“Let him go,” Tegan said softly.

When she hugged me, I went into her arms, my eyes smeared with blood and tears. We wept together, and I felt Tegan shaking. She’d hated him so much, then she forgave him, and now this. Though I’d believed him when he said he regretted so many things—and that he’d changed—I never would’ve expected such a sacrifice from him. Until the moment when he decided her life was more precious than his own, I’d have said he was foremost a survivor.

Like me.

But in the end, Stalker chose to be better still.

And I had promises to keep.

Pledge

Company D rallied and carried the day, and there were no more casualties. Remembering Fade’s words about being a strong leader, I pulled myself together and dried my tears. Yet the men had no trouble meeting my gaze, so I guessed they didn’t judge me lacking because I’d grieved for a friend. It seemed unlikely anybody could sleep—too much blood and death, too much danger lurking just beyond the wagons.

“We’re hours from Lorraine,” Vince Howe said. “Let me load your fallen man, and we’ll see him buried when we’re safe.”

I acceded.

That was a miserable march with sorrow gnawing through my backbone. Tegan wore a dead, awful look, one I recognized from when Rex lost his wife. She didn’t mourn Stalker like that, but shock had a hold of her, as if something this awful couldn’t possibly be true. I moved without thinking about where I put my feet, and six hours later, despite wagon speed, Lorraine rose ahead of us. In the morning light, it looked different from the first time we visited. Lorraine was a pretty town, a combination of Salvation and Soldier’s Pond. The houses were made of wood, but the ramparts surrounding it were made of stone, like a picture I saw in a book once; Edmund had called it a castle. They had a standing militia, but they didn’t patrol much. It was a common theme in the territory—people didn’t go out looking for trouble if they had a choice. They’d let the Freaks push them back, until they feared the wilderness like drinking poison.

Better we stay safe, they said. Better that those trained to do so go out to do battle with the monsters.

If not for the men willing to brave the trade routes, these towns would be dead already. But for sheer appearance, Lorraine got high marks. It was more polished than Otterburn, less divided than Winterville. The buildings were old but well kept, of timber and stone. The roads leading up to town were made of dirt, but once the guard waved us past the gates, they had been swept, neat lines in the dust contributing to an orderly feel. People wore functional clothing here, both men and women. There wasn’t a lot of variation in the dyes, but working with Momma Oaks had given me some idea about fabrics, and they had skilled weavers.

Arranging a proper funeral took most of the day. Vince Howe paid the fees and found Stalker a spot in the town cemetery. The undertaker took his body from us, and the next time we saw him, he was encased in a wooden box. There were men hired specifically to bury it, and people came from town because Howe asked them to. But I had the hardest job, for it fell to me to speak the right words in saying good-bye.

My throat tightened. “Stalker wasn’t always a good person, but he was a fierce warrior, and he died well. Good hunting, my friend.”

The men echoed it with one final battle cry, and then the gravediggers shoveled dirt on his casket. Howe set his hand on my shoulder. “I owe you. I doubt we’d have made it back in one piece without your men. So let me show you to your lodgings.”

The last time we were here, they left us to fend for ourselves, but today, we received a heroes’ welcome. The townsfolk offered us the town hall for our barracks and ladies of all ages promised to deliver warm crocks of food before the sun set. Before that, however, the local pubs sent us jugs of watered wine. I didn’t want drunks on my squad, as they tended to be loud and uncoordinated, but if any occasion called for some indulgence, it was this one.

It had been a devil of a week.

Once we were settled in the great room, I gave the orders in a monotone. “Get comfortable, men. Try not to think about the ones we lost. They died as they chose. Not every man gets to say that.”

“True enough,” Thornton answered. “I hope I go out half as well.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Spence said.

They all raised their mugs, and I went over to Tegan, who still wore that odd, frozen look. “Anything I can do?”

She covered her face with her hands. “I shouldn’t have come. That invitation from Dr. Wilson was a sign, and I ignored it. If I’d stayed in Winterville, Stalker would still be alive.”

“You can’t know that,” I said firmly.

Fade joined us, folding down into a cross-legged position. “Deuce’s right.”

Tegan clenched a fist and banged it on her knee. “There was a time when this was all I thought about. I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to understand how much I suffered at their hands. Sometimes I fantasized about his death. But … I never imagined it would be for me.”

I couldn’t decide what to say, but before I made it worse, she went on, “I’d appreciate it if you gave me a little time to make sense of things. I’ll be all right.”

Since that was obviously a dismissal, Fade stood and pulled me to my feet. I went over to Thornton and said softly, “I need some air. You’re in charge until I get back.”

The older man nodded. “I doubt these boys are going anywhere. They’re tired and hungry, waiting on the food we were promised.”

“I’m sure it’ll be here soon. Vince Howe seemed serious about looking out for us.”

