Raisa had to admit, that made sense. Well, she didn’t actually have to admit it.

It would be easier to contemplate leaving if she weren’t convinced that much of the current trouble had been caused by her running away before. Nor did she look forward to traveling anywhere with a sister who wouldn’t speak to her. Ever since their conversation about Micah, Mellony had locked herself in her room, refusing to see anyone.

I broke her heart, Raisa thought. Maybe I had no choice, but I didn’t have to speak so harshly to her. One more thing to feel guilty about.

Amon’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Once you leave, we’ll let Karn know you’re gone. He might give up besieging the castle, and give us some relief.”

“All right,” Raisa said finally, too weary to resist further. “Let’s make a plan, anyway. I need ideas. What is likely to be the best way to slip out of the city unnoticed?”

Someone tapped at the door. Mick stuck his head in. “Captain Byrne? We have a situation.”

Amon scowled, clearly not wanting to retreat before fully securing his victory. “We’ll be at least another hour, private Bricker. Could you—”

“Sir. It’s young Klemath. Kip. He wants to speak with Her Majesty. Says he has a message for her.”

What now? Raisa thought. Why would Kip be here? Is Klemath senior having second thoughts about his new ally?

“Where is he?” Amon asked.

“He’s in…he’s in the dungeon, sir,” Mick said.

“In the dungeon?” Raisa rubbed the back of her neck, trying to release the tension there. “Was that really necessary? He may be a traitor, but I’ve never thought of him as dangerous.”

“It’s for his own protection, Your Majesty,” Mick said. “Tempers are running high in the Guard. Some have family out in the city. And, given what’s happening out there…”

“What do you mean?” Raisa said. “What is happening?”

Mick bit his lip, looking to Amon for direction. “Something bad,” he said.

Raisa and Amon followed Mick out of the audience chamber, the others trailing behind. They walked along the barbican to a point where they could look down over the curtain wall.

What she saw chilled Raisa’s heart.

On the parade grounds, a ring of Ardenine soldiers had penned in threescore citizens—men, women, and children—their hands bound behind their backs. Nearby, soldiers had erected a crude platform topped with twin uprights and a crossbar. Raisa recognized it for what it was—what Han Alister would have called “the deadly nevergreen.”

“A gallows,” she whispered. “Sweet Lady of the mountains.”

She stared down at the scene, horrified, until Amon touched her elbow.

She spun around. “Let’s go see Klemath,” she said, making for the stairs.