Cyrene was reconsidering her part in this whole scheme. Waiting was not her specialty, and she had been waiting an awfully long time for her part in the plan to rescue Ahlvie and Maelia in Strat.

As soon as Cyrene and Avoca had completed the Bound ceremony, Queen Shira had permitted them to leave Eldora. Avoca and Cyrene had gotten as many supplies together as possible and had been working out a plan when Ceis’f butted in. Despite their best efforts, he had insisted on coming with them, and the Queen had agreed that it wasn’t a bad idea.

Cyrene had left Avoca alone with him then to saddle up her prized dapple, Ceffy, and retrieved the Book of the Doma from the Queen.

The Queen had handed back the tome with a sad smile. “When your mission is complete, I implore you to return to me. I’m one of the few creatures still alive that remembers things that can be of use to you. I will help how I can.”

“Thank you,” she’d replied.

And then they had been off.

Their plan was simple. Avoca would create a diversion, using the Byern and Aurum guards as bait, and then Ceis’f would give a signal to Cyrene to steal the keys from the prison and break her friends out.

Simple.

Except nothing was going as planned.

No diversion had happened. No signal from Ceis’f. If they didn’t do it quickly, Cyrene would never make it to the jail for the shift change.

Cyrene frowned. Ceis’f was supposed to have given the signal. The guards would be changing without him there to distract them as she walked by. She needed an escort, or everything would fall apart, and she would end up in prison for being without one. Stupid backward Aurumian customs.

The second watch approached the prison door. She looked furtively around for Ceis’f, but he wasn’t there.

The guards laughed to each other, and as Ceis’f had said, a set of keys passed from one man to the other before they departed. He’d said another set of keys was inside the prison. Though how he had determined that, she didn’t know.

As always, Cyrene would have to rely on herself. She couldn’t wait here and let her chance pass.

A steady stream of people moved in front of her, and she casually joined them. Cyrene kept her steps timid and controlled as her hands shook.

As she reached the guard on duty, she took a deep breath and then purposely tripped over her own feet. She went sprawling to the ground and cried out as her knee jerked underneath her. One hand grabbed for her hood to keep it in place and the other scuffed the boot of the man standing guard.

“I apologize. So sorry,” she murmured under her breath. She coughed and tried to stand with difficulty.

Several people stopped to ogle her fall.

The guard stooped low and roughly grasped her by the arm. “Get up, peasant. Where is your husband?”

Cyrene cast her eyes down and hid under her deep hood, thankful for the itchy, disgusting thing. “I-I must have lo-lost him in the crowd,” she stammered.

“Lost him in the crowd, eh? Or left him behind at home?” the guard growled. He eyed the state of her cloak with distaste but thankfully didn’t see the good sturdy dress underneath the tatters. People saw what they wanted to see.

“He was ri-right…right here,” she warbled.

“I’ve heard that story before. I’ll get another soldier over here to take you to the square.”

Cyrene crushed herself against the soldier and wailed. “No. No. Please. He was right here. Please don’t take me to the square.” She was nearly as frantic as she was acting. She could not go to the square. She would certainly be recognized.

Then, the distinctive sounds of fighting rang out from the direction of the square. Finally, a sign.

“What in the bloody Creator’s name is going on?” the guard who was still holding her arm cried out.

Four Aurumian guardsmen rounded the corner.

One cried out, “All able-bodied soldiers to a defensive position in the square. Now.”

When he was distracted, Cyrene slid her hand through the loop on his belt, plucked the keys to the jail right out from under his nose, and added them to her pouch at her waist.

“Moor, stand guard while I take this girl to the square and find out what all the commotion is about,” the guard snapped at a man standing inside the doorway.

The man knuckled a salute and took up the place at the door.

Cyrene was visibly shaking at this point. She had the keys to the prison, but it would do her no good if she became a prisoner herself and had the keys confiscated.

As the guard tried to drag her toward the square, a hand grasped on to her, bringing the guard up short.

“There you are, darling,” a man said. “I thought you were with me the whole time. You gave me quite a fright.”

“And who are you?” the guard asked. He puffed his chest out.

Cyrene didn’t dare look up at her savior. The man had a smooth voice but with an edge to it that made him sound superior.

“Her husband,” the man answered in a mockingly self-righteous tone.

