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“Get behind her,” I order, but he’s already moving that way.

“There’s nowhere for you to go,” I say. “Surrender.”

Kymora flicks loose, greasy strands of hair out of her eyes. Her usual no-nonsense bun has come free, and she’s slipped off the gag that was hiding the smooth scar on her cheek. Somehow, her disheveled appearance only makes her look more intimidating.

“How much time will you waste chasing me when your sisterneeds to reach the capital?” the warlord asks. “I would have thought every second counted by this point.”

Her words do their job, infuriating me, renewing my sense of urgency, probably making me reckless.

I grind my teeth as I leap forward, and Kellyn does the same from behind the woman. She can’t properly deflect us both with only one good leg to stand on, but that doesn’t keep her from trying. Her stick catches my hammer, and she spins into me to avoid Kellyn’s strike. My instinct is to step backward, away from the hateful woman.

I ignore it and kick out at her shattered knee.

Kymora screams as she falls, dropping the stick.

I grab one of the warlord’s arms, attempt to pin it to her back. Kymora swings outward with her other arm, tries to catch me in the head.

I pull her pinned arm up higher, straining the muscle and bone. The older woman grunts as I shove her forward, forcing her to the ground. I fumble with her other wrist, try to also get it pinned to her back. Meanwhile, I’ve got my full weight pressing into the woman.

“Yield!” I shriek at her.

“Never!” She tries to throw her head back, the movement making her look like a beached fish.

“If it’s a choice between letting you get away and killing you, Iwillkill you,” I say. “You’ve taken everything from me, and you deserve to die!”

Kellyn adds his weight to mine, practically sitting on her legs so she can’t kick them outward. He produces a length of rope, and I use it to secure her wrists once more, tighter than is necessary.

We each grab an arm, haul her upward, and carry her back to the cart, Kymora fighting the whole way.

Petrik comes running out of the trees and bends over to rest his hands on the tops of his thighs. “The last man got away.”

“Never mind him,” I say. “Help Kellyn.”

Despite his fatigue, Petrik helps haul his mother into the cart. When she’s secured once more, he inspects the severed ropes. “How did she get free? She couldn’t have stolen a weapon during the skirmish. These men had clubs and staffs, and the ax is still on the ground.”

“Maybe somebody gave her something sharp,” Kellyn says.

“I wouldnever.”

Ignoring the two men, I search under the wagon, looking for a dagger or something else to explain the warlord’s attempted escape.

“Blood runs thick,” Kellyn says.

“I hardly know this woman. She may have borne me, but there is no love between us. You know that. Why would I free the woman who hurt Temra?”

“Shut up, the both of you,” I say as I right myself. I hold out the sharpened metal. “Hair clasp. It was holding her bun in place. She took it out days ago. Must have been waiting for the right time to use it.”

Kellyn won’t meet Petrik’s eyes. “Sorry,” he grumbles.

“When are you going to trust me?” Petrik asks. “I’ve done nothing but help. I may have kept my parentage to myself, but I have never betrayed the Tellions or you.”

“We have bigger problems than your squabbling.” I eye the bridge. “We’re still blocked, and anyone who could have helped us move the trunk is unconscious, dead, or run off. Is there another way around?”

“Yes,” Petrik says, “but it will add a half day’s journey.”

I want to sob. The timing is too close as it is. The healer backin Amanor said we had only a week before Temra would die from her wounds.

The exact time it takes to reach the capital.