“Stubborn, ’Kent-kissing fools,” she muttered, shaking her head and fumbling with the button on her breeches as she crossed to the privy, evidently still incensed by an earlier conversation. “We’ll have the local population at our throats before we even get to the Urghul. . . .”

Valyn shifted on the canvas slowly, sliding his head and shoulders through the hole.

Water sluiced through as he changed position, splattering the inside of the tent. Adare looked up, scowl on her face, and Valyn dropped, flipping in midair to land on his feet. She had just opened her mouth to scream when he clamped an arm across her throat, cutting off the cry and air alike. She started to thrash, but he buckled her legs with a quick knee and she folded to the damp dirt.

“I’m Valyn,” he hissed into her ear. The rain on the canvas roof was loud enough to drown out anything but a shout, but he wasn’t taking any chances. “Adare, it’s Valyn. Your brother.”

She went still. Then, just as he was about to relax his grip, she lunged forward, clawing at his arm with renewed fury. Grimly, he tightened his grip.

“I’ll knock you out if I have to,” he said. “Stop struggling. I’m not here to hurt you. I need to talk.”

Once again her muscles went slack.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he went on. “I needed to talk to you, and this was the only way.”

He eased up a little more. This time she didn’t try to break free.

“What about riding into the camp and asking for me?” she demanded. Her voice was low, but rough with both fear and anger. “The Kettral teach you how to ask?”

“Not really, no. Besides, il Tornja controls the camp. I wouldn’t make it ten paces inside the perimeter before someone clapped me in irons.”

“You don’t understand,” she said.

“No, I don’t. Not about this army, or the fact that you’re marching at the head of it. That’s why I came to you. Now, can I let you go? If I wanted to hurt you, you’d be hurt.”

It came out more roughly than he’d intended, but Adare hesitated, then nodded.

Valyn loosed his grip and she yanked free, rounding on him, eyes blazing. He could almost feel the heat. Adare opened her mouth as though to scream, and he tensed, ready to seize her once more. When she spoke, however, her voice was quiet but wire-tight.

“So you really have turned traitor. I didn’t want to believe it.”

He shook his head wearily. “That’s what they told you. It’s not true.”

“Really?” She cocked her head to one side. “Why don’t you tell me the truth?”