“Listen,” he says. “Why don’t we make an arrangement? We don’t even care about the treasure that much.”

“Well—” Olani interrupts, before cutting herself off quickly with a glare in his direction.

“What does that mean?” Isolde asks, voice hard.

Raze takes us both in. “Thirty percent,” he says finally. “I’m just looking for whatever he meant by the Wildline legacy. Nothing else matters. Get us there, and you can have thirty percent of the treasure—or whatever it’s worth in gold. Whichever you prefer.”

I close my eyes for a long time, trying to make the pain recede so I can put my thoughts in order. They need us. We don’t need them. But they seem a lot more prepared for this journey and whatever might be at the end of it than we are. And they’ve already chased us this far, which means that even if we try to run now, they’re just going to track us again.

Which means there isn’t really another choice.

“Fifty,” I say.

Raze responds too quickly. “Done.” I should have asked for more.

Isolde’s voice lowers, so only I can hear. “Seels, are you sure about this?”

I nod. She’s the better strategist, but if there’s a way out of this, it’s out of both of our reach.

“So you’re in?” Olani asks.

She looks to Isolde, who nods. “If she’s in, I’m in. We find our wagon. Then we’ll take you...wherever it is this thing leads.” Isolde really doesn’t look well, but her voice is as firm as ever.

Raze shakes his head, and my heart sinks so quickly I start to feel sick. “We don’t have time to waste on a wild-goose chase,” he says, an edge in his voice.

“You don’t get to...to decide that!” I complain.

He frowns, crossing sturdy arms over his chest. “Oh? You’re the one who stole the compass and ruined everything. You have no idea how important this is to me. I don’t care that you lost your wagon, I don’t care that you’re sitting here in the dirt bleeding—” he gestures to Isolde, then to me “—and burned alive. But I’m pretty sure you’ll be worse off trying to wander the Western Range without us. You should be paying us. It’s downright generous of us to offer you even a thought of payment, instead of—how did Olani put it?—taking your hand and leaving the rest of you here in the mud.”

His words sting, and I don’t know why. My hands cup my face and rake through the roots of my hair.

“I-I can’t do this right now,” I say, still stuttering on every couple of words. Once I get going, though, I can’t stop. “You want to complain? Okay. You got us caught at the manor, and somehow I ended up with an enchanted tattoo—which, by the way, I didn’t even mean to take, and now I can’t get rid of it even if I wanted to. We lost our wagon today—our home—while you two were busy trying to kill us. I got hit by my own bolt of lightning, and my sister got bashed in the head, and I still don’t know how serious it is. We were knocked unconscious in the mud at the side of the road, beaten worse than we’ve ever been, and drenched to the bone with rain, only for you two to start making demands before I was even fully conscious. But no, I feel so bad for you.”