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Across the barn, Sparrow blinked herself awake. She stretched in slow, deliberate movements, brushing straw from her sleeves. Her eyes moved toward the bundled shape beside her. Eszter hadn’t stirred, her slight form still curled against Sparrow’s coat like a kitten in hiding.
She turned to Egret, her eyes finding his hand, her head shaking immediately. “Get the antiseptic and gauze.”
“Condor needs—”
“That wasn’t a request,” she said in the whip-crack tone only a mother could wield.
Egret’s head bowed as he turned and obeyed.
“She’s still out?” Will asked, nodding toward the girl.
Sparrow nodded. “Didn’t move all night.”
“She needed it,” Will said. “We all did.”
I turned to look. Farkas was slumped on the opposite side of the barn, partially covered by a rough wool blanket. One hand rested near the strange box he’d insisted on carrying since the night we fled. His face was slack in sleep, the lines of worry and genius smoothed by exhaustion.
Sparrow rose to her feet and padded over, careful not to wake either of them. She leaned down, adjusted Eszter’s collar, and smoothed her curls back from her cheek.
“She looks younger when she sleeps,” she murmured.
“She looks like the child she’s supposed to be,” I said.
A long silence followed, one of those heavy ones that hung between spies when no one wanted to name the thing sitting in the middle of the room.
We were all thinking it.
They were safe—for now, but they would be back in the soup before long.
We weren’t done yet.
Will rubbed his hands together for warmth, then spoke in a low voice. “We’ll move tonight. I scouted a path with Egret. There’s a clearing beyond the orchard line. It’s an old livestock trail, mostly overgrown.”
“How far to the river?” Sparrow asked.
“Less than ten kilometers if we follow it straight.”
“Assuming there’s no one waiting,” Egret added. He stood, rolling his shoulder with a grimace. “And assuming the girl can make the distance.”
I looked down at my bandaged shoulder, felt the pull and heat beneath the dressing, and said nothing, only thought that Eszter wasn’t the one he should be worried about.
Will and Sparrow pulled a handful of rations stuffed in our packs and handed them out. We had just enough to get across the border, assuming everything went according to plan. We were nearly out of water, though, and neither Will nor Egret had said anything about finding more. We’d have to remedy that.
Will’s feet shuffling across the floor brought my head up. There was something in his eyes, in the way he avoided my gaze. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something wasn’t right. He might’ve simply been worried about me, about my shoulder, but the look in his eyes was something more, something deeper. When they flicked to me, I saw . . . regret? What did he have to regret? Did he blame himself for me getting shot? That was ridiculous.
“Come sit next to me,” I said, suddenly needing to feel him near.
He sat and handed me a piece of tough dried meat.
“You okay?” I whispered.
He didn’t look at me. “Yeah, of course.”
There was a moment’s pause. He still didn’t turn.
“William,” I whispered, so low only he could hear. “Did you forget how I can read your mind?”
He grunted a laugh more filled with awkwardness than humor. “Really now?”