And Nira . . . Adare studied her surreptitiously while she ate a small bowl of cold rice. While it was true that the old woman had proven helpful, even kind, in her brusque way, since the scene by the canal she had become more guarded, her eyes more dangerous. She understood as well as Adare that the balance of power had shifted between the two of them, and it was clear she didn’t appreciate the shift. Nira had redoubled her lashings, both verbal and physical, as though newly determined to teach the young woman a lesson, any lesson.

“Look,” Adare said finally, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. “I appreciate your hiding me these past weeks, but things have changed.”

Nira’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t seem that different to me.”

“They don’t?” Adare asked, trying not to raise her voice, shooting a nervous glance at Oshi. “Have you forgotten the other night? Forgotten what I saw?”

“Don’t see that it matters.”

Adare exhaled slowly. “Yes. Well. I do.” She leaned in. “I know who you are. You’ve kept my secret, and I appreciate that, but traveling with you is an enormous risk. . . .”

“Being a princess disguised as a pilgrim is a risk.”

Adare nodded vigorously. “Which is why I don’t need any more.” She took a deep breath, trying to slow herself. “The other pilgrims already distrust you. You heard Lehav the other night. I think it might just be best if we went our separate ways.”

Nira frowned, then shook her head. “Don’t think so.”

Adare stared. “You don’t think so?”

“Think we’ll keep on as we’ve been.”

“No,” Adare said, the fear rising up inside her. “You’re not listening. I will find other companions.”

“And have me wonderin’ every day if you sold us for a bit a’ trust from yer newfound friends?”

Adare shook her head. “I wouldn’t do that. Never. Besides, if I went to the pilgrims claiming that Roshin and Rishinira are just over there, cooking fish by the wagon, who would believe me? People would think I’d lost my mind.”

“They might not believe the Atmani part,” Nira said grimly, “but it don’t take much talk a’ leaches to see a couple old fools strung twitchin’ from a tree.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Adare insisted again.

Nira smiled a toothy smile. “I know. B’cause you’ll be right here with us till the long walk’s over.”

Adare took a deep breath, gathering her nerve. The woman and her brother were leaches, they could kill her with a gesture, but the three of them sat in plain sight of the rest of the pilgrims, barely a hundred paces of untilled field between them. Surely Nira wouldn’t be bold enough to attack Adare where the others might see, might notice. Adare tried to believe that as she leaned forward once more.