She needed to put as much distance as possible between herself and those who might soon be chasing after her. That meant riding straight west as far as the road. The traffic on the road would hide evidence of her passing, and she’d make good time, whichever direction she chose.

Which way?

She had Fiona’s saddlebags, but no idea what was in them. She had a little money in the purse still tucked inside her coat.

If Micah and Fiona got free of the battle, they would guess she’d return south, to Oden’s Ford, and rejoin Amon and the others. They would not expect her to travel north on her own, especially after what had just happened.

Montaigne, on the other hand, might expect her to continue north, making for home, or west to Tamron Seat, for sanctuary. Hopefully the Tamron army would keep them occupied for a time. Surely Montaigne wouldn’t chase after her, with an invasion under way. No doubt he’d continue on to the capital.

So north it was. If she could make it as far as Fetters Ford, perhaps she could get word to Captain Byrne to send an escort. They’d either go north through Demonai Vale or east via Marisa Pines, depending on the news at that time.

Ghost needed no encouragement to leave the clamor of battle behind. Raisa gave him direction with her knees and hands while her mind picked over events of the past and prospects for the future.

She longed for the simple safety of childhood, the ability to give over responsibility to the Captain Byrnes of the world, sheltering under their protection.

But adulthood slipped up on you, she thought. It was forced on you whether you liked it or not. She had changed. She was not the same person who had run away with Amon Byrne ten short months ago.

She was more able, but less confident. She was better equipped to judge people, and less convinced of her ability to do so. When she’d left the Fells, she thought of people as being sorted into lots—good and bad, brave and cowardly. Now she realized that there were bits of both in most people—and which elements prevailed often depended on circumstance.

Micah Bayar, for all his faults, was a mixture of good and bad. She might be dead at an assassin’s hand, if not for him. He’d tried to free her when they were captured by Gerard Montaigne. But he presented different faces to different people, and his efforts to keep her alive were likely selfish at their root.

Raised on romance, Raisa would have said that it was impossible to love two men at once. That there was one true love for every person, if you could only find it.