It was the first day out from Desland, and the Third Regiment was marching along in fine style on a pleasant autumn morning. Winter, Jane, Bobby, and Cyte rode together near the head of the column, far enough from anyone else that their conversation wouldn’t be overheard. Beside them, the Girls’ Own tramped in loose ranks, chatting and joking. There was a nasty edge to them, Winter thought. They were angry.

They had a right to be. In addition to the two guards who’d died trying to defend her office, they’d found two other soldiers dead: a young man from the Royals with wounds to his face, who’d been stripped of his uniform, and a woman on watch at one of the gates, who’d been snapped in half like a toothpick by the giant on his way out.

Winter hadn’t told everyone that the attack had been made by the Penitent Damned, of course, but there was no hiding the fact that there had been an attempt on her life. Rumor had filled the gap left by the absence of facts, and it was now widely accepted that the assassins had been sent by the Kommerzint, the Hamveltai intelligence service. Winter was happy enough to let that stand, since it was close enough to the truth to be believed.

After the attack, when soldiers had rushed into the blood-spattered room and then out again to put the whole citadel on alert, Winter had only been able to steal a few moments with Jane. She’d promised a full explanation, but they’d passed a sleepless night simultaneously directing the search for the vanished attackers and rechecking the preparations for the next day’s march. At Cyte’s insistence, Winter had taken a few hours to fall into an exhausted sleep, but she’d been up with the late dawn to get the troops on the road.

Now, with the march well under way, she reviewed the story she had to tell and winced. Damn. I wouldn’t believe me, either.

“Me, either,” Bobby said. “I didn’t believe it, I mean. Not at first. Not until after Feor healed me.”

“Who’s Feor?” Cyte said. Winter had expected more of a reaction from her, but she was only listening carefully, brow furrowed, as though she expected to be quizzed on the material later.

“I’d better start from the beginning,” Winter said. “Which is Janus’ arrival in Khandar.”