The twins disdained the tall fences Angoulême’s followers used to surround their camps, preferring to use a series of what could only be described as triplines. They used so little magic that they were virtually undetectable, but would instantly warn either of them if they were triggered. Fortunately, I knew where they were and how to get by them. The first set were about knee height, and I set a branch across two rocks so that my horse would step over it. The second would cut across my waist, and it took me several minutes to build a jump in front of it. Mounting my horse, I walked back until I was almost at the first tripline, then dug in my heels and cantered toward the jump, praying the wind would drown out the sound of hoof beats.

I leaned forward as the horse leapt, my gut clenching as I heard his hoof clip one of the branches. Don’t fall, don’t fall, I prayed, pulling the animal up on the far side and listening for alarm in the camp.

Nothing. I’d made it out, but I only had a few hours until my absence was noted. I needed to put them to good use.

The wind howled, and I scanned the blackness of the forest, praying I wouldn’t run afoul of a mountain cat or pack of wolves. I’d brought a bow and handful of arrows, but they were unlikely to do me much good. I watched my horse’s ears, trusting the animal’s instincts to warn me if danger lurked in the darkness.

The river flowed in near silence, the winter so cold that even the roughest rapids now rushed beneath a frozen surface. I guided my horse down the trail flanking the fall, watching for the pond that marked the entrance to the labyrinth.

I almost missed it.

The pond was frozen over and then blanketed with snow, the marks that Angoulême’s party had made when they ventured out long since buried. If not for the rough paddock the traders had built, I would have bypassed it entirely. Slipping off my horse, I led him through the gate before removing the saddle and bridle and turning him loose. The fence was enough to keep him here for a time, but should something happen to me, he’d have no trouble breaking free if he put his mind to it.

Shouldering my satchel, I held up the lantern and stepped onto the ice, the light trembling as I ascertained whether the way was passable or if the cavern was frozen over for the winter.

It was open. But barely.

The ice groaned as I crept toward the rocks, the sound so loud that I was sure anyone within miles would hear it. Reaching the overhang, I dropped to my knees and set the lantern aside so I could shovel snow out of the way.

It would be tight.

Even with the snow cleared down to the ice, there was less than a foot between pond and rock. Easing the lantern under the ledge, I shoved my bag after it, then lay on my back, tipping my head to the side so I could pull myself through. The ice bit and scraped at my cheek, and the rock caught at the front of my cloak, making me glad I wasn’t busty. My breath was deafeningly loud, pulse racing as I considered how exposed I was: head and shoulders in one world and feet thrashing for traction in another. I kept waiting for someone or something to grab me from either end, the cruel press of teeth or the bite of steel, and I wriggled harder.