Mouths open, Aidan and his brothers watched the legion of fighters marching toward them from the beach.

“Did you call them here?” he asked the witch closest to him.

“We did not.”

“Find the Riders!” he barked at Uther and Caswyn before running into the temple and toward the back.

* * *

The blade sliced into her arm. The blood began to drip down her skin.

Bending her elbow, Brannie swiped her wounded arm against her attacker’s face, temporarily blinding him with her blood.

With her other arm, she rammed her blade into his belly, and shoved him away with her shoulder.

Someone ran up behind her and she turned at the waist and took his head.

“Branwen!” Aidan came sliding out the back door. “Soldiers. Lots of them.”

Brannie stepped over the bodies of those she’d just killed and, finally managing to get her chain mail shirt on, she called out to one of the witches pummeling an assassin, “Where’s my cousin?”

“With Meihui.” She pointed to the other side of the building.

With a grateful nod, Brannie grabbed her travel bag and ran, slinging the strap over her shoulders as she did, Aidan right behind her.

They’d just cleared the other side of the building when a black horse charged past them. The only reason Brannie didn’t get run down was that Aidan grabbed her by her chain mail shirt and yanked her back.

“Keita!” Brannie yelled. But her cousin was charging off into the woods.

“Here.” Meihui arrived with another horse for her, with Kachka right behind her. “Go.”

Brannie turned to Aidan.

“Go,” he said.

“But—”

“We’ll keep them off your back. Go. Now.”

Brannie didn’t have time for grand good-byes. She just had to keep moving.

Grabbing the reins of the white-and-brown horse, she mounted him, and took off after her cousin.

* * *

Aidan faced Meihui. “We have to—”

He jerked back but it was Meihui’s quick reflexes that saved Aidan from the black-clothed attacker who’d snuck up behind them.

She blocked his strike with her forearm, and one of her sisters snatched the weapon from his hand while the others stabbed at him with their seax.

Meihui motioned to a sister who came out the back. She held up the attacker’s weapon. “Find out if there are any others still alive. I’ll be in the front.”

She headed back into the temple. “Watch these,” she said offhandedly, moving quickly, Kachka following them both.

“Watch what?”

“These weapons. The edges have been dipped in poison.”

* * *

Uther cringed watching Zoya taunt the legion that marched toward them.

“Come!” she yelled out. “You want to challenge Zoya? Come challenge Zoya!”

Aidan returned to the front of the temple with Meihui and Kachka.

“What is she doing?” he asked.

Aidan shrugged. “I really don’t know. But she’s been doing it for a while.” He glanced at the others. “Where’s Brannie and Keita?”

“Gone. We need to keep the attackers off their backs until they get some distance between—”

Meihui stepped close to Aidan. “Those are the Empress’s legions.”

“So?”

“A mix of dragons and humans. You’ll be outnumbered and you no longer have Branwen the Awful clearing the way for you.”

“Suggestions?”

“Act like they’re welcome. Like you were just attacked and they’re saving you.”

“We were just attacked.”

“Act like you were just attacked by someone other than those sent by the Empress.”

“Are you so sure they were sent by the Empress?”

Meihui smiled. “No, but the way Keita went running for a horse as soon as she checked one . . .”

“What about Keita?” Uther asked. Their queen had asked them to protect her. As far as he was concerned, they had just failed.

Aidan nodded at Meihui and she went to her sisters to organize them before the Empress’s army arrived right at her door.

“Keita left on purpose, but she’s got Brannie with her,” Aidan told Uther.

“So we’re just going to let them go?”

“We have no choice. All we can do now is keep playing the game and hope Keita has a plan.”

Caswyn snorted. “If Keita’s anything like her mother . . . she’ll always have a plan.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

They rode hard throughout the day, stopping only a few minutes at a time by streams and lakes so that their horses could get a break.

By the time the suns were beginning to go down, they’d arrived at a large, dark forest. And that’s where Keita stopped.

Brannie dismounted her horse and rested against it. “What are we doing here?”

Keita also dismounted. “We’re going in.”

“Why?”

“Because I said—what’s wrong with you?” Keita abruptly asked.

“I’m exhausted.”

“That’s what you get for fucking all night.”

“He was there and I had needs.”

“Liar,” Keita accused, grabbing her horse’s reins. “You like him.”

“He’s me friend. Of course I like him.”

“‘He’s me friend,’” Keita mocked.

“Don’t make me slap you.” Brannie followed her into the forest. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“Can’t you just trust me to know what I’m doing?”

“No.”

“Cow.”

“Do you even know where we are?”

“Stop snapping at me because you’re worried about Aidan.”

“I am not!”

“Such a liar. And a bad one at that!”

They walked on in the growing darkness, neither speaking, until Brannie realized she heard no birds in the trees. No sounds of animals scuttling away.

Branwen stopped, blew out a quick burst of air through her teeth. Keita froze, her gaze moving.

Stroking her horse’s neck to keep him calm, Brannie also looked for signs of what was in these woods. It was the scent she recognized first. Human men.

She was reaching for her weapon, tucked innocuously into her boot, when the sword pressed against her throat.

Shocked, Keita gawked at Brannie. Not that she blamed her cousin for being so surprised. Brannie couldn’t remember the last time she’d let a gods-damned human sneak up on her.

To protect her cousin, Brannie was about to make a move anyway, but somehow she ended up facedown on the ground, vomiting and praying for sweet death.

* * *

“Branwen!”

Keita yanked herself away from the Eastland Rider who gripped her arm and ran to her cousin’s side. She turned her over.

“Fuck,” she growled, grabbing the hem of her dress and tearing off a bit to quickly clean Brannie’s face.

She leaned in close, lifted her cousin’s eyelids, opened her mouth, checked her nostrils.

Keita was just checking her fingers when she noticed there was blood on her wrist. She pulled up her chain mail shirt, tugging out her arm until she found the wound.

She sniffed, recognized the scent, but refused to panic. If she panicked, Brannie would die.

Looking around, Keita stood. One of the men stepped toward her but she pointed at a smarter-looking fellow and ordered, “I need the pallavi root. Now. Find it.”

“Uhhh . . .”

“Was I unclear? Move!”

Startled into action, the man began to search the ground for what she needed. She also grabbed some other ingredients and began to shred and tear until the man handed her a small root.

She used her thumbnail to shred several pieces off, and mixed it with the other materials in the palm of her hand.

Snapping her fingers, Keita ordered, “Ale. Now.”

Someone handed her a canteen of ale and she added several drops to the mix in her hand. She cupped her hands and brought them close to her mouth. She used a bit of her flame to activate her little poultice. Done, she spread the concoction on Brannie’s wound and then placed a small bit under her cousin’s tongue.