“Watch me.” Montaigne handed Raisa off to Karn. “Take these wizardlings and the princess back across the river, and keep a close watch on them. Bring their horses. We’ll talk more tonight.” The prince of Arden straightened his silver gauntlets. “Ah, Karn, this changes everything.”

Karn gripped Raisa’s arm and dragged her toward the river’s edge. The other Ardenine soldiers herded Micah and the others after her.

Snick. A soldier fell just behind her, both hands clutching at an arrow sticking out of the middle of his chest.

Snick. Snick. Snick. The sound of crossbows. More soldiers fell.

“Your Highness! Take cover!” Karn let go his hold on Raisa and thrust his bulk in front of Montaigne, who pawed at his sword.

The Ardenine soldiers scrambled for cover as a troop of horse soldiers exploded from the forest, threatening to overrun them. Riderless horses ran in all directions. Raisa sprinted for the trees, toward the road and away from the river. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Micah grab Fiona’s hand and drag her behind a fallen tree.

The cavalry wore a signia of a purple-and-gray heron, wings spread, landing on water. The emblem of the king of Tamron.

“To me!” Montaigne shouted. More Ardenine soldiers appeared at the run, coming from the direction of the river. A pitched battle erupted—the Red Hawk of Arden against the Heron of Tamron.

Raisa raced blindly through the forest, leaping over fallen trees and other obstacles, meaning to gain as much distance from the fight as she could. Montaigne was preparing to invade Tamron, that much was clear. If Arden’s thousands of soldiers crossed the river, there could be no doubt as to the outcome of this skirmish. Weaponless as she was, she had few illusions about the contribution she could make.

Looking back over her shoulder for signs of pursuit, she nearly ran headlong into the side of a horse.

“Hanalea in chains!” she said, skidding to a halt.

It was Fiona’s horse, Ghost, a tall, spirited, gray stallion with four white stockings. Raisa leaped forward and caught hold of his reins. The horse laid back his ears and shied away from her hand, but Raisa still managed to swarm up and into the saddle. The stirrups were set far too long, but Raisa clung to his back like a thistle and drove her heels into his sides. Ghost extended his long neck, accelerating into a gallop, twisting and turning through the trees.

He probably doesn’t even know I’m up here, after Fiona, Raisa thought.

Pressing herself flat against the stallion’s neck to avoid being unhorsed by low branches, she gave him his head and let him run.