Evelyn's door was shut.

  I knocked once.

  Nothing.

  I knocked again, harder. I could hear movement inside. A chair scraping. The soft, unmistakable clink of gss.

  "Evelyn," I said. "I know you're in there."

  Silence.

  I rested my forehead against the wood.

  "Listen," I said quietly. "I'm not here to drag you back. I just need you to hear me."

  No answer.

  "We're leaving for Ironspine today," I continued, "to challenge the Mountain Guardian's trial."

  I waited for any kind of response. All I got was the creak of a chair.

  "Rocher needs our strength. He doesn't remember the st year. He doesn't remember us. If he stays like this..."

  My voice caught. I swallowed and kept going.

  "...he'll die."

  The door did not open.

  I counted my breaths. The corridor smelled faintly of old ale and smoke.

  "I know what you did," I said. "And I know why. I don't bme you for it. Not one bit. If I were in your position..." I bit my lip. "I'd probably have done the same."

  I'd experienced firsthand what Corveaux was like. How he made what he wanted sound like the reasonable thing. The only thing.

  The entire time we were in the Forest, we'd left her alone with him.

  Something thudded softly inside. A bottle, maybe. Or a footstep.

  "You don't have to answer, Evelyn," I said. "But don't tell yourself you're not part of this. I don't believe the woman who traded that much to protect us would just sit this one out."

  Silence stretched.

  Then the tch clicked.

  The door opened only a crack.

  Evelyn stood there, red-eyed and wrecked, sable hair hanging loose around a face that looked like it had not slept in days. Her shirt was crooked. Her hands shook.

  "You didn't have to come all the way here," she said hoarsely. "I got the order from the pace. The Prince made it very clear I was to report for the expedition." She swallowed. "You might not be so happy about that."

  I did not answer. I pushed past the door and wrapped my arms around her before she could brace herself.

  "As long as you're there," I said into her chest, "that's all that matters."

  For a second she didn't move. Then her arms came up, awkward and tight, and she clung back like someone who had been holding herself together by sheer force of will.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered into my hair.

  "I know," I said.

  Even as she held me, I could feel how much had shifted between all of us. I didn't know if we'd ever fit back together the way we had before.

  But she was here. That would have to be enough for now.

  Evelyn pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes still wet.

  "It was a wonderful speech, though."

  I huffed a quiet, shaky ugh despite myself.

  The Royal Road caught the morning like a mirror.

  Its golden bricks were still slick with dew, each one reflecting a fragment of sky, carriage, and crown until the entire avenue looked as if it had been gilded overnight. The pace gates loomed ahead, their ironwork picked out in pale light, banners stirring zily above them as the day's first traffic gathered to pass beneath.

  The Duke never traveled quietly.

  Two white Aurelian carriages waited just inside the gate, their cquered panels gleaming like polished bone. The ducal crest was worked into their doors in silver relief, crisp and unmistakable. A full honor guard stood in formation around them, armor burnished, cloaks hanging straight despite the morning breeze. Even at rest, they looked like a procession already in motion.

  Servants moved between the carriages with quiet efficiency, loading trunks, checking seals, murmuring to one another in low voices. Courtiers lingered at the edges, drawn by the spectacle, pretending not to stare while doing exactly that.

  It was too much.

  Too bright. Too orderly. Too visible.

  The kind of departure that could not happen without being noticed.

  I stood just off the road, watching the scene assemble itself, and tried not to think about how many eyes Corveaux must have on us already.

  Lumiere and Duke Etienne stood near the lead carriage, angled toward one another in quiet conversation.

  Lumiere held a small ledger tucked under one arm, her fingers resting lightly on its spine as she spoke. Etienne listened with the patient attention of someone used to weighing words before acting on them, nodding occasionally, offering a low reply that made her tilt her head in thoughtful consideration.

  When I approached, she gnced up and smiled faintly. "Seraphine just sent word. She will join us once her work is concluded."

  With the White Warden, I thought, but did not say.

  "If it's any consotion, she did not sound pleased about the dey," Etienne added.

  I shrugged. "No, that's just Seraphine. She rarely seems pleased about anything."

  The sound of hooves cut through our idle chatter.

