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“If we’re lucky, they’ll just ask for money and send us on our way,” Malou said.

“And if we’re not lucky?” Sadie asked.

“Then one of us might get a black eye or our stuff stolen,” she muttered, biting her thumbnail as she eyed us. “But with you lot here, who knows?”

“Everybody out!” a voice boomed again. Solid thwacks knocked down the side of the wagon. The unsettling sound pushed everyone to dress faster.

“Just be calm,” Navin said, ushering us to the back ladder. “It’ll be fine.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Malou muttered. She and Mina clambered over the couches and down the ladder.

I followed behind her, Grae’s hand on the small of my back, wondering what had happened last time. The bright sunlight was blinding against the freshly fallen snow. The heavy shadows andlow angle of the sun told me it was still early morning. Only the smallest flashes of color peeked out from the frozen surroundings. We had entered another narrow pass on our descent toward Olmdere. A watchtower sat on the hill above us, looking like a lighthouse in a sea of snow.

Four Rooks stood beside the wagon, only their eyes visible above their covered mouths and noses. Ora stood beside the oxen, watching as we climbed out. The only one dressed for the weather, they wore a fur hat and thick indigo cloak. We barely had time to put on shoes, as we stumbled out in tunics and trousers. The chill bit into my skin and my arms instinctively wrapped around me as I trudged out into the ankle-deep snow.

“Where are you heading?” the front Rook asked Ora. His black cape whipped behind him, sounding like the flapping of a bird’s wings. He nodded to two of his comrades and they broke off to search the wagon.

“Olmdere, my Lord,” Ora said, taking off their hat and brushing back their curls as they bowed slightly to the Rook. “We are Galen den’ Mora. We are going to perform at Her Majesty’s celebrations.”

Her Majesty. The words made acid rise up my throat.

“You’re all musicians?” The Rook’s hood turned as he assessed our lineup. He twirled his hand scythe around his pointer finger, brandishing his steel claws for all to see.

“Yes, musicians and crew,” Ora murmured.

The Rook walked down the line of us, looking each of us up and down. Mina clenched her sister’s hand as the Rook paused in front of her.

“What’s your name?” he asked her.

Her gray eyes grew impossibly wide as she signed her name back to him.

“Mina,” Malou interpreted for her and in that moment the twins looked so different I wondered how I could’ve ever mixed them up. Malou was sharp and fierce. Mina was gentle and shy.Both were beautiful and talented, but never once had I seen that wide-eyed fear of Mina’s expression on Malou’s face, nor the gruff distaste in Malou’s pinched mouth on Mina’s.

The Rook arched his brow. “A musician who can’t hear?”

“She can hear,” Malou said, her tone tipping the balance from sharp to mean. “There’s more than one reason to use the language of signs.”

The Rook twisted toward her so quickly it made her rock back on her heels. He twirled his hand scythe again and Malou had the good sense to stay quiet.

He snickered at her surprise, but kept walking, apparently satisfied with her reply. I kept my gaze downcast, watching as his boots appeared before mine.

“And your name?” I knew he was asking me without looking up.

I wasn’t sure if it was better to lie or not. Now that people knew about King Nero’s renouncement of Grae, maybe they’d know my name, too.

“Vellia,” I said.

“Vellia what?” the Rook asked, tilting his head so his eyes pierced into me from under his heavy brow.

Grae sidestepped closer to me.

“Vellia Sortienna, my Lord,” I said, bowing my head.Vellia of the Golden Trees. It had been the first word that popped into my mind. “I’m a singer.”

“You’ve probably heard of our little songbird from Queen Ingrid’s masquerade?” Ora flourished their hand toward me. “It was the talk of Taigos afterward.”

“I’m not much of a music-lover,” he said with a spit. But the Rook didn’t move for the longest time after that. With each passing moment, my pulse grew louder, wondering if he recognized me somehow.

Finally, he spoke. “All right, it’ll be ten crovers to pass the border.”