“Because there aren’t any,” I say. “Of all the stupid, cowardly—”

Something twitches along his jawline. “You’ll stay in our camp until tomorrow morning. If we can still find no sign of anyone else, we’ll let you leave.”

I glare at him. “And you’ll compensate me for my trouble?”

“We’ll let you keep your hands and your life,” he says.

I should have told Preener to relieve himself in their soup pots. Actually, I wonder if that’s something I could train the crows to do. The smell of cooking meat teases my nose, and my stomach growls so loudly that Nush lifts an eyebrow.

I give him my most charming smile. “How about you give me my hands, my life, and a bowl of stew?”

Chapter Fourteen

Preener is waiting on my windowsill when I get back from the hospital. I’m so relieved to see him that I almost forget to bolt my door before running across the room. The bird takes a nervous hop back at the sight of me, but a few moments later he flies onto my table and presents his leg.

I untie the parchment with trembling hands and decode the message.

Was detained, but safe now. Camping nearby.

Detained? Did the Amparans find him? But at least he’s alive. I close my eyes and gather my thoughts. Given my conversation with Arxa this morning, can we possibly continue blindly with the plan? I need to speak with Dineas face-to-face.

I scrape off the top layer of the parchment with a knife, then pause to consider my response.

Must talk. Tomorrow night, first watch, northwest corner of the compound.

I start second-guessing my decision as soon as I send Preener off. Should I risk a face-to-face meeting so soon? And what if Arxa’s having me watched? Either way, the message is sent. Dineas will have to avoid guards on his way in, and I must trust him to do his part. As for myself, how will I get to the meeting spot without being seen?

At the hospital the next day, I notice the many wounded who come in for treatment—stab wounds, broken bones, head injuries. Law has very little meaning here, especially at night. Arxa’s warning not to wander outside alone after dark echoes in my head.

That night after dinner, I lock myself in my room and survey my belongings. I tie my blowgun to my belt. The darts, newly dipped in a sleeping potion, go in the pocket of my apron. And lastly Diadem, content after swallowing a trapped mouse the night before, goes on my arm. I cover it all with a cloak, and head downstairs.

The guards at the villa gate look up as I come through the courtyard.

“Please escort me to the hospital,” I say to the nearest one. “My patients will not wait until morning,” I add when he frowns.