To Winter’s surprise, Jane was waiting for her when she returned to her own tent. Wordlessly Winter took her arm, and they slipped through the tent flap together. As soon as they were inside, Winter pulled Jane close and kissed her thoroughly, fingers tangling in her slick red hair.

“What’s wrong?” Winter said when she pulled away.

“It’s . . .” Jane grimaced. “I heard about what happened. De Ferre’s really in command?”

“Apparently.”

“Have you . . . I mean . . .” Jane, uncharacteristically, seemed hesitant. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do?”

“About de Ferre? I have no idea.” One crisis at a time. “I don’t know that there’s anything I can do.”

For some reason, Jane’s tense expression relaxed at this. “Good.”

Before Winter could ask for an explanation, Jane was kissing her again. Winter relaxed into her arms and tried not to think about what might happen in the morning.

Chapter Eighteen

RAESINIA

The silence in the wagon was oppressive.

There was no real reason to be quiet. It was true that they were hiding, but between the rattle of the wheels and the creaking and shifting of the cargo, the chance of being overheard was too small to worry about. Nevertheless, Raesinia found herself reluctant to speak, and her companions apparently shared the feeling. They sat side by side in the warm darkness under the tarp, and she listened to the soft whistle of Marcus’ breath. His shoulder was pressed against hers, and she could feel his arm tense as he clenched his fists in his lap.

She understood, in principle, the need for secrecy. Janus had given strict orders that Willowbrook’s precise location was not to be revealed to anyone who didn’t need to know, and furthermore too many furtive visitors would raise questions. About the only vehicles still regularly seen on the streets of the city were the wagons that delivered provisions to the estates of the wealthy, though more and more of these were pulled by mules these days instead of horses. The Mierantai courier had explained that the easiest way to get them in without alerting anyone was to put them on the regular supply run.

So, if all went well, no one was even paying the cart much attention. Raesinia found herself tensing anyway, every time a wheel bumped over a stone or they halted for a few moments to let someone pass. By the time the tarp was pulled back, letting in the late-morning sun, she’d been starting to wonder if the journey would ever end.

A middle-aged man in a captain’s blue uniform stood at the back of the cart, holding a salute.

“Good to see you again, sir,” he said.