Lena also stole a glance at the darkening sky and the black shapes emerging from the gray, then set off into the forest.

They hadn’t ridden far by the time they heard hooves beating the soft earth some distance behind and shouts of “Stop, in the name of the King!” thronging the storm cloud like the cries of ghosts.

They spurred their horses faster, dangerously close to losing their footing in the mulchy forest floor, but soon it was clear the men were gaining. A few flashes zipped through the thick cloud, mingling with the blue-green flickers of lightning.

“They’re attacking!” Emris called over the noise of their hooves. “We should separate—I’ll try and lead them off.”

And before Lena could protest, he had wheeled his horse off to the right and was swallowed in the cloud.

“No!” she called. But it was too late. How would he find his way without her? The thought of Emris lost in the forest—infested with vicious serpents and hostile mages—made her insides lurch uncomfortably.

The sounds of pursuit dropped off but didn’t disappear altogether. Among the maze of trees and the shifting cloud, it was difficult to tell whether the noises of hooves and voices and the flashes of magic were real, figments of her imagination, or even the effects of the noxious cloud on her bare eyes. Lena shut her lids briefly and felt the tug of magic inside her growing stronger and stronger. She must be nearing the city by now. She just had to trust her instincts, like Emris had said.

Her eyes snapped open as the horse’s muscles strained, and it vaulted a fallen tree, sweat foaming on its glossy coat. Lena clung on, her legs burning, hair lashing her face. The purple robes flapped behind her, damp with vapor. She sensed her mount wouldn’t last very much longer.

A close branch overhead whipped away the thought—she ducked at the last minute, a shower of dead lichen falling on her shoulders. The cloud was thickening, her exhausted mount working hard to pick out a trail. Lena ached all over, inside and out—but she couldn’t give up, not now, not ever. She was so near she could feel it.

She heard the thud of another set of hooves, a cry of frustration or victory. That was real, she thought in panic. Someone was close by. Her horse swerved around a desiccated stump, snorting. She risked a glance over her shoulder, glimpsed a flash of something in between the thick, dead trees—still some distance behind but gaining.

Suddenly the ground lurched, her horse rearing with a wild scream as a ditch opened up on the forest floor, and Lena flew through the air. She landed heavily on her back in the soft earth.

“Hey!” she tried to shout, but—winded—only a muffled wheeze escaped her lips. The horse was already galloping off into the darkness.