Speaking of vulnerable. She thrust her finger into the pouch at her waist, pulled out the wolf ring talisman, and slid it once more onto her finger. It seemed unlikely there would be any wizard attacks between here and home, but still. It made her feel safer to have it on.

Ahead, Raisa could see the glittering towers of Fellsmarch Castle poking above the buildings, a sight that tugged at her heart. So much had happened since she’d last seen them. She pounded down regret like bread dough before its second rising. Learn from it, she thought, but don’t waste energy on what cannot be changed.

And it was good to be home. She looked about, drinking in the details she’d missed for so long—the twisting side streets, the steps built into the alleys that climbed the slopes in the outer city, the northern accents clamoring around her, and, yes, the stink of cabbage cooking and wood fires and the filth that ran in the gutters.

She took a deep breath and let it out, allowing her shoulders to slump a bit in relief, already looking forward to a hot bath and good northern food. As she did so, she caught a flicker of movement on the roof of a building ahead. A dark silhouette rose into view, its motion fluid and sinuous. It stilled itself, taking careful aim. Instinct caused her to shift sideways and down, to present a narrower target. She opened her mouth to shout a warning.

Amon swore and lunged toward her as something like a fist slammed into her right chest, nearly unseating her and bringing tears to her eyes.

Bedlam ensued. Before Raisa knew what was happening, Amon had scooped her from her saddle, cradling her close and leaning over her so that his body covered hers.

“Make way!” he roared, in a hoarse, unfamiliar voice, urging his horse into a gallop, willing to ride down any fool who didn’t get out of his path.

Bricks and tiles flew as a blast of wizard flash hit the roof where the archer had been. It was Han Alister, discouraging any second attempts.

“Mellony!” Raisa gasped. “See to my sister’s safety.”

She saw flickers of blue to either side, breathed in the acrid scent of wizard flame, heard shouted orders and the twang of longbows. They thundered into the broader, straighter streets near the castle, through the gate that led into the castle close.

Still, Amon did not slow. Raisa could smell the moat and hear the hollow rattle of hooves over wood as they crossed the drawbridge at a dead run. They passed under the portcullis and into the interior courtyard of Fellsmarch Castle.

The portcullis slammed down behind them.

She was home.