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“Three of you with me,” James said to his men, having warned the city guards that someone had followed the party. “The rest of you on watch outside the jeweler’s. Tell Lord Cavendish that he is not to allow either woman to leave the town until I return.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nodding once at those who would remain, James urged Maven into a trot and left through the city gates, his soldiers following.

The air was thick and cloying, and James gave the darkening skies a wary glance before focusing his attention on the forest around them. The weather was turning, and potential assassins aside, it would be wise to remain in Abertford until the storm had passed, even if it meant staying overnight.

They spread out, moving through the trees, searching for motion. For signs of anyone in the woods who shouldn’t be.

Then he saw a horse through the brush, brown hide almost perfectly camouflaged. “There,” he said softly, and his soldiers gave nods as they caught sight of the animal. The young man in the saddle was watching the road, but James marked his red hair. The long knife sheathed at his belt. The fletching of the arrows in the quiver at his back. James had fought these bastards for most of his life, and goddamned if he didn’t know them when he saw them.

Amaridian.

“Try to catch him alive,” James told his soldiers in a low voice. “I’d like to question him.”

The men signaled understanding, spreading out as they approached the Amaridian from behind. The soft earth muffled the horses’ steps, but all the birds and creatures that lived in the trees had fallen silent.

Watching.

They prowled closer, and James carefully unsheathed a knife, not wanting to risk killing the man with a sword.

Closer.

Crack!

At the sound of a branch cracking beneath a horse’s hoof, the Amaridian jerked around, eyes widening in panic as he saw how close they were. He dug in his heels, but James was already moving.

Maven leapt into speed, weaving through the trees in pursuit of the man, who was riding as though his life depended on it. Which, in fairness, it did.

“I don’t think so,” James hissed, leaning over his mare’s neck to avoid being taken off by a branch.

His soldiers rode with equal speed, keeping low, one lifting the bow he carried.

“Shoot the horse!” James shouted, and arrows flew in quick succession, all hitting trees instead of the animal galloping ahead.

They reached the road, but instead of heading down it, the Amaridian plunged into the brush on the far side. Wisely understanding that his survival depended on his cover.

But James and his men had faster mounts.

Out of his periphery, he saw one of his soldiers press ahead, and then abruptly, the man was flying through the air and his mount going down.

“Trap!” James shouted, pulling Maven up.

But it was too late.

Amaridians exploded from where they lay hidden beneath brush, weapons in hand. Arrows flew, striking his other two men, one narrowly missing James’s face.

Too many to fight. Too many by far.

“The queen wants a word with you, bastard,” one of them said, lifting a long sword as he strode toward James.

Boom!

James’s eyes flicked to the sky, to the midnight clouds now blocking out the sun. And whirling his mare around, he galloped toward the storm.