The carriage rocked softly as it rolled over the Royal Road's golden bricks.

  From inside, the noise of the city felt muted. The ctter of hooves and wheels became a steady, controlled rhythm, the kind of sound that insisted everything was orderly. Safe.

  I did not for a second believe it.

  Lumiere sat across from me with her ledger open on her p, a thin pencil moving in precise marks as she listened to Etienne speak. The Duke had the easy posture of a man in motion, one hand braced against the carriage wall.

  "We will camp tonight," Etienne said calmly. "There is a stretch of crown nd with a shallow stream and enough ft ground for the carriages. After that, we continue through Crossreach tomorrow and spend the night there."

  Lumiere made a note. "And the guard?"

  "The guard will rotate watches," Etienne replied. "Two rings. One for the carriages, one for the horses and perimeter. It's a formation we're well-practiced at. We make this trip once or twice a year, after all."

  He gnced toward me, then away again, as if trying to decide how much to say in front of me.

  I did not hesitate. "Is something the matter, Your Grace?"

  Etienne's mouth twitched, almost wry. "I can tell you are concerned about the spectacle, Miss Cire. Rest assured this is intentional. We are demonstrating we have nothing to hide."

  I felt my shoulders tighten. I peered out the carriage window to distract myself from my thoughts.

  Outside, the world was framed in narrow slices: the road, the low stone walls, the fields beyond. Winter had not yet taken everything, but the nd looked tired. Harvest stubble. Bare branches. A pale sky.

  I watched the countryside slide past and tried not to imagine how easily a rider could shadow us from those fields without being seen. Tried not to imagine how many such riders Corveaux could afford.

  A soft knock from the carriage roof made me flinch.

  Etienne turned his head. "Yes?"

  A guard's voice came down, formal. "Your Grace. The Hero reports the road ahead is clear. No obstructions. No travelers."

  Etienne's gaze flicked to Lumiere. "No travelers," he repeated.

  Lumiere's expression did not change, but her fingers tightened slightly on the ledger's spine. "That's unusual."

  "It's early," I said, and hated how thin it sounded. "Maybe they haven't embarked yet?"

  Etienne nodded once, as if he would accept the excuse for my sake, not because he believed it. "Perhaps."

  Lumiere wrote another small note.

  We rode in silence for a stretch. I tried to convince myself the tightness in my chest was only the memory of Corveaux's voice, of his inevitability, of the way he had said my name like he owned it.

  Eventually, the carriage slowed. The sound of the wheels changed, softer, as the road gave way to packed earth. Etienne leaned forward and drew the curtain back an inch.

  "We are leaving the main thoroughfare," he said. "We should arrive at the camp site before dusk."

  Lumiere closed her ledger and set it aside. "Good. We will want the tents up before the light goes."

  The word tents made my stomach tighten in a new way. At the thought of canvas and thin walls.

  I forced myself to breathe anyway.

  If I stayed afraid of open air, I would never move again.

  When the carriage finally stopped, the shift in motion was so sudden I had to brace a hand against the seat.

  The door opened. Cold air spilled in.

  Etienne stepped down first, then offered Lumiere his hand. She took it, graceful even on uneven ground. When it was my turn, I accepted his help without comment and stepped into the grass.

  The camp site was exactly what Etienne had promised: a shallow stream, a stand of trees that broke the wind, enough space for the carriages and horses. The honor guard moved with quiet competence. Tents went up in clean lines. Fires were set in pits already dug.

  I saw Rocher and Evelyn in the distance, returning from their scouting run. The horses were calmer now, damp at the fnks from exertion. Rocher swung down from Friedrich with a heavy exhale, one hand rubbing the stallion's neck. Evelyn dismounted Fritz and immediately began checking straps and buckles.

  When Rocher noticed me, his expression softened. He started to step closer.

  Evelyn caught his sleeve and pointed at a loose strap. Rocher hesitated, then turned to help without argument.

  I took a mindless step toward him, but the sound of Lumiere's voice pulled me out of my trance.

  "Cire, which tent do you want?"

  I blinked. "Pardon?"

  "Which tent do you want?" she repeated mildly. "We'll be sharing one tonight." She reached out and took my hand. "You look like you could use the company."

  I had no idea whether to feel grateful or ashamed.

  I settled for a quiet nod and gestured to one near the inner ring.

