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R ufe shivered, blowing on his fingers in a futile attempt to restore feeling.

Oh, to be inside the modest house they surveilled instead of outside, smoke from the chimney taunting him with the possibility of comfort within.

At least his padded leather travel armor added some warmth, though he’d left his cloak behind with Princess to free his sword arm.

The one-story stone and wood dwelling appeared totally unremarkable save for the noticeable guards—mercenaries, by their unkempt, ill-equipped look. This wasn’t Whreyn’s estate, so the men weren’t his trained forces but lackeys he’d involved in his plot.

Draylon, Rufe, and Niam lay on their stomachs on a ridge overlooking the grounds, their presence hidden by thick undergrowth.

If not for several layers of clothing, Rufe would have a frozen cock in his trousers.

The wind bit the exposed skin of his face.

Long icicles trailed from a ridge nearby, slowly dripping water onto a frozen stream below, where the droplets promptly refroze in fascinating shapes.

The rumors about spring approaching must be wrong.

Two men in front of the house spoke animatedly, waving their hands as they argued. Rufe couldn’t make out the words .

Niam stiffened.

Rufe sidled closer. “What is it?”

“They’re speaking Craician.”

Craicians. Rufe pulled in a deep breath. That was long ago, and the ones who hurt you are dead.

According to the new treaty, Delletinians conspiring with Craicians meant treason, adding one more offense to Whreyn’s tally.

Either by legal means or the sword, the asshole was living on borrowed time.

Rufe wanted to do the honor of escorting the poor excuse for a man to the afterlife for the Unnamed Goddess to deal with.

Two more guards strode a circuit around the grounds, a little better dressed, with the bearing of trained soldiers, though whether Craician or Delletinian remained to be seen.

Organized Craician forces were the last thing they wanted.

Cormira’s last spy hadn’t reported back in two seasons, meaning no information on the enemy's current fighting capabilities. Craice wasn’t large but boasted a dense population.

Still, their military couldn’t hope to match Cormira’s, composed of the best fighters from five kingdoms.

Draylon motioned with two fingers. Rufe nodded.

He and Draylon crept toward the back of the building.

Four guards stood outside. If intelligence proved true, Lady Exa and Niam’s two sons were inside, with possibly another guard or two.

The boys were too young to have received anything beyond rudimentary training.

Although Yarif vouched for the ferocity and skill of Lady Exa, they’d have to depend on the dozen soldiers they’d brought with them, some of whom had already captured the horses housed in the barn, making a retreat difficult for the enemy.

Rufe rose to his haunches, staying low, creeping behind bushes.

The blood sang in his veins. How long since he’d faced an enemy with the threat of brutal combat?

Illa’s survivors notwithstanding. He’d been made for this since the moment he’d defeated three older recruits for the honor of facing Prince Draylon in training as a stripling lad.

He exchanged his sword for a dagger, counting the footsteps of one of the patrols.

The timing had to be right. The muscles in Rufe’s legs jumped as he prepared for action.

Tap, tap, tap came boot heels on hard-packed earth. Their surveillance said the guard would reach the corner of the house, turn, and retrace his steps.

The moment the footsteps stopped, Rufe sprung, slapping a hand over the sentry’s mouth while securing his blade against the man’s throat. He spoke a few words of Craician but tried Delletinian instead. “You move, you die.”

The man nodded.

“Are there two boys and a woman inside?” Rufe kept his voice to a low growl.

Again, the man nodded.

“Are you loyal to Lord Whreyn?”

Rufe felt the “who” forming on the man’s lips beneath his palm. Right. A mere sentry wouldn’t deal directly with Whreyn.

“Are you loyal to King Niam?”

The man tensed, then shook his head. Either he lied to preserve his life, not knowing who held him, or he told the truth. The man threw back an elbow aimed at Rufe’s stomach, making the decision easy. Rufe slit his throat, letting the man’s body fall to the ground.

One down. Steady footsteps announced Draylon’s approach. He glared down at the dead guard. “I got two,” he said matter-of-factly.

“This isn’t a competition,” Rufe snarled. Gods, he hated traitors—hated Whreyn.

“We have a few more. I’ll let you take first pick.”

None of the remaining guards professed allegiance to Niam, and none offered helpful information. They died where they stood.

Rufe approached the door, listening for voices from within. Nothing. If those assholes lied, he’d pray them back from the dead just to kill them all over again—slower this time.

Footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, back and forth, back and forth.

Someone pacing. Boards over the windows on this side of the house prevented Rufe from seeing in.

Draylon lifted a hand, palm out, signaling Rufe to wait, then disappeared around the corner.

Rufe slowly, silently, eased the locking bar out of the sturdy metal hasps securing it in place.

He wanted to rush in, but only fools changed plans without notice.

Not long now. Not long. Behind him, under the cover of the nearest shed, Niam no doubt found the delay even harder to bear.