The guard huffed in disbelief. “Keep better control of your wife.” Then, he tossed Cyrene away from him in a hurry.

Her pretend husband swiftly guided her away from the man.

Cyrene sneaked a peek up at the man and gasped outright. “Orden!”

“Shh,” he said. “Keep your head down and your hood up. You shouldn’t even be in the city. Your face is in every inn and pub. The last thing we want is to have come all this way for nothing.”

He abruptly pushed her through an open doorway. They were standing in a small merchant’s storage room.

“How did you find me?” Cyrene asked.

“Everyone has been expecting you to show your face since the other two were brought in. You shouldn’t have come alone.”

“I didn’t. I have two companions helping me. I trust them, Orden, but there is no time to explain,” Cyrene told him. She produced the keys to the prison. “I collected these.”

“Girl,” Orden said with a soft shake of his head, “you have some unfounded plans for someone so young.”

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Orden asked Cyrene for the third time.

She didn’t have time to keep explaining this to him. They needed to be in and out of that prison and then down to the dock as soon as possible. They couldn’t delay another minute.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she replied impatiently.

Orden nodded. He would do as she’d asked because he had asked to come along for this adventure, but he didn’t like it. She could tell that for sure. But he hadn’t come up with an alternative that she could agree on, so they were going ahead with her plan.

Cyrene pulled her hood up to hide her face from view before following Orden out onto the busy street. He walked with an exaggerated gait that seemed to take up the road. People hurried out of his way even though he wasn’t wearing anything that showed he was distinguished.

She allowed him to lead the way back to the prison and focused instead on listening to the bustle around them. Clearly, something had happened in the square. Perhaps it was what had kept Ceis’f from getting to her in time. Though she suspected he had ditched her at the first chance.

Cyrene caught only parts of hurried conversations as they passed, but they were enough to raise her interest.

“A Byern noble in the square…”

“A guard assaulted the General…”

“The merchant was thrown to the ground. He was killed…”

“Bloody prisoners were taken away and transferred to the inn from a bloody royal command. He thinks he has authority here…”

Her head popped up, and she stared at two Aurumian soldiers walking away from the square.

“Orden”—she tugged on his cloak—“ask them about the prisoners.”

But Orden was a step ahead of her, already turning in their direction. “Good sirs,” he said, offering them a stiff, short bow, “did you say the prisoners were relocated to an inn? All of your hard work, and they’ve already been transported. Did you find the woman you were looking for?”

The soldiers looked back and forth between each other. Their expressions gave away that they were trying to place Orden but drawing a blank.

“Speak quick, soldier. I’m on my way to speak with General Wingra at present, and I need some answers.” Orden was over a handbreadth taller than both men, and without his oversize floppy hat, he even appeared dignified.

Mention of the General got their tongues wagging.

“Yes, sir. The prisoners were relocated to the Huntress and Eagle Inn and put in custody of a Byern royal. I’ve not heard about the other girl.”

Orden tossed each man a silver coin from his purse, and they disappeared without another word.

“Good lads there,” Orden said, shaking his head. “To the inn then?”

She followed him without complaint. Thankfully, they had gotten the information they needed and avoided a blunder in the prison.

With Orden at the lead, they took a strategic path around the square to the Huntress and Eagle Inn. Cyrene could just see out of the corner of her eye that the square was a mess of soldiers and citizens brawling in the center. Tensions seemed to have come to a peak between Byern and Aurum. It was pandemonium.

They slipped through the front doors without being harassed, and Cyrene was shocked to see the disarray inside. The common room was as bad as the fight outside. A man was in the thick of it, swinging at another man in front of him and yelling insults. The crowd was growing, drawing in more people from outside. It was likely how she and Orden had slipped inside so easily.

With a start, she realized that the instigator in the fight was…Ceis’f.

“Creator!” Cyrene cried.

He must have found out that Maelia and Ahlvie had been transferred here.

Orden nudged her toward the now abandoned stairs leading up to the rooms. She and Orden hurried up the steps.

“We should split up,” Cyrene said. “We’ll cover more ground. You take the next flight.”

“I can’t leave you here alone. If you get caught, it’ll be your neck.”

Cyrene opened her mouth to argue, but he just bullied his way past her and down the hall.

