“Come over here, ya willful little slut,” she pressed, glaring. “ ’Less ya want me saying what I got to say right out here in the open, which I’m thinking ya don’t.”

Adare hesitated. What she wanted was to slip away from the woman as quickly as possible, but slipping away didn’t seem to be an option. Worse, there was something knowing in Nira’s tone, something almost accusatory, that pricked up the hairs on the back of her neck. After a moment more Adare nodded, then followed, clutching at her dress, trying to keep it clear of the press of muddy pigs. When they had stepped far enough around the wagon that the sideboard obscured the closest pilgrims, Nira rounded on her.

“Listen,” she hissed, voice low, eyes shifting vigilantly over Adare’s shoulder. “You want to leave your palace and play poor little blind girl, I’m sure you have your reasons.”

Fear took Adare by the throat. “I’m not—” she began.

Nira waved down the objection. “Quit it. I’m not in the secret-trading trade and I’m not looking to join it now. A girl’s got a right to her lies—’Shael knows I’ve learned that lesson a few dozen times over—but,” she continued, stabbing Adare squarely in the chest with a bony fingertip, driving her back against the rough wood of the wagon, “you look likely to step squarely in the shit without any pushing on my part.” She shook her head, jabbed at the mud with her cane, and muttered angrily under her breath. “I’ve got enough to do keeping Oshi’s cracked nut in one piece, and now I’ve got you, too.”

“You don’t have—” Adare began, heart slamming against her ribs.

“Oh, ’Shael’s shit I don’t,” the woman snapped, raising her voice once more. “Without me, you’d be fucked up the arse with a thick, crooked dick before we slipped past the city walls. Now toss your sack on the wagon and move outta my way before I get cross.”

8

Valyn stood by the window, cold wind scouring his face, staring out into the night. He had insisted on taking first watch, and the rest of his Wing, accustomed to catching fragments of rest whenever, wherever, converted their coats and packs into makeshift blankets and pillows, arranged weapons for easy access, then dropped abruptly into sleep. The others weren’t far behind, and by the time the first stars were glittering overhead only Kaden remained awake. He sat cross-legged just a pace away, gazing out over the low lintel of the same window. For a long while neither said a word.

“What’s the point in standing watch,” Kaden asked finally, “when you can’t see anything?” He gestured toward the window. “I feel like I’m looking into the bottom of an iron pot.”