There was still a great deal that could go wrong, and Winter chewed her lip as she waited. De Ferre might have been lying, or he could have been tipped off by their preparations. If they send the carriage by another route, tonight is going to be bloody chaos. She therefore felt a knot in her chest loosen when the sound of hoofbeats and rattling wheels reached her around the bend in the road.

She had her back to a huge pine tree, felled by the cavalry and dragged across the road to create a barricade. It smelled of needles and sap, and scratchy pine needles brushed against her every time she moved. Winter raised her head enough to see the road, and waited until the lanterns of the carriage came into view. Then she stood up, uniformed but unarmed, and waited.

They’d picked a stretch of road where the carriage would have plenty of time to brake—it wouldn’t help anybody if the whole thing toppled over the hillside. The vehicle slewed to a halt in front of the barrier, horses sidestepping nervously as far as their harness would allow. The driver had the reins in one hand and a long-barreled shotgun in the other, and four escorting Patriot Guards rode alongside with muskets. They gathered in front of the pine and leveled their weapons when Winter stepped up to stand on the trunk.

“What’s this? Who’re you?” one of the escorts, a lieutenant, barked. He was obviously on edge, and his finger was already on the trigger of his long, unwieldy weapon.

“Colonel Winter Ihernglass, of the Third Infantry,” Winter said. She held up her hands. “As you can see, the road is blocked.”

“Not for long,” the lieutenant said. “Ferrer, Gunter, hitch your horses to that mess and drag it out of the way.” To Winter, he added, “You, get down and don’t move.”

“Before you do that, I suggest you look up at the hill,” Winter said. “Carefully.”

“Sir!” One of the Patriot Guards gestured wildly with his musket, making Winter wince.

On the hill, above the road, two dozen men in blue had risen to their knees, short-barreled weapons trained on the guards. Carbines might be less accurate at range, but the distance was barely twenty-five yards. The other side of the road was a steep drop, impassable to horses. The lieutenant’s eyes went up to the cavalrymen and then back to Winter.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he said. “This is treason.”

“Probably,” Winter said agreeably. “But that’s not your problem, is it?”

Sweat gleamed on the man’s face. “General de Ferre instructed me to break through any resistance.”

“You could try that,” Winter said, trying to keep her tone calm. “And then some people are going to end up dead. That might include me, but it will definitely include you, because the men up there had instructions to leave no survivors once the shooting starts.”