Panic clawed at her stomach as she stared at the final stretch between her and the men. Half an hour had passed since she’d escaped from the Hover, she guessed. How much longer until Sable’s people started searching for her? Were they already?

An image of Liv lying on the balcony in Rim flashed before her eyes, pushing her into action. She hurried, almost to the guards when she stepped on a twig and heard it snap. The sole of her boot muffled the sound, but she froze, silently cursing herself. Haste had made her careless. There was little cover where she stood, and any Aud within fifty feet would’ve heard her—the guards were less than half that. She waited, adrenaline coursing through her, making her feel weightless.

The two men didn’t look her way. They didn’t even pause in their conversation. But amid the sleeping people in front of them, a dark head lifted, turning slowly toward her before lying back down.

She couldn’t see Roar’s features in the darkness, but she knew it was him. She knew his shape and the way he moved.

Aria sank to the ground, setting the heavy piece of driftwood down. She picked up the twig under her foot. Her right hand was weak, but she could still do this.

Please work, she prayed. This was either a perfect test, or suicide.

She snapped the branch again.

Neither of the guards turned. Not Auds, then. Unlike Roar, who responded to the sound by raising both arms up high, his fingers interlaced like he was stretching.

She shook her head. A little obvious, but Roar did everything with a bit of flash.

Time to move. She was as sure as she could be. The guards weren’t Auds. Roar knew she was there. She picked up the driftwood and moved again, drawing as close as she dared. Then she stopped and firmed her grip, licking her lips.

“In five seconds, cough loudly,” she whispered, knowing Roar would hear her.

She counted off the seconds. When Roar coughed, she sprinted the last steps to the Horns.

The men looked at Roar, oblivious to her as she charged them from behind.

She swung the driftwood at the closest man’s head, putting all her weight behind the strike. She did it with so much force that she felt the muscles in her back pull. The sound of the impact was horrid and made her gasp despite herself.

He toppled over the log, falling limply behind it.

She turned, searching for the second man. Roar had him on the ground already, trapped in a headlock. She heard the guard’s feet buck and scrape on the dirt. A soft gurgle, and then nothing.

Roar sprang up. He held his hands in front of him oddly. Then she saw why.

“Your hands are tied?” she whispered.

“Yes. I showed you.”

“Just get Soren.”