“Get the arrows!” I shout. Preener and Slicewing swoop down and snatch the arrows from the archers’ bows. As everyone gawks at the crows, I cut the rope securing our stallion and all but throw Zivah on, then clamber up behind her and kick the beast into motion. The creature needs no coaxing with the fire so high, and he bursts into a gallop as the soldiers in our path throw themselves out of the way. And then we are off, racing down toward the riding fields and into the darkness beyond.

Epilogue

We have several close calls—a short skirmish with guards at the city gate, and two more encounters with riders on our tail. Several times, arrows pass perilously close to my head, but our horse is fast and agile, and finally we’re riding alone in the open desert. Dineas urges the horse north until finally we come to an abrupt stop in the middle of nowhere.

“What is it?” I ask as he dismounts.

“Help me,” he says. He grabs a large rock and starts digging. After a moment, I drop down to help him. The dirt we clear away grows moist under my fingers as we dig deeper.

“Got it,” Dineas says. The dirt falls away as he pulls out a long oilcloth-wrapped packet. He lays it on the ground to unwrap it, and reverently lifts out one of his swords. The moonlight reflects off the blade as he draws it. I watch without speaking as he squeezes his eyes shut and takes a shaky breath. I don’t know what thoughts are running through his head, but I sense that he needs this moment.

Finally, he opens his eyes. “We should go,” he says.

We ride more slowly after that, hour after hour. When we pass by a lone cottage, Dineas sneaks off alone and returns with half a loaf of bread, though we don’t stop to eat. We keep going until my entire being becomes numb with exhaustion. When the sky finally starts to turn gray, Dineas speaks again.

“The crows haven’t called out pursuit for several hours now.” I can hear his fatigue in his voice. Our horse’s head hangs low, and his steps begin to lag. I know we can’t go much farther.

We stop near a small spring. Dineas untacks and waters the horse, then spreads an oilcloth near some boulders to sit on. He hands me a piece of bread. It’s dry and hard to get down, but I gnaw on it nonetheless. Now that we’re no longer moving, the cold night air seeps into my bones and I shiver.

Dineas looks at me. “We’ll have to sit closer without a fire. It was often the only way to stay warm in the mountains.”