“No.” Amon looked around the room, meeting every eye. “Nobody so much as touches his weapon. I mean to get them out of here without spilling blood. Any soldier that makes a move on them will be brought up on charges.”

There was another mutter of protest, but Amon thought they’d follow orders.

They made a rather odd procession, like refugees from some poorly planned and provisioned war. Twenty-five or so prisoners limped, shuffled, and swaggered at the center, loosely ringed by Amon’s mostly beardless cadets. They marched through the duty room and out the door, crossed the courtyard, and turned onto South Bridge. Guards stared at them, perplexed, as they streamed across. Citizens cleared out of the streets ahead of them, but peered out of windows and leaned out of doorways after they’d passed.

Amon’s racing heartbeat slowed a bit once they’d made it to the other side of the river. They marched straight down the Way of the Queens until they were out of sight of the guardhouse.

“Turn here,” he commanded, veering off into a side street. They walked a ways farther, made another turn, and Amon brought the parade to a halt.

“All right,” he said. “You’re free to go. Just don’t land in gaol again, all right? That’d be hard to explain.”

Most of the prisoners melted quickly into the shadows and were gone.

But Sarie blinked at him, then glanced around, suspicious to the bone. “Just like that? You’re springing us? How come?”

Because your princess heir commands it, Amon thought of saying. Because I’m a fool. Because I still haven’t figured out how to say no.

“Because you’ve been ill used,” Amon said. “Because some of us don’t believe in beating a confession out of a person.”

“Such a pretty speech, Corporal.” And just like that, Cuffs was there with the rest of the Raggers. The Gray Wolves bunched up, prickling with weapons.

“No worries,” Cuffs said, grinning. “Cat and me just came to meet and greet.” He nodded toward another Ragger, a tall Southern Islander with a scowl on her face.

“Let’s go,” Cat said, and all of the Raggers, including the three held by the Guard, bled into the surrounding streets. All of the Raggers but Cuffs.

He came and stood before Raisa, sketching out a little bow. “Rebecca,” he said, “bravo. I do think you’re a Ragger at heart.”

“She’s not,” Amon said, pushing between them. “If by that you mean she’s a thief and kidnapper.”

“Amon,” Raisa said, laying a hand on his arm.

“I’m thinking your girlie don’t seem that happy to see you,” Cuffs said, shaking his head sadly. “I thought she’d be all over you with happiness, and not even a chaperone kiss.”