“There!” Ox says, loudly enough to hear over the wind. I follow where he points and make out the shape of a one-story house with light glowing from inside. A pale tower stands close by it, a huge beacon of light flashing at the top. The light flickers like a candle flame, but in a steady time. Light. Dark. Light. Beside the house is another darker building made of slatted wood.

“We should head to that barn,” Sethran says just as I’m about to suggest it. “Hurry. This storm is coming in fast.”

The scents of dust, hay, and refuse pour from inside the barn as we bypass the house. A lock rests on the front door, keeping the animals inside safely enclosed.

“Let’s go around the back,” Sethran says. We follow him until we’re out of sight of the house. He nudges a loose board with his foot and tilts his head. “Callen.”

It’s an order, not a question. I bring my axe high and swing it low and fast. The wood splinters, and a few hits later, there is a space large enough for us to squeeze through. The others go first, and I climb in as the first droplets of rain hit my skin.

The barn is lit only from a lone lantern hung near the doorway. Above our heads is a loft stacked high with even more hay, and farther into the darkness is the murmur of livestock. A horse shifts in its stall, wary of our presence. Even without Knowledge, animals like horses and sheep can sense the inherent danger in Leonodai blood. The only part of Vyrinterra where Leonodai are not welcome are in the horselords’ herds.

“Up,” Sethran says. “If the humans come here, we can attack from above.”

We do as we’re told, and within minutes, we’re huddled together in the almost dark, surrounded by heavy bales of hay. Droplets of rain leak in from the roof above, but it’s as good as anything we’re going to get.

Shrugging off my cloak, I spread it wide in hopes it’ll dry. The straw itches against my skin, but I lie down anyway and feel the sleep threatening to take me almost instantly.

“Are we just going to sit here?” Rowan says.

“We’ll wait until the rain clears,” Sethran replies. “We don’t have the resources to go looking now.”

“But the prince—”

“Enough, Warrior-Elect. We are no use to the city if we get sick from wandering out in the rain. We’re where we need to be for now.”

Rowan goes quiet. I try to make eye contact with her, but she gets up and moves to a different area of the loft, fluffing the hay up in a show of her building a bed.