Her sister had made good on her promise, whipping her dagger and pinning his cloak to the wall. And that was it. One throw of that blade, and he’d completely forgotten Ashyn. He’d followed Moria for the rest of his visit, composing ballads about the flaxen-haired warrior girl of Edgewood. By the time he left, his cape was so full of holes it looked like a fishing net. Yet he wore it as proudly as if Moria had covered it in kisses instead.

Then there was Levi. Again, Ashyn hadn’t been truly interested; he was a braggart and a bit of a fool. After he kissed her behind the village hall, she’d hurried home to tell Moria. She’d expected they’d laugh over it. Moria had indeed laughed . . . because he’d done the same to her. The next day he’d awkwardly apologized to Ashyn, and she realized he had drunkenly mistaken her for her sister.

Now Moria had caught Ronan’s attention.

“It’s getting late,” Ashyn said as she stood. “We’ll pick up the game tomorrow.”

“No, stay. My apologies. I was just . . .” He leaned to peer through the window and down the hall.

I know, she thought. And I don’t blame you.

“You can’t go anyway,” he said. “Moria said to wait until she gets back.”

“Yes, she does that. But I’ll be fine. I have Tova.”

The hound rose at his name. Ignoring Ronan’s protests, Ashyn put the game aside and said her farewells. Before she could take a step down the hall, though, the guard appeared in the flickering lantern light.

“I cannot permit you to leave without your sister,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Theoretically, Ashyn’s authority matched her sister’s. But in martial matters, particularly with the guards, it was Moria’s voice that rang the loudest.

“She seems to have forgotten me,” Ashyn said.

Anyone who truly knew Moria would realize that was impossible. Most likely, Moria had been waylaid and simply delayed. But Ashyn was tired and not particularly eager to wait.

The guard looked up at the hatch, as if considering. Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry, but she was very clear.”

“Can you get someone to find her, then?”

He hesitated.

“The barracks are right above us,” she said. “Someone must be near.”

He nodded. She followed him down the hall. He climbed the ladder, opened the hatch, and called out. When no one answered, he called again, louder. Then a third shout, one that made her ears ring.

Something’s wrong.

The thought seemed to leap from nowhere, but it didn’t, of course. It had been there since they’d run from the forest. Whatever happened out there isn’t over. She’d felt that in her gut, in the cold silence of the spirit-empty village. When they’d met with the commander, she’d wanted to tell him to run. Everyone run.