But convincing my friends to let me go without them would be next to impossible. They’d argue that my life shouldn’t be put in danger, because I’d also be putting Tristan at risk. Except that was why we’d created the seeds – so that I could do what needed to be done. And judging from his ceaselessly neutral emotional state, the magic was still in effect.

I waited until the darkest part of the night, when everyone except those on watch would be fast asleep. Gran stirred as I stood, and I bent down to murmur, “Nature calls,” before edging the door open wide enough for me to sneak outside.

The twins had a tent next to my cabin, but only one of them would be sleeping in it, the other patrolling our camp until it was time to be relieved. I lingered in the shadows, watching the horses on the picket line until, almost as one, they turned their heads and stared off into the darkness. It was something I’d noticed with all animals around the trolls, especially Souris: they watched them. And they listened. The twins had only shrugged when I’d asked why, but now the observation would serve me well.

Marking the direction the animals were staring, I eventually picked out the faint crunch of snow beneath the boots of an invisible troll. Waiting until whichever twin it was moved on, I crept over to the horses, compelling them to be silent as I slipped a saddle and bridle on my mount and led him into the trees, walking slowly as I searched for the wards I knew were in place.

The twins disdained the tall fences Angoulême’s followers used to surround their camps, preferring to use a series of what could only be described as triplines. They used so little magic that they were virtually undetectable, but would instantly warn either of them if they were triggered. Fortunately, I knew where they were and how to get by them. The first set were about knee height, and I set a branch across two rocks so that my horse would step over it. The second would cut across my waist, and it took me several minutes to build a jump in front of it. Mounting my horse, I walked back until I was almost at the first tripline, then dug in my heels and cantered toward the jump, praying the wind would drown out the sound of hoof beats.

I leaned forward as the horse leapt, my gut clenching as I heard his hoof clip one of the branches. Don’t fall, don’t fall, I prayed, pulling the animal up on the far side and listening for alarm in the camp.

Nothing. I’d made it out, but I only had a few hours until my absence was noted. I needed to put them to good use.