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Kipp’s brow furrowed. ‘Detaining her? For what?’

‘Associating with a known traitor?’ Thea bit back.

‘You want to arrest everyone he’s ever talked to?’ Cal hiccuped.

Thea rolled her eyes. Men. Absolutely useless.

But her attention was drawn back across the fire to where Adrienne was speaking with Hawthorne.

‘Any luck?’ the ranger asked him.

‘No,’ he replied bluntly.

She clapped him heartily on the shoulder. ‘I guess it’s plan B, then. I’ll let the others know what to expect.’

‘You think I’m just going to let you go?’ Thea blurted in disbelief.

Adrienne looked amused. ‘You sound like Anya too.’

‘I’mnothinglike her,’ Thea snapped. ‘And you’re mad if you think I’m setting you loose on the midrealms when you serve her.’

‘You may have your Warsword in chains, storm wielder, but without your magic, I don’t see you being able to stop us all.’

Thea’s jaw nearly dropped, for more than one reason.

This woman knew who she was. Knew of her power and her loss of it. Which meant that Hawthorne had done more than betray her – he’d sold her secrets to the enemy as well.

Her hands itched for her dagger, her sword, her throwing stars in her boots. ‘I have fought and slain worse than the likes of you.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ Adrienne allowed. ‘But for the record… I don’t serve Anya,’ the rebel said calmly. ‘I serve the Shadow Prince.’

Thea’s mouth went dry at the mention of the other enemy leader. Someone worse than the Daughter of Darkness, who united the strange creatures that sprouted wings and talons like their monster counterparts…

‘Thea…’ Cal interjected. ‘Maybe you should eat something? Sit down by the fire for a while?’

Thea’s whole body was taut with tension, but Kipp came to her side and nudged her gently with his elbow. ‘He’s right, you know. No one is going anywhere yet. There’s roast goat to be had and wine to be drunk, and it’s too fucking cold to leave the fire.’

Thea suppressed a sigh as she scanned the campsite. No one was fleeing the scene; no one was whispering treasonous plans in the dark. In fact, Hawthorne had edged away from the group, and was tending to his stallion as best as his bound hands would allow.

The memory hit her without warning, and the Wesford Road materialised before her, Hawthorne at her side.

‘You never told me what your horse’s name is…’

Wilder’s cheeks flushed and he outwardly grimaced. ‘His name is Biscuit.’

Thea blinked. ‘Biscuit?’

Wilder was clearly trying to keep a straight face. ‘Malik and Talemir’s idea of a joke,’ he admitted. ‘Bastards were there when I claimed him. They jumped in when it came to finalising the poor creature’s name. It stuck.’

A laugh bubbled out of her. ‘Biscuit. Your warhorse, the gift you received for being one of the most infamous warriors in all the midrealms… is calledBiscuit.’

Not long after, Hawthorne had threatened to follow her to Tver and name her stallionPancake. She’d only laughed.

Now, Thea watched him, the man who’d shed the facade of friendship, of something more, to ally with those who sought to destroy everything she held dear. She tracked his tender yet masculine motions as he brushed the burrs from Biscuit’s coat and checked the shoe on each foot for stones. The picture before her was a myriad of contradictions.

‘What even is a ranger?’ Cal asked Adrienne loudly. ‘Are you some sort of spy?’

The newcomer laughed. ‘We’re more like scouts, I suppose. We guard and protect the remaining lands of Naarva. That can mean spying or conducting raids… Mostly we deal with the blight of the shadow wraiths.’