“There was nothing I could do,” she said, still weeping. “If I could have traded my hands for yours, I would have done it, but there was nothing I could do.”

“Lyrra, my love, even if you could have offered, I wouldn’t have let you.” He ran one hand over her hair, thrilled by the feel of it. “Come on, now. No more tears.”

Lyrra eased back and rubbed her cheeks dry. “No more tears.”

With their arms around each other, they walked back to camp. Ashk waited until the evening meal was done. Seeing Aiden’s hands had shaken her. Seeing Rhyann restore his hands had shaken her in a different way. She knew the pentagram Rhyann wore gave her a comfort that might well be illusion. The witch sitting beside her was a stranger—and a powerful one. Since they were most likely traveling in the same direction for a while, she needed to know just how powerful Rhyann was—and she needed to find a way of asking without giving offense.

“It’s time, Ashk,” Aiden said.

Yes, it was time. Ashk sighed, allowing herself that one indulgence before she sat up straight. She had to believe they could win. Despite what she’d heard from both the baron and the Fae, she had to believe.

“An army is marching toward the southern end of the Mother’s Hills. They’ve already crushed two counties when the barons there tried to stand against them. Our forces are still too scattered. The barons are gathering and leading their men at best possible speed, but they may not have time to come together as an army of their own.”

“What about the Fae?” Aiden asked.

Ashk smiled grimly. “I don’t know if it’s fear of me or the Huntress, or if they’ve finally seen the enemy in a way that makes the danger to Sylvalan clear even to the most stubborn among them, but they’re all on the move as well. I just don’t know if they’ll be in time to hold the Inquisitors’ army.” Or defeat it.

“The storms will slow down the Black Coats’ army,” Rhyann said quietly.

Ashk looked up at the clear night sky. “What storms?”

“Rain will turn roads into rivers of mud,” Rhyann said, her voice sounding dreamy in a way that made Ashk shiver. “Creeks and rivers will rise, becoming impassable, and stone that had held a bridge strong for a hundred years will tumble into water. Wind will sing so fiercely no other voice will be heard. And lightning will be fire’s steed. Yes, the storms will slow them down, and your people will have time to gather.”

“What makes you certain there will be storms?” Aiden asked.

Rhyann smiled at him. “I can taste them on the air. I felt them in the water. The Grandmothers will not let the Inquisitors harm Sylvalan.”