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Aric stopped abruptly and turned to survey the road behind us. His tail flicked nervously against my shins.

-It could be couriers,- he said. - This is the main road through the mountains.-

“And couriers usually ride in threes?”

Aric didn’t answer.

-We should keep moving,- he decided after a moment. - If they intend to follow us, there’s nothing we can do about it here.-

I swept an evaluating glance across our surroundings. Around us the land had grown wilder still, sparse fir forests clinging to craggy slopes. Just steps off the road, the terrain became too steep for riding—almost too steep for walking. If we wished to leave the road, our only option was to scramble along on foot. I wasn’t sure Aric could manage such territory, and even if he could we would soon hit the snow line.

Aric was right. There was nothing we could do but ride on.

I turned to face forward again, adjusting my rapier and the knife strapped to my wrist to ensure both were ready to draw.

Aric and I continued in silence. By unspoken agreement he increased his pace, until his flanks began to steam in the frigid air and my legs burned from the effort of gripping his sides. The sun arched towards the horizon, its path barely visible through the haze of clouds. We passed through one town, then another, without stopping. The hours ticked past.

And every time I glanced behind us, the three riders were still there. Never close enough to make out details. Never far enough to let us out of their sight.

“What are they waiting for?” I asked finally, sharp with nerves.

Aric didn’t look back. - I would assume for a more remote area. Most of the villages have a town guard on call. Or maybe for the cover of darkness.-

So we were no longer pretending they might be friendly. My hands were white-knuckled on the pommel. “Should we stop at an inn?”

But I knew the answer even before Aric spoke. - We might not reach the next one before sunset. And… I don’t think we have enough regals left to pay for a private room.-

I winced. Accidentally breaking the bed frame was bad enough. The idea of Aric transforming into a horse in the common room of a lodging house was a hundred times worse. And given the state of our finances, I suspected we didn’t have enough left to cover even a meal. We had badly miscalculated.

I twisted in the saddle to look behind us. The riders, of course, were still there. Hovering like hawks. And we, the rabbits, could only wait for them to descend.

Our pursuers made their move just before dusk, as the sun skimmed the peaks of the mountains. Between one moment and the next, I looked back and they’d suddenly halved the distance.

I shouted to Aric, but he hardly needed the warning. He broke into a gallop at once. I bent low over his neck, the frigid wind stealing tears from my eyes, and gripped the pommel for dear life. I hadn’t the attention to spare for drawing a blade or looking behind us to see if our pursuers were gaining.

Aric was strong, but he was unused to being a horse, and weary from our journey. The drumming sound of our pursuers’ steeds grew from a distant patter like spring rain to the roll of thunder. And then they were surrounding us, mud flying from hooves. One pulled ahead and wheeled his horse across the road, blocking the way. Aric shied, half rearing, and nearly threw me from the saddle. The other two riders crowded in on either side, giving us no room to turn around. We were trapped.

One rider put back her hood. A dark-haired woman, her eyes sharp and hungry. A warning tremor of recognition ran through me: I’d seen her at the inn last night, watching us arrive. Now I knew the reason for her interest, and I didn’t like the answer.

“And where might you and your prize stallion be headed on this cold evening, milady?” She spoke in Gilden, her syllables running together at the edges. A commoner’s accent, unlike the crisp tones of Aric’s court.

My hand dropped to the hilt of my rapier. I’d never fought with it in true combat, only in practice. I sent a prayer to the Virtue of Strength that it wouldn’t feel different enough from the training grounds to make me falter. Fear swelled in my throat, a bitter taste like wine turned sour. Beneath me, Aric was rigid. His panic melded with my own, turning it choking.

I looked back at the woman, swallowing down my fear for both Aric’s sake and my own. “You must have mistaken me for someone else. I’m no noble.”

One of her companions snorted—another woman, this one younger with wheat-blond hair, who’d ridden up on my other side. “The finest stallion I’ve seen this side of the mountains and enough money to spend on the inn’s best room. No, of course you’re not noble.”

I turned my gaze on the blond woman, wishing I could cut her with my eyes. “You heard me right.”

Aric shifted beneath me. I could feel his hesitation, his frustration at not being able to speak. Seas—what if he bolted and threw me? With this new body, he hardly knew what he was doing.

“Enough pleasantries.” The third rider, the one blocking the way, spoke up, his voice a low growl. “Let’s make this quick. Hand over your weapons and get down from your horse.”

I closed my hand on the hilt of my rapier. “I’ll do no such thing.”

