Arwia raced her white steed through the night next to Dagan and me. The horse’s muscles strained and stretched beneath its ivory hide, and her hair followed after her in silken waves as we galloped hard. The warriors who were with us sneaked stealthily in twos and threes, seamlessly disappearing in the crowds on the great road that passed between city-states. Only Ummi and the Koru brides stayed with us on their horses, their faces resolutely forward wherever we might lead.

“Faster,” I breathed into Dagan’s ear, and he tightened his hand over my arms that were encircling his waist as we sped, together, toward the safety of the encampment.

Toward Nanaea and Kasha and little Rish.

Toward a plan that would hopefully secure Alu for Arwia and restore the city that had raised me, had chewed me up and spat me out, but still resonated in my heart. Still beat within my breast. Still held the bones of my family.

I was a healer, and I had an entire city counting on me to get rid of the infection that had festered for far too long.

I couldn’t let them—any of us—down.

They were the most powerful brides I’d ever seen, and my heart practically leapt with hope, something I desperately needed. Rish had been awake when we’d arrived early this morning, and his stitches had not only looked good, but he was in bright spirits for someone who’d been told they could never use an appendage again. He’d shrugged his shoulder and said he was glad it was gone because it had hurt him something awful. After stuffing him with honeyed dates and all the sweet figs I could find, I left him with the young woman who suffered from moon-blood pain. She was telling him a story about their night goddess at Laraak, and Rish, his eyes wide, was enraptured.

His stump, however, nearly broke me. For the rest of my life, whenever I saw it, it would remind me of how I’d hurt him. But I left my worry behind for the moment. I couldn’t let it deter our plans.

The brides standing before me made me believe they might actually work out.

Ummi looked fit for her wedding day, as did the other Koru. Ummi’s hair was brushed into a short tail at the base of her neck, and her lips were painted gold. Thick strokes of kohl outlined her big eyes, which peered out from her filmy veil with more ferocity than was safe. She’d refused to remove the bracers about her forearms, so Nanaea tied silks over them down to her wrists. All of the Koru looked mildly uncomfortable, poking one another and laughing shyly. Humusi, the lean Koru warrior who’d discovered the assassin in Manzazu with us, bobbed around like a cat until Nanaea practically had to tie her down to dress her. Ummi’s face flushed red as a trader walking through the camp whistled, but Arwia scolded him.