The commander nodded once, and then they were back out in the snow. Cyrene hastened to cover their tracks as they left. They moved down the windy snow-covered roads, past the tall black buildings, and around tight bends. The sun was about to set over the horizon, and she picked up her pace, attempting to match the commander’s speed. He was a beast, carved out of muscle, unyielding.

“Wait,” he said, pushing her backward.

She bent and heaved a sharp breath. There was a stitch in her side. “What is it?”

“Guild.”

She cursed and then peeked around. Guild were stationed on all the corners in this block, and three were at the front door of Aralyn’s home. Cyrene could sense the magic brimming all over the square.

“How did they find us?” she whispered.

He shook his head. “We were patrolling. I found you first. Anyone else could have followed you back to this residence.”

“We need to find out what’s going on.”

“What we need to do is get you as far away from here as possible.”

“My friends are still inside. I won’t leave them behind.”

Just then, the door opened, and Aralyn stepped out into the dark night. Her chin was held high, and to her credit, she didn’t look as afraid as Cyrene was sure she felt.

“Can I help you?” she asked loud and clear.

“Apologies for the inconvenience, Lady Berg,” the man at the door said just as loud, “but we have news that you’re harboring fugitives.”

“Fugitives? That’s absurd!”

“So, you never took in a group of foreigners?”

“Well, of course I did, as any good Kelltic woman would.”

The man bristled at her tone. “Then, you wouldn’t mind if we escorted them to the gallows?”

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” Aralyn spat, “if they were still here. I turned them out before I ever even knew there were fugitives in the city.”

“Indeed,” the man said with venom in his voice. “Search the place.”

Without warning, the other two people with the man barreled past Aralyn and into the house. Cyrene watched with fear. She wanted to go to Aralyn, to apologize for the position that she’d put her in. The lies she had to tell. But there was nothing she could do for her sister at this point. Interfering would only harm both of them.

“They’re going to tear their home apart. You could have chosen more wisely. The Bergs won’t stand for this in assembly. They’re extremely powerful.”

“Perhaps I should have chosen more wisely,” she agreed with a sigh. “If you were sending three people on horseback out of the city in a hurry, which direction would you go from here?”

He shook his head and then considered. “This way.”

She took one last deep breath. “Wait.”

She grabbed on to his arm, and he only flinched this time.

“What is it?”

“I need you to promise to look after Lady Berg and her family when I leave this place.”

“Didn’t you just hear me? They’re extremely powerful.”

“Please. Promise that you’ll make sure they come to no harm.”

The commander narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t come to the Bergs’ house by chance, did you?”

She shook her head, letting him in on another secret. “She is my sister.”

“That sort of information is very valuable. You must trust me if you trust me with your sister.”

“I put her in this position. If you can, will you help her out of it?”

“If I can. I swear it on my name.”

“And that is?” she asked coyly.

“Not something you’ve earned yet.”

Cyrene choked on a laugh. Of course not.

He directed her away from Aralyn’s house, and as they turned the corner, they came face-to-face with a Guild member. She was no older than Cyrene and dressed in black from head to toe, but her hair was silver, nearly to her waist, unbound and breathtaking.

“Commander,” she said, her voice low and threatening.

“Haeven,” he acknowledged.

Cyrene was surprised he had used her name if names were that important to them. Maybe it wasn’t her real name, like Commander wasn’t his real name.

“What I see is treason,” she said, pointing a wicked blade at his feet.

“Maybe you don’t see anything at all.”

“You might have picked me up out of the death camp in the mountains, Commander, but I swore fealty to the Guild. Not you.”

“If anyone understands what we need here, Haeven, it’s you. They tortured you nearly to death to release your energy. What if there was another way?”

She gritted her teeth, and Cyrene could see the feral animal hiding underneath her skin. “If there was another way, wouldn’t we have found it already?”

“Show her,” the commander barked at Cyrene.

Cyrene reached for her magic. She shot a perfectly executed blast of wind at her wrist, forcing Haeven to drop her sword. Then, she spiraled the snow at Haeven’s feet and up into the air to mirror snow falling all around the girl. She snapped her fingers, and the snow turned into a downpour, soaking her through. She concentrated, knowing this was the tricky part. Then, she created a ball of fire and slowly dragged it out until all three of them were bathed in its warmth. It lasted only a split second before disintegrating. She was still rusty, but it was enough. It would have to be.

