to join him, “that he’s the least of our problems.”

Hero stared out the window. Houndstooth stared at Hero. “What’s the worst of our problems?”

Hero smiled, watching the water below them. “Well, Winslow. There’s only one bed in here.” They turned their head, still smiling, and took in Houndstooth’s rich pink blush. “And last I counted, there’s two of us.”

Houndstooth stammered incoherently as Hero chucked him under the chin, then strolled out of the room, easing the door shut behind them. When the latch clicked, Houndstooth collapsed onto the divan. He stared at the bed, willing the heat to dissipate from his cheeks.

* * *

Archie and Adelia sat in the wood-paneled main lounge of the Sturgess Queen. Adelia’s feet rested on a low, claw-footed stool. A glass of ice water sweated in her hand.

“They sure know how to treat a pregnant girl, eh?” She grinned over her glass at Archie, who sat in a wide wicker-backed armchair opposite her, turning the feral bull’s tusk over and over in her hands.

“Why are you worried?” Adelia asked. “The worst thing that happens is they try to kill us.”

Archie continued worrying at the tusk. She muttered something under her breath.

“Que?”

“I said,” Archie replied deliberately, “that I’m not sure it’s them I’m worried about.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean they knew that we would be getting to the Gate today. They knew ’ow many of us to expect. They ’ad exactly six spots in the paddock, one for each ’ippo. And they ’ad enough rooms set aside for six people, which means they knew about . . . about Neville.”

“So?”

“So,” Archie said, her hands going still, “I think that someone told them about us. I think that someone told them what route we would be taking. I think—”

“What’s all this about?” Hero said, striding into the lounge.