“All right,” she grumbled.

They checked the first three rooms but to no avail. They were completely empty. As they were moving toward the next room, she heard steps from the far stairwell. She and Orden hurried into the room, but she left the door cracked open and peeked out into the hallway. Her heart beat heavily in her throat as she waited.

Two figures appeared at the base of the staircase. “Come on, Affiliate.”

Cyrene’s eyes widened, and her stomach dropped clear out of her body.

Kael Dremylon.

By the Creator! What is Kael Dremylon doing in Strat? And why is Maelia with him?

Cyrene had thought that the townspeople were exaggerating by calling a Byern noble a royal. But it actually was the Crown Prince. Her heart fluttered as she got a good look at him for the first time. He had roguish good looks with dark hair and blue-gray eyes that held only mischief. Blood coated the sleeve of his white shirt, and he seemed to be favoring his right arm.

“If she doesn’t turn up,” he said, looking at Maelia, “then I’ll have to take you with me to the Aurum capital. We can let this…” Kael’s voice trailed off as he escorted Maelia into a room and shut the door.

Cyrene’s hands shook but with fear or anger, she wasn’t sure.

Kael wants to take Maelia all the way to the capital of Aurum? No, I need to take Maelia with me. This is not a part of my plan!

“We have to get her out of there,” Cyrene said.

Orden grabbed her arm before she could do anything rash.

“You can’t just barge in there. If the Prince gets one look at you, there will be hundreds of guards on our heads before we can get ten paces away from this inn. Do you want to jeopardize everyone?”

“I can’t leave her behind,” she insisted.

“She would want you to be safe before compromising everyone.”

Cyrene furrowed her brows, and Orden released his hold on her with a sigh.

“Didn’t you hear what he said? If you don’t show up, then he’s taking her to Aurum. Let’s get Ahlvie and then come back for her. At least we have the advantage of knowing where she’s headed if we can’t get her out.”

Cyrene nodded. She didn’t like this, not one bit, but the last thing she wanted was to barge in on Kael Dremylon and ruin everything.

Orden hurried back out into the empty hallway. They were halfway up the third flight of stairs when they heard a series of loud thumps. Cyrene met Orden’s eyes, and they rushed up the last few stairs to find four guards crumpled on the ground. Avoca was standing over them in a plum cloak with gold stitching. Her blonde hair fell loose over one shoulder, and she looked both beautiful and deadly.

Ahlvie stood behind her with his eyes nearly popping out of his face. Then, his expression softened into something just short of adoration. A second later, he noticed Cyrene standing on the threshold and broke out into a smile. “You’re alive!”

“I’m all for the heartfelt reunions,” Avoca said, “but this place is crawling with soldiers. I suggest we make a hasty exit.”

“I have to agree with the woman,” Orden said.

“What about Maelia?” Cyrene asked. She looked back down the stairs with regret. The sounds of feet stomping up the stairs behind her made her jump forward. “Guards.”

“Another day for Maelia,” Orden advised.

“Yes, I think so,” Avoca agreed.

“This way,” Orden said.

They hurried after Orden, who revealed a side staircase as a group of guards appeared on the landing. She heard shouting behind her, but she didn’t stop to ask questions.

A minute later, they landed in the kitchen, which was bustling with people. She could hear the guards coming down the stairs after them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” a large woman in a cook’s dress asked.

“Just passing through, my lady,” Orden said. He dropped a gold piece into her hand, and then as the rest of the group ran past, he dropped two more into her palm.

They had made it out onto the street when Cyrene heard the greedy woman giving the soldiers instructions on where they had gone. Their group rounded a corner away from the square and took off at a dead sprint.

“Avoca and Ahlvie, go east. Orden and I will head west. We’ll loop back around and meet you at the docks. We’ll have a better chance if we are separated,” Cyrene instructed through breathless pants.

Avoca nodded without question, taking instructions like a soldier, and disappeared behind the next bend with Ahlvie. Cyrene and Orden went the opposite direction at the next fork.

After another minute of jogging, Orden put his hand on her shoulder. “Try to act natural. We need to blend in.”

Despite her shaking hands and rapidly rising chest, she slowed her steps and tried to follow Orden’s lead. She had given him directions to the boat earlier in case they were separated.

Now, they just had to get there.