  The camp settled into a rhythm. Horses were watered. Guards rotated. Food appeared in bowls that tasted better than it had any right to.

  Etienne ate with his honor guard as if he weren't the Duke. As if rank didn't exist on the road.

  I sat beside Lumiere near one of the fires and tried to eat. My eyes kept drifting to the darkening tree line. To the spaces between trunks where movement could hide.

  A twig snapped behind me.

  Too close.

  I turned sharply, heart already in my throat.

  Doug and Dougs loomed there, both of them wrapped in cloaks that made their broad shoulders look even more threatening in the firelight. Something like determination flickered in their faces before their expressions softened.

  "Sorry, Miss Cire," Doug said, raising his hands. "Didn't mean to sneak up on you."

  They stepped past me toward Evelyn on the opposite side of the fire.

  "Here to report, Guildmaster," Dougs said.

  "We found something," Doug added.

  Evelyn looked up at that. "What?"

  Doug and Dougs exchanged gnces. "Fifty-four or fifty-five."

  My breath caught.

  Evelyn's eyes narrowed. "Enemies?"

  Dougs shook his head. "Bricks," he said proudly. "We found they are always fifty-four or fifty-five across, alternating."

  "Which means we need only count the rows," Doug expined in earnest. "Clever, isn't it?"

  "Oh," Evelyn said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Right."

  Lumiere touched my shoulder gently. "Breathe, sister," she murmured.

  I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

  When dusk fully settled, the camp dimmed into pockets of firelight and shadow.

  Lumiere and I retreated to our tent after the second watch took over. The canvas smelled like clean linen and fresh pitch. A small ntern sat in the center, its fme steady.

  Lumiere folded her cloak and id it at one end of the bedrolls. I did the same with mine, then sat, then stood again, unable to settle.

  She watched me without judgment. "You're still worried about him."

  Corveaux, she meant. She did not have to name him for my stomach to turn.

  "I have to be. I have to stay one step ahead," I said quietly. "Who he's speaking to. What he's pnning."

  Lumiere's eyes softened by a fraction. "It is reasonable to fear. But you cannot pn your way out of everything. There are times you must rest."

  I gave a humorless exhale. "You make it sound so simple."

  "It's necessary," she sighed. "It's every day with the Church."

  I gave her a small hug before we went to bed.

  For a while, the night was only the sound of the stream and the distant murmur of guards changing shift. I stared at the tent ceiling and tried to let my thoughts loosen.

  That's when I heard it.

  A horse snorted sharply outside, not the normal impatient breath of an animal shifting weight, but the high, startled sound of something that had caught a scent it did not like.

  I was already sitting up.

  My hand found my dagger reflexively, fingers tight around the hilt. My heart hammered.

  Something was out there.

  Another sound followed. A soft, ugly scrape. Cloth against bark. The tiniest click of something being drawn back.

  I was on my feet before I thought about it.

  "Cire?" Lumiere murmured sleepily behind me. "What are you doing?"

  "Shh. I heard something," I whispered, already pushing through the tent fp.

  Cold night air spilled over my skin. The camp y in uneven firelight and shadow, tents pale against the dark, horses shifting restlessly at their lines.

  The guards on watch turned at the sound of me stepping out, surprise flickering across their faces.

  "Miss Cire, you should stay in the tent," one of them began.

  Then I saw it.

  A glint.

  High in the trees beyond the outer ring, barely visible between branches. The faint, familiar reflection of moonlight on metal.

  A crossbow.

  The guard in front of me was standing directly in its line.

  I ran.

  I hit him full in the chest and drove us both to the ground as the bolt sang through the space where his throat had been a heartbeat before.

  It buried itself in the canvas of the nearest tent with a dull, vicious thud.

  The guard beneath me gasped, eyes wide, staring at the pce he should have died.

  "Bandits!" I shouted, scrambling up and dragging him with me. "We're under attack!"

  The camp exploded into motion.

  Shouts. Steel. Horses rearing. The clean lines of formation dissolving into sudden, brutal chaos.

  Etienne's voice cut through it, sharp and commanding in a way that made something in my chest ache. "To me, men! To me!"

  Lumiere was suddenly beside me, no longer sleepy, eyes bright and focused as she raised a hand. I raised mine alongside hers.

  "Holy Light."

  Light fred between our fingertips, blinding white, turning the shadows in the tree line into stark silhouettes.

  Too many of them were moving.