“What camp did you come from?” Haeven asked. Her eyes were flat and emotionless. She didn’t seem to be the kind of girl who ever showed her feelings. Wherever she had come from took that from her.

“No camp,” Cyrene told her. “I have two tutors. They taught me the ways of my powers.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Yet you see it before you,” the commander said, his voice lowering. “We are destined for more than this.”

Haeven considered that for a moment. “This will mean civil war in the Guild. Are you prepared for that?”

“Some things have always been inevitable.”

Haeven nodded, as if they had had this conversation. “Should I go collect the others then?”

“The others?” he asked with a note of surprise.

“The others who have been waiting for you, for this moment.”

“Start with their sentinels.”

“Blood will spill in Kell tonight,” she said with a grin.

“May the river run red,” he responded like a benediction.

She darted off past them, not looking back once, as she appeared nearly invisible in the shadows.

“Who is she?” Cyrene asked, slightly terrified and in awe of such a soldier.

“I suppose, now, she’s my second.”

“And before?” she asked as he maneuvered them through the streets.

“She was a mouthy know-it-all, like you.”

“Ah…so you like her?”

The commander cut her a sharp look. “Haeven is…complicated.”

“Why do you use her name?”

“Haeven isn’t her name,” he said, his voice going to that soft, distant place. “It’s where she was found—in the Haeven Mountains—after she slaughtered her way through a Biencan warrior camp.”

Cyrene gasped. “A…warrior camp?”

“Trust me. You don’t want to know.”

She trusted that she didn’t. If that was the kind of creature that had come out of it, then she didn’t want to know what Haeven had had to go through to become that way. Cyrene could only imagine the atrocities.

By the time they weaved around the Guild patrols and through the streets to the three different places that the commander had suggested her friends might have gone, Cyrene was giving up. “Maybe they’re still in the house.”

“I doubt it,” he said.

And that ended the discussion.

Cyrene shook her head and followed him on another route. They ran into a pair of Guild but hastily blended into the shadows as they passed. Cyrene held her breath as the commander’s body enveloped her to keep her hidden.

When they were finally out of sight, the commander shook his head. “Pathetic. They should have seen us if they had been paying attention.”

“Well, let’s hope they’re all like that.”

“They’re not,” he insisted.

A commotion a street over alerted them to trouble, and they dashed toward it. By the time they reached the street, three Guild members lay in a heap in the snow, and the twins smiled down at them in glee. Orden hadn’t even had a chance to remove his sword.

“There you are,” Matilde said.

“About time,” Vera agreed.

“What the bloody hell are you doing with him?” Orden asked.

“Change of plans,” Cyrene said hastily.

“I shouldn’t even be surprised,” Matilde muttered.

Vera shushed Matilde.

Orden actually rolled his eyes. “What crazy idea have you come up with this time, girl?”

“The commander is getting us out of the city. He has a contact where we can meet with Avoca and Ahlvie, but we have to be quick. We’ll be much easier to spot when the sun rises.”

“I must impress on you that being caught by the Guild in this city is a death sentence. You were lucky the first time when you escaped. Pandemonium saved you. Leaving is not just your best option. It’s your only option.”

“Well, let’s get on then,” Matilde said with a sigh.

Cyrene and the commander grabbed horses, and then he took point, making a mad dash through the city. They kept pace with him. Already, people were filing out of their homes and going about their day. The sun was cresting the horizon, and if they weren’t careful, they wouldn’t ever make it out of this blasted city.

The commander pulled up his horse at a ramshackle house on the outskirts of the city. It was dilapidated and barely held up. A wagon with a purple tent hung over it, obscuring the insides. A dozen horses moved around in a gated pen for grazing.

“Have we outpaced them?” Cyrene asked.

“For now,” the commander said, jumping down from his mount. “Their territory reaches this far, but Haeven will occupy them for the time being.”

They tied up the horses and hurried up the shaky stairs as Ahlvie and Avoca burst out of the front door.

“Cyrene!” Avoca said with a gasp, pulling her in for a hug.

“We’re okay,” she assured her.

“And Aralyn?”

Cyrene shook her head. “I couldn’t see her.”

Avoca’s face fell. “I’m so sorry.”

“But, more importantly,” Ahlvie cut in, “wait until you meet your commander’s contact.”

“What does that mean?” Cyrene asked suspiciously.

“Oh, he’s a real treat.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, good sir,” the man said, standing in the doorway to the dilapidated house, looking every inch the enigma he always appeared to her.

“Basille Selby,” she gasped.

“In the flesh.”