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She snorts, and Eammon takes to the air. “I’ll go scout your surroundings.”

He’s gone in the next moment, and I find Madinia pondering the bird as he takes to the sky.

“He’s remarkably helpful,” she says. “Is he the reason you were able to free yourself from those chains?”

There’s a hint of amusement in her voice and I clench my teeth. I was forced to sleep against a tree until Eammon helped me, while Madinia merely had toaskme to free her, and I complied.

When I don’t reply, she lets out a laugh. It’s the first true laugh I’ve heard from her, and the sound makes the world seem brighter, sharper. It’s a warm caress that leaves me wanting more.

Scowling, I nudge Fox into a faster pace.

Madinia

“Multiple regiments.” Eammon calls, circling in tight, uneasy loops above us. “One of them must have traveled through the southern pass.”

Calysian slowly turns his head, meeting my eyes. “Is this a problem for us?”

“Yes.”

We’re heading southwest, through the disputed territory and across Telanthris. A grim reality settles into my bones. Vicana’s soldiers could beat us to the grimoire. A muscle twitches in Calysian’s jaw, and he glances up at Eamonn.

“Suggestions?”

“Slow them down.” Eamonn says, as if the answer is obvious. “But that won’t matter if you can’t survive the smaller regiment waiting to take you by surprise. You’ll reachthatregiment within the hour.”

Calysian goes quiet. He doesn’t look at me, but I know what he’s thinking. By the time he finished killing the soldiers attacking the village this morning, his ward was flickering once more.

And that means his ward is likely to fall at some point against Vicana’s regiment of soldiers—who will wield both their own power…and fae iron.

Unease flickers through me. “The soldier who attacked us made it back to his superior. He told them we were coming this way.”

Calysian reaches into a saddlebag and withdraws his map. When he dismounts, Fox stomps a hoof, but the horse allows him to spread the map on his saddle.

“Show me,” Calysian says, and Eamonn lands next to the map. I guide Hope next to Fox, and one of his ears twitch.

“Don’t even think about it,” I tell the horse, turning my attention to the map. The regiment is perfectly positioned, waiting for us at the northern tip of the lake. If we attempt to avoid it, we’ll be forced to backtrack east along the shoreline, searching for a place to cross the wide river flowing down from the Lacana Mountains.

It would cost us so much time, the regiment that Vicana sent through the mountain pass would easily beat us to the grimoire.

“We have no choice but to face them,” Calysian says, swinging himself into the saddle. “Let’s go.”

Scattered brush has given way to tall, thin trees, branches mushrooming from the top of pale gray trunks. Sunlight filters through the canopy above our heads, shadows stretch long across the ground, and the muffled roar of rushing water grows louder and louder, until all I can hear is a steady crash where river meets lake.

We follow the shoreline, leaving the horses tied loosely so they can escape if needed. Calysian prowls toward the edge of the forest, silent as death, and I follow closely behind, my hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of my sword.

When he stops, I crouch behind him, peering around his shoulder. We’re positioned on a rocky overhang, about five footspans above the lake. The water glitters in the sunlight, and I shuffle back further from the edge. From here, we have a clear view, down the shoreline to the rocky outcrop jutting out along the water.

Kyldare has stationed his regiment behind a boulder cluster. My pulse thunders in my ears, my vision dimming until his face is all I can see.

Calysian goes still. “Why is he here? He’s the Queen’s right hand. He should be with the regiment closest to my grimoire.”

My mouth turns dry as Kyldare stalks back and forth, snarling something to one of his men. The solider glances over his shoulder, and Kyldare buries his hand in the soldier’s leather tunic, pulling him close as he continues his tirade. The soldier stammers something, his gaze darting nervously toward the tree line.

Calysian nudges my shoulder with his. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I escaped him.” My voice is flat, my face oddly numb. “Kyldare wants the grimoire, but heneedsto make me pay. He’s been trying to break me for three years, and now I’m walking free.”

Something feral enters Calysian’s eyes, and his face turns cold.