  Two massive bck stallions burst into view from the far end of the Royal Road, coats gleaming, breath fogging faintly in the morning air. They moved like twin storms barely held in check.

  The brothers Fritz and Friedrich.

  They pulled up hard near the convoy, hooves striking sparks from the golden bricks. Rocher leaned forward, one hand braced on Friedrich's neck, breathing harder than he should have been.

  "You're going to have to get used to him again," Evelyn said. "You've been riding Friedrich for the better part of the year already."

  "Sorry," Rocher said, sheepish. "That's going to take some adjustment. In my memory, I'm used to riding the calmer one."

  "There's a calmer one?" I muttered under my breath.

  Fritz tossed his head violently, ears pinned back, as if offended by the comparison.

  I quietly wondered who used to hold Friedrich's reins. I had the feeling I already knew.

  Before I could ask, another set of hooves announced new arrivals.

  Two riders approached from the inner gate, both in dark armor marked with the griffon-embzoned insignia of the Night Wardens. Their cloaks fell in identical lines behind them, hoods pushed back to reveal faces that looked more bored than intimidating.

  "Doug and Dougs reporting, Guildmaster."

  They reined in beside Evelyn with crisp, professional movements.

  Evelyn didn't look when they saluted.

  "We have been assigned to your protection detail, Miss Cire," Doug said to me, tipping his helmet.

  Protection is what he called it. But I recognized the shape of a leash.

  Evelyn grimaced. "Told you you shouldn't be happy about me being here."

  I just gnced between the two Night Wardens. "I think if you weren't here, Corveaux would have simply sent a Dougie in your pce."

  A small smirk betrayed her.

  Dougs frowned. "Which one of us is Dougie?"

  Evelyn waved her hand. "Whichever answers to it first."

  She leaned closer to me and lowered her voice. "It wasn't intentional that their names are simir. I just asked around for the two thickest Night Wardens we've got, and somehow that happened."

  Doug nodded. "We appreciate your praise, Guildmaster."

  Dougs nodded too. "We train every day to get this thick."

  Evelyn closed her eyes.

  Rocher covered his mouth with his hand, trying not to ugh. That was a mistake.

  Friedrich surged sideways, hooves skidding against the golden bricks as if he had suddenly decided the entire Royal Road was an insult.

  Rocher swore under his breath, hauling on the reins and leaning his weight into the turn.

  "Easy," he muttered, breath already tight. "Easy now."

  Friedrich tossed his head violently in response.

  Evelyn nudged Fritz forward a step. "Come on, Hero. Let's scout ahead."

  Rocher blinked. "Ahead?"

  "Yes." She lowered her voice. "If we don't let them run, they'll turn the convoy into a crater."

  Rocher hesitated only a second before nodding. "Right. That makes sense."

  Doug cleared his throat. "What are our orders, Guildmaster?"

  Evelyn didn't look. "Count the bricks."

  Dougs straightened. "The bricks?"

  "All of them."

  Doug frowned. "That's a lot of bricks."

  "I expect a full report."

  The two Night Wardens exchanged a gnce, then dutifully turned their horses around and began to count in low, serious voices.

  Evelyn's mouth twitched.

  She and Rocher kicked their mounts forward, the two bck stallions surging into motion with obvious relief as they tore down the road, armor and leather creaking with power as they finally had somewhere to go.

  I watched her back as she disappeared—at the weight apparent on her shoulders.

  I didn't envy her position. Trapped between us and her duty to the Crown Prince.

  But we needed her. Now more than ever.

  I said a small prayer for her under my breath.

  The convoy finished assembling. The st crates were secured. The final seals pressed into wax. Drivers climbed to their benches, reins gathered in gloved hands.

  The great white carriages waited, doors open.

  Etienne offered his hand to Lumiere first, helping her up the steps with practiced ease. She took it without hesitation, skirts gathered neatly as she stepped inside.

  Then he turned to me. "For the moment," he said with intention, "you shall ride with us."

  I nodded and took his hand, letting him steady me as I climbed into the carriage.

  Ahead of us, the Royal Road stretched away in a line of gold.

  Behind us, the pace still loomed, bright and watchful, as if it had not quite let us go.