“We did him a good turn and he knows it. If honor means anything here in Lorraine, he won’t go back on his word.”

I was counting on that. Hurt expanded in my chest, until I felt like I’d choke if I didn’t get away for a while, away from promises and expectations, away from death. Fade followed me out of the town hall, his steps echoing after mine. I ran through the twilight, attracting strange looks from the people going about their business, until I arrived at the graveyard where we’d left Stalker. The men were gone, and the hole was filled in. They had planted a rectangular stone, which they promised would bear his name soon enough. A man with a chisel would cut the rock away until he shaped it just right.

Dropping down beside his grave, I cried as I hadn’t even when I held my friend’s body in my arms. The sobs tore out of me, loud against the quiet night. Fade knelt and wrapped his arms around me, so I sealed my face against his shoulder, hoping to muffle some of the noise. He didn’t try to quiet me, offering only silence and warmth. When I calmed, I noticed his hands stroking down my back.

“Better?” he asked at length.

“Not really. But I can handle it now.”

“I didn’t like him,” he said quietly, “but I’m sorry you lost a friend.”

“He won’t be the last, I fear. And I couldn’t stand it if you—”

Fade silenced me with his mouth; this wasn’t a hungry, taking kiss, but one that gave back comfort and tenderness, soothing my inner ache. This wasn’t the place for such things, however, so I struggled to my feet and dusted off my knees. The ache might never go away, but I was strong enough to swallow it down and remember how a Huntress should respond. Lately, I was more girl than Huntress, and it was making my job more complicated. Down below, I would’ve reacted less emotionally, factoring our chances of success or failure without much regard for loss of human life.

Together, we left the graveyard and headed toward the town hall. At night, people stayed indoors, so the dirt lanes were deserted and the windows shone with golden light. Guards manned the stone walls with rifles and crossbows like the one Tully carried. If any human settlements stood a chance of survival, Gaspard and Lorraine did. Appleton was lost, and I didn’t think Winterville had much longer, unless they made some drastic changes.

When Fade and I returned, the men were eating. I had no appetite but Fade persuaded me to drink some soup. Morrow sat beside Tegan, whispering in her ear. She wasn’t smiling at his nonsense but from the light in her eyes, she was no longer feeling quite so heavyhearted. Once the food and drink were gone, we all rolled into our blankets and went to sleep.

In the morning, as promised, Vince Howe came to take me before the council. I hadn’t even managed a meeting last time before they laughed me out of town, and that failure burned as I accompanied him to the restaurant. They didn’t have those in Salvation or Soldier’s Pond, but apparently, it was a place where you could buy prepared food. Inside, there were tables covered in pretty cloths and chairs with cushions. I attracted a few looks because despite my efforts in Winterville, my appearance was ragged. My plaits were disheveled and my plain brown road gear showed signs of hard use.

But I lifted my chin and strode past the onlookers like I had a right to be there. Five people sat waiting, three men and two women, all in late middle age, I guessed, according to Topside life spans. The men stood when I approached and gestured me to a seat. I glanced over my shoulder at Vince Howe, who sat beside me. He spoke all their names, but I didn’t bother learning them. If any of them proved a worthy ally, then I would.

“This is the leader of Company D.”

Remembering my manners, I extended a hand to each of them and gave my best “I mean business” shake. Then Howe went on, “Last night, I mentioned how much her men helped us and what they sacrificed to see our goods safely here.”

“What would you like in recompense?” a fair-haired woman asked me.

She expected me to request money to trade in town, possibly provisions or the right to our current lodgings for as long as we liked. But I surprised them.

“Volunteers,” I said bluntly.

Two of the council members exchanged a look. “For what?”

You promised Stalker you’d see this through.

“The army. We lost good men defending Winterville and more on the way here. The only way we can defeat the horde is to build a force capable of meeting them on the field. Lorraine’s a strong town with good walls and sound defenses. You can spare some men for the fight.”

“I understand the urgency,” the councilman said. “We’ve had reports about Appleton, and I’ve been expecting to see Muties on the march for days now. But what if men don’t step up?”

“Then we draft them,” Howe snapped.

A young woman took requests for food; I let Vince Howe choose mine. Soon after, she delivered our plates, along with fresh bread. The speed and luxury of it amazed me.

I ate while they debated the morality of such a course. It was something like the lottery in Otterburn, only the men chosen would end up joining Company D instead of being sent out as sacrifices. To my mind, this was better, as they had a chance of coming home. The discussion raged all through breakfast, and I didn’t hurry them along because I was enjoying the food so much. Fluffy scrambled eggs and hot buttered muffins, warm tea and a dish of fruit; it reminded me of the feasts Momma Oaks used to make. If I succeeded out here, maybe one day she’d have her own kitchen again. Between my desire to give my family a new home and my promise to Stalker, there was no way I could quit this task. I’d see the Freaks defeated or die in the attempt.