Metal scraped and clicked, a sound that froze my hand in place: a pistol being cocked. The dark-haired woman’s hand was steady, the muzzle of her firearm glinting in the setting sun as she pointed it at my face.

“It wasn’t a request.”

My hand tightened on my own weapon. We were at close range; any closer and the pistol would be touching my nose. But I knew Adept-made firearms like the one she carried were notorious for missing their targets, and if she wasted her shot it would take her at least a full minute to reload. If I drew fast enough—

-Bianca. Don’t.- Aric’s warning cut through my calculations. - They’ll kill you.-

I hesitated. Giving up my rapier—and dismounting Aric—also meant giving up any chance at a quick escape. But he was right. Getting myself killed would do nothing to help us.

Reluctantly, I released the hilt of my rapier. The dark-haired woman kept the pistol trained on me as I swung down from Aric’s back. Standing beside him in the road, surrounded by mounted enemies, I suddenly felt terribly small. I wished I could talk to him silently in return. Ask him to think of something clever to get us out of this position. All my training in weaponry and negotiations, and yet I was so utterly helpless against raw violence.

Beside me, Aric’s hooves danced nervously. I didn’t dare reach out to him.

“On your knees, hands in the air,” the dark-haired woman snapped. Her eyes fell on the rapier at my side. “And take that off first. Throw it out of reach. Try anything and I’ll shoot.”

My jaw tight, I unbuckled my sword belt and tossed it to the earth, as close to my reach as I dared. The road’s grit bit into my knees as I knelt. Aric was trembling, quivers running through his flanks. I wanted to hiss at him to run, but I wasn’t the one who could talk without being overheard.

The blond woman and the man dismounted and began to search through our saddlebags with ruthless efficiency. Our possessions splayed out on the road like the innards of a butchered bird: flasks, food, bedding. The man found the purse and shook it over his open palm, cursing when only a few coins jangled out.

The blond woman had found my tonic. She sniffed the half-drunk dose, tasted it, and spat, throwing the bottle to the road. I clenched my fists as the precious fluid poured into the dust, staining it dark.

She turned away from the empty saddlebags, her expression thunderous. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“That’s all,” I said. “There’s nothing more.”

“Don’t lie to me, you leech.” The blond woman strode over to me and, before I could even blink, hit me across the face with ruthless efficiency. I fell forward onto my hands with a muffled cry, my vision sparking with black stars. I had never been struck before, and I hadn’t realized how stunning the pain could be.

-Bianca!- Aric whinnied, lifting onto his rear legs, hooves cleaving the air. The two brigands on foot shouted and fell back.

“Secure the horse, you fools!” the leader snapped. “The stallion is the real prize!”

The man snatched up a length of rope from his own saddle and started towards Aric. I gathered my senses enough to drag in a lungful of air.

“Run!” I cried to him, abandoning caution. “Save yourself!”

Aric pranced in place, dithering. Unwilling, I realized with a jolt, to leave me.

“Go!” I shouted again. “Go, drown you!”

Aric gave me a torn look. Too late. A loop of rope hissed around his neck. Aric shied and screamed. Both brigands on foot threw their weight on the rope until he stopped fighting, shuddering and snorting, his eyes rolling wild.

“Enough of this nonsense,” barked the woman with the pistol. “Search her and let’s be done with it.”

The blond woman spat on the ground, barely missing Aric’s hooves, and released her hold on the rope. She strode over to me and jerked me up by one arm, hard enough that my shoulder screamed in its socket.

I bit down on a gasp of pain, reluctant to give her any satisfaction. The woman ran her hands along my sides, searching for hidden wealth. My focus narrowed to the dagger sheathed at my wrist. If I moved quickly, I was close enough to draw the knife and drive it into her chest.

-Don’t, Bianca.- Aric met my eyes, his pupils dilated with fear. - Please.-

I tasted his panic—sharp with the iron flavor of blood. I was suddenly certain his fear wasn’t for himself.

It should have been. The brigands might think they had a prize stallion now, but when he transformed at sunset, they would kill him, too.

Wait. Sunset. Was it possible…

My gaze moved to the horizon. The sun had descended below the blanket of clouds. Now it rested in the dip between two mountain peaks, its lower edge just shy of touching the earth.

The woman finished her cursory search and turned back to the other two brigands. “Nothing. That’s it.”

“Rotting waste of a day,” cursed the man. “What is she, the poorest noble in Gildenheim?”

I could almost have laughed. It was so far from the truth, and yet painfully close.

But their leader’s next words carved even the thought of laughter out at the root.

“We’re done here, then,” she said. “Cut her throat and leave her for the wyrdwolves.”