And so she proceeded, exactly as she’d seen the governor conduct trials. Each party told their story. The witness—Beatrix—told hers.

Wenda’s story did not change. She’d awoken to find Gregor in her sleeping blankets, his hand moving up her leg. Gregor simply said it did not happen. He was asleep in his own blankets. He awoke to Wenda striking him with her fists. Beatrix woke to see the two of them on their feet. She said they were nearer Wenda’s blankets than Gregor’s, but the two were separated by only a few paces.

There was, then, no easy answer. Gregor looked genuinely horrified; the girl genuinely traumatized. Could it have been a misunderstanding? Gregor rolling in his sleep, thinking it was a woman by his side? Or Wenda having a nightmare that seemed real?

Ashyn carefully suggested the possibility of an accident or misunderstanding, avoiding blame, but they vehemently denied it. Wenda said it happened; Gregor said it did not. Beatrix could add no evidence. The decision rested on her.

If she had any personal feelings on the matter, they sided with Wenda. She knew the girl to be good and honest. She barely knew Gregor at all, even after four days together. Yet that did not seem a valid criterion for such a judgment. Even were she to find Gregor guilty, his punishment would be imprisonment in the town where they now headed. She could insist he wait until the sun was high, then follow the same road, but if they were to encounter trouble, they would have no warriors to aid them. To punish Gregor could punish them all.

“I am not qualified to preside in a court of legal matters,” she said finally. “I must commend Gregor to the court in Fairview, where we now head. He will accompany us, but staying in the lead to scout our path. Wenda will sleep in Beatrix’s blankets. And Gregor shall give the child his dagger.”

The last part was, as she expected, the most contentious. Wenda was thrilled to have the blade. Beatrix was concerned and offered to hold on to it for her, but Ashyn said she’d show her how to carry it properly.

As they prepared to set out early, Ashyn excused herself to tell Ronan that they would not be leaving together.

The next morning Ashyn woke to Ronan’s voice whispering her name. She opened her eyes to see his face over hers, his eyes looking into hers, his lips over hers. She thought . . . Well, she supposed it was obvious what she thought. Not, she corrected later, that she actually believed he’d come to her in the night, driven by an overwhelming desire to kiss her. Such things happened often in songs, but Ashyn suspected they rarely did in real life.

What she truly thought was that she was dreaming.

“Ashyn?” he whispered. “Can you hear me?”