Rufe waited, dagger in hand.

Crash !

The footsteps pounded away from the door, likely a guard checking out the noise. Rufe exchanged dagger for sword and threw open the door.

The boys huddled on the floor. Niam stormed in.

“Father!” Quillan charged Niam’s way, pulling Uri by the hand.

Uri’s eyes widened for a moment before he wrapped his arms around Niam’s thigh.

“Come. We’ll get you out of here.” Rufe scanned the room. No one else. Niam should’ve stayed put, but couldn’t be faulted for wanting to be with his sons.

“What about Lady Exa?” Quillan asked.

A woman burst into the room, brandishing a sword—a bloody sword—nearly as tall as herself.

“That’s one Craician bas—” Upon seeing the boys, she changed to “—barbarian who’ll never see the light of another dawn.

” A long brown braid hung down her back.

She wore trousers, boots, and a blousy man’s shirt.

This must be Draylon’s formidable Countess Exa.

“Report!” Draylon demanded, charging in through the doorway behind Exa.

Rufe opened his mouth, but Countess Exa answered, “Two inside the house, six outside that I saw. You got one in here. I took care of the other. How are we outside?”

“Five accounted for. It seems one may have escaped. Were all Craician?”

“Only three.” Exa smirked, sending cold chills down Rufe’s spine. He’d never met Countess Exa, but Yarif swore by her in a fight. “They didn’t know I’m fluent in Craician and clearly hated the man who hired them. They gave me useful information.”

Draylon motioned toward the front door. “No time now. Let’s get you out of here.”

“I won’t argue there.” Exa’s voice softened. “Boys? Are you all right?”

“Yes, Lady Exa,” the boys said in unison.

Niam extricated himself from his sons’ embrace. “Let’s go home, but stay close to me or Rufe.” He nodded to Draylon. “This is Draylon. He’ll watch out for you, too.”

Revealing Draylon’s royal status would provide Whreyn’s followers with another target.

The boys nodded solemnly.

Rufe turned to the stranger who’d been so good to his family, regardless of not knowing them. “Lady Exa, I extend my deepest gratitude to you for risking yourself for Niam and the boys, and I’m glad you’re unhurt.”

Lady Exa’s raspy voice wasn’t what Rufe expected from such a delicate-looking woman who only reached his shoulder. “No one gets away with harming children on my watch. I’ll keep them with me. You go do what you must.”

Rufe nodded and exited the house, though his heart wanted him to stay with Niam and the boys. How close he’d come to losing them. He trod down the steps, where Casseign waited with several of their soldiers, two captives in their midst: a scrappy young man and a rawboned woman, neither in uniform .

“Who are you?” Rufe asked the woman in Delletinian. She spat at his feet. He turned to the man. “Perhaps you’re more cooperative.” The man didn’t reply.

Casseign tried again in broken Craician. The woman still scowled, but the man showed enough interest to express his understanding. Craician. Or affiliated. At least the man.

Cass stepped toward Rufe. “From what we’ve pieced together, these two, along with several others, found work at the manor house, killed the owners, and took possession. When first questioned, the man showed recognition when I mentioned Lord Whreyn to one of my men.”

The woman’s savage expression softened at the name. Interesting. Rufe said, “Bring them with us to the capital. Leave several of your best soldiers in the woods here to watch the place. I want to know if anyone approaches.”

“Yes, your….” Casseign bowed, arm over his chest as Cormiran soldiers did.

“Rufe will do.” He could’ve hit himself.

Assuming control of the soldiers would only tip his hand as to who he really was.

Better for most Delletinians to think of him as an ambassador, and not a commander of the Cormiran forces, come to spy and gain a tactical advantage.

Rumors no doubt abounded, but he’d stick with his given role as much as possible.

He added, “Captain.” At least none of Cass’s subordinates were close enough to have heard the exchange. Only the prisoners. The less they knew of him, the better .

Rufe returned to Draylon and Niam, standing close enough to have heard everything. “We head for the capital. Niam, do you know safer, less traveled routes?”

Niam nodded. “Lady Exa, will you be joining us.?”

Exa inclined her head. “Yes, Your Majesty, for the time being. You need all your loyal soldiers with you. I’ll not take any for an escort and return to my home later with King Draylon if he’s amenable.”

“I am,” Draylon replied. “As soon as we’ve quelled the uprising.”

Exa grinned, showing even, white teeth. “I haven’t had this much excitement in ages.”

Rufe clapped his hands together. “It’s settled then.

The sun will soon set. We’ll stay here, rest, eat, and leave at daybreak.

” He shared a long look with his husband.

“Stay with your sons. Comfort them. I need to speak with Draylon and Cass.” He caught Willem peering out from behind a soldier’s back.

He’d heard everything. A tendril of dread slithered through Rufe’s insides.