Stasia flung her trousers on, then her boots. A touch at the word-lace around her neck, and the magic enacted, changing the color of her eyes from red to brown. A glance over her shoulder to check on Clarissa showed the tiny woman having wrapped her skirt around her waist and reaching for a shirt.

“No, not yours,” Stasia said. “Mine.”

Lessons of a dozen rebellions screamed loud and clear in her mind: Do not be identified, and do not get caught. Her heart thundered inside her chest cavity as she ripped open a wardrobe. Clarissa’s style was significantly higher class, her shirts more colorful and bearing the frills along the neck and sleeves currently popular throughout Thanet. It almost hurt to rip the sleeves off one when she put it on so it wouldn’t restrict her movements come the inevitable battle.

“Tie your hair back, quick.”

Stasia dropped to her knees and reached underneath the bed. There awaited the objects she never went without: her twin axes and her cloth mask. Stasia positioned the skull of a roaring panther over her face, taking comfort from its presence, comfort she needed to remain calm when she heard banging on the door downstairs. She put one ax on the bed, then used the other to cut a slit into a second shirt from the wardrobe. That done, she slid the shirt over Clarissa’s face, the slit settling over her eyes, and then tied a knot around the back of the neck. Face covered, hair hidden, and body clothed in Stasia’s baggy shirt… it’d be enough. It had to be enough. If Clarissa was seen during their escape, and identified…

“We won’t hang,” she said, retrieving her other ax. She pressed the two heads together, then locked them tight after sliding in the connecting handle so she might hold the great-ax with one hand. “You hear me, Clarissa? We’re going to escape. No matter what happens, no matter who I have to kill, you don’t stop running. You are going to run, and run, until you’re on the gods-damned other side of Vallessau. Am I clear?”

Clarissa nodded in answer. The knocking on the door intensified. Angry shouts accompanied it. They’d bring a sledgehammer soon. Every building must be checked, every person must be identified, otherwise the sweep would not be ruled complete. Stasia stared into the blue eyes of the woman she loved and vowed to burn Thanet to the ground if that was what it took to keep her safe.

“We use the back door,” she said.

“Won’t they be ready?”

“Not for me.”