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My father, dead for the Lion, dead for duty to a crown I’ve betrayed.He forced a hiss.A crown that betrayedme, and the realm entire. I’ve done nothing wrong.

I’ve done nothing wrong,he thought again as he dropped through the air. For the first time, he took solace in the words of the whispers.

Burn the life behind you.

The days of Squire Andry Trelland were certainly aflame.

It was his mother’s face he saw when he hit the water, suspended for a moment in cold, endless dark. The current pushed him along and he let it, holding his breath beneath the surface. There was no red heat here, as he’d seen in Taristan back in the hall. No malicious shadow moving behind the black. Only the river, only cool hands pushing him along.

And those damned whispers, which sounded like ice, like winter, solidifying into one voice.

Stand tall and steadfast true.

The darkness comes; your choices grow few.

Andry was a son of Ascal, born and raised in the capital. He knew the canals well, and his skin crawled as they swam. He kept his mouth shut and tried not to think of everything the water carried, from the upriver slums of Doghead to the slaughter yards in the Cowbank. In the dark, he could pretend the river was clean. And in the dark, they were difficult to see, difficult to follow.

The whispers faded, leaving Andry alone in his head. His own voice now pounded in his head.Get out of the palace. Get to the docks.With each breath he thought,Get to the docks.

He kept close to the others, until the Ibalet woman angled toward shore. They hauled themselves out, one by one, dripping wet on the meager bank, a dirty triangle of mud and sand half covered by an overhang of the street above.

Andry clambered quickly to his feet, as did Corayne. She patted the belts of the Spindleblade, checking the sword as she shook the hair from her eyes. It was still there, safe in its sheath.

“Get up or get hidden,” the woman hissed, glaring at Dom still sprawled on the ground. Her gaze burned like two candles. “I doubt even three of us could drag a log like you out of here.”

Dom groaned, too weak to respond, but rolled his knees, one hand braced against the wound. It seemed to be bleeding less, despite all the exertion of swimming.

Andry shot to his side, slipping a hand under the Elder’s arm.

“Push through your feet, my lord,” the squire whispered, the immortal heavy in his grasp. He was almost as heavy as a knight in armor. “Lean on me.”

“Me too,” Corayne chirped, taking his other arm. She nearly buckled under his weight.

“Thank you,” Dom murmured, sounding surprised, his pale cheeks flushing pink. By their aid or his own weakness, Andry couldn’t say.Probably both.“Good that my cousin isn’t here; she’d never let me hear the end of it.”

“I’ll be sure to mention it if I ever meet her,” Corayne said, grinning through the strain.

Meanwhile, the Ibalet woman pulled off the rest of her torn dress, revealing a wet shift and leggings beneath. Her silhouette was smaller but not slight, every muscle well formed and taut, like a piece of rope wound up on itself. More tattoos showed at her collar and wrists, where her bronze skin was exposed to the air. Andry glimpsed a bird’s wing and some Ibalet writing in curling script, a constellation, and a dagger like a half moon, before his stomach twisted and he had to avert his eyes.

“Apologies, my lady,” he gritted out, looking at the wet ground.

The Ibalet scoffed out a laugh. “Never seen a woman’s body before, Squire?” She sounded amused. “I think it’s a bit late to be thinking of your honor.”

His face went hot, cheeks flaming. “If I must betray the kingdom to save her, I will do so,” he mumbled.There is no going back, even if I wanted to. No way but forward.

Upriver, lights blazed, the streets swimming with torches as search parties set out from the New Palace. Andry pictured the cathedral, the knights of the garrison standing at the broken windows, staring into the black abyss of the canal.The predators to our prey.

Dom followed Andry’s gaze. “They’ll be after us soon,”

“They’re after us now,” the Ibalet spat, ascending the bank with catlike focus. She wore a cowl now, hiding her face with repurposed scraps of her gown.

The squire swallowed hard and tried to think around the chaos in his head. They hobbled slowly up the slope, following the assassin.

“The garrison will fan out,” Andry said, eyeing the street.Get out. Get to the docks.“They’ll link up with the city watch, the other barracks—Queen Erida has an army in this city.” He pointed with his free hand, gesturing along the canal as they reached the top. “We’re across the waters; there are no more canals or islands. If you move fast enough, you might outrun anyone they’ve sent to the outer gates.” The city spiraled around him, a cobweb of streets and bridges. “You can get out of the city before they lock it up tighter than a rat trap. Keep straight on until you hit the walls. Conqueror’s Gate is the biggest, with more traffic, but Godherda has fewer guards. At least it should right now”

Corayne glared around Dom’s body, her lips pursed into a grim line like the slash of a dagger. “Wecan get out of the city,” she said sharply. “Or do you have some other plans I don’t know about, Trelland?”

Andry felt a muscle jump in his cheek. He swallowed hard and gently stepped away from Dom, careful not to upset his shaky balance. “Just head north,” he said, his voice firm.