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Andry and Charlie stood over the teakettle, adding leaves to the boiling water, while Corayne looked on, chattering about nothing. Sigil sat on a stone, sharpening her ax, her leather armor shucked off for the evening. Valtik was a silhouette at the edge of the bluff, her face to the wind. Her braids trailed like ribbons. After the clearing and the twelve Amhara corpses, the peaceful camp was almost jarring.

“Dom and Sorasa coming back empty-handed? I’m shocked—” Charlie began, but his playful smirk died on his lips. His warm brown eyes went wide, running over Dom and then Sorasa.

Even Corayne was silent, her jaw dropping open. She glanced between them, trying to piece together some idea of what had happened. Between the blood, the bruises, and their blades, all stained red, it was not a difficult puzzle to solve.

Sigil jumped up from her seat, the ax swinging in her hand. “What happened?” she demanded, her eyes on Sorasa. “Bandits? A Treckish war band? They shouldn’t be this far south.”

“Spindle monsters?” Corayne prodded, her voice catching with fear.

Andry moved to them and gestured for their weapons, which Sorasa gladly handed over without a word. “Let me clean these for you,” he said softly. “Sit down, rest.”

Even without a knight, Andry Trelland was still a squire, and still more observant than all the rest of them. He took her daggers and sword, gathering them with care to lay out for washing. Stone-faced, Dom drew his own greatsword and put it down withthe rest. The steel mirrored the red horizon, bloody through and through.

Sorasa ignored Sigil and fished her waterskin out, strolling toward the bluff. She dumped it over her head as she walked, letting the water roll over her ragged hair and bloody face.

Sigil made to follow, her face drawn with concern. But Dom caught her by the bicep.

“Leave her,” he said.

“What happened?” Sigil asked again, her teeth bared.

Dom saw the same question in all their eyes, even patient, quiet Andry’s. He hesitated, wondering the best course of action. One thing was clear: it would be his responsibility to explain. Sorasa certainly could not and would not.Bandits. War bands. Spindle monsters.There were so many easy lies to reach for, but none to explain Sorasa’s behavior, or her empty eyes.The truth is best,he decided.Part of it, anyway.

“Assassins,” Dom said, wringing all emotion from his voice. He threw off his dirty cloak, wishing there were a stream nearby. “Taristan and Erida have paid the Amhara Guild to kill Corayne. They were unsuccessful.”

Corayne’s gold face paled, the firelight dancing on her cheeks.

“Well, of course they have,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I suppose it’s only fair half the realm wants to kill me.”

Sigil was more subdued. Judging by her tight face, she knew better than to celebrate this victory. “How many did you kill?”

“Twelve,” Dom answered. Their faces were already fading in his mind.

At the fire, Charlie stood stock-still, staring into the flames.His round body cast a long shadow behind him, thick as a wall.

“Was Garion there?” he ground out, still looking into the fire.

Garion?Dom tried to place the name, racking his memory. He sifted through what he knew of the fallen priest, until he remembered Charlie’s paramour—an Amhara like the ones dead behind them.

“I don’t know,” he replied. It sounded like an apology.

Charlie’s lips moved without sound, forming a prayer.

When Sorasa finally returned to the circle, her face was clean and her short hair slicked back. She carried her tunic and cloak over her arm, grimy and bloodstained. Her undershirt wasn’t as dirty, but still pitiful, torn at the neck to show more of her oily black tattoos. Dom glimpsed a new one; a winged snake to match the emblem on the jade seal. He grimaced, remembering the markings down her ribs. All her deeds and all her mistakes inked into her skin, forever.

Sigil didn’t say anything, though he could tell she sorely wanted to. She took a seat as close to Sorasa as she dared, her fingers twitching. Even Corayne managed to wrestle her natural curiosity into submission.

Charlie could not.

He stood over Sorasa, his hands balled into fists. His body shook with fear.

But his voice was even and steady. “Was he there?”

When she didn’t answer, he crouched, level with her eyes.

“Sorasa, was he there?”

Dom held his breath but could not hope. He did not know who remained back at the clearing, which bodies lay to feed the crows.