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The door rattles and Saeth snaps again. “I told you not to touch this door.”

What reward?I mouth to Quint.

A line has appeared across his brow, and he shakes his head.I don’t know.

“What reward?” Thorin demands.

“For the capture of the king,” says the guardsman, as if it’s obvious. “For what he’s done.”

For an instant, the air outside the carriage is absolutely silent, and those words hang in the air dangerously. I’m staring at Quint, and it’s hard to breathe. I have no doubt my guards are outside this carriage, deliberating the best course of action.

The gate guard must figure it out at the same time, because I hear the click of a crossbow. “Youdohave the king! Larriant, call for the captain! Send for the night pa—”

Someone throws a punch, and something heavy collides with the carriage. The vehicle jolts and lurches forward, turning soquickly that I’m thrown back against the seat. The sudden movement jars my leg, and I cry out, just as the carriage begins to tilt to the side. Hooves pound against turf, but we’re still turning, and I feel myself slam into the wall. We’re going to tip over. We’re going tocrash. My stomach flip-flops.

But then Quint grabs my arm and hauls me away from the side, and the suddenness of our movement slams the wheels back into the ground. The carriage bounceshard, then fishtails on the path, then finally straightens out. Shouting erupts outside the carriage, and a few arrows strike the outer walls, but we’re traveling fast.

We’re both a bit sprawled on the floor, and I’m breathing like we’ve run a race, but I look at Quint. “Thank you,” I say. “That’s the second time you’ve saved my life.”

He’s breathing hard, too. “Crashing didn’t seem like a good option, Your Majesty.”

“We still might.” The carriage is going too fast for the terrain, and we rock and sway every time we hit a rough spot.

I want to demand information, but Quint is just as trapped as I am. I don’t even know if we’re heading into the Royal Sector or away from it.

I ignore the pain in my leg to lever myself back to the window, then jerk the curtain to the side. A jagged crack splits the glass, but it still holds. Trees are flying past, alarmingly fast.

We’re heading back into the Wilds.

I look at Quint. “I don’t know where we’re going,” I say, and I choke on my breath. This is worse than waking up in Violet’s barn, terrified of who might walk through the doorway. At least then I wasn’t worried about the barn crashing down around me. “I don’t even know who has us now.”

What reward?

For the capture of the king. For what he’s done.

My breathing threatens to go thin and reedy, stealing all my thoughts while my body strains for survival. I focus on slowing each breath, until I canthink.

“I trust Thorin,” Quint says.

“I do too. I just don’t know if he’s still driving this carriage.” I cast a glance at the window and wonder if we should risk jumping out. Landing in a pile of broken bones doesn’t seem like it would have much of an advantage.

I skip my eyes over his attire. I have no idea whether he can fight, but he’s not armed. I’m not either. But most of the palace carriages are outfitted with hidden weapons from a time when we had frequent cause to travel outside the Royal Sector, when bandits and outlaws were a concern for the royal family.

I tug at the velvet casing beneath the rear seat, then thrust my hand inside.

Nothing but dust.

Quint is a quick study, and he’s checking the opposite side before I even need to order him to do it.

He withdraws two daggers, both small, both coated in dust. I can see rust along the edge of one blade. Quint brushes them off against the floor of the carriage, and I cough.

“Forgive me,” he says.

“For what?” I wheeze. “Give me one.”

The weapon is hardly longer than the width of my hand, but I grip the hilt and brace myself against the wall opposite the door. No more arrows have struck the carriage, but branches whip the walls and trees fly past the narrow window. We’re still traveling dangerously fast.

And then … we’re not. The carriage slows.