Raven's decision of immediate and swift departure from Kebos did not please Melissah. The young girl followed her around Santiago's home while Raven packed a bag. Clothing, dull and ordinary, to escape detection. Plenty of layers to add on when the temperature dropped. She needed warmer footwear.

"Don't be an idiot, Raven!" Melissah followed her to the pantry. "It's almost five-hundred miles to Olisgard, half of which is barren bloody desert—and Khalimat's men are scouring every inch of it looking for you."

Oats and dried meat. It was only a six-day journey, but she was still recovering. Always pack more than needed. Always. "I've traveled farther and longer, with more people looking." She held up a jar of honey for Santiago to see. "May I take this?"

"Of course." He gestured, picking through the food on kitchen table. "What's mine is yours."

"You are not helping!" Melissah huffed.

"No?" Santiago selected a wedge of cheese from the platter, paired it with a slice of cured meat, and took a bite. "The queen asked me to look out for you, and to find Raven. I happen to think I'm doing just fine with those requests."

A peculiar man for certain, Santiago began to grow on Raven. It felt odd to trust a stranger, but if Alyssa relied on him, she was more than willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Especially after he'd risked his own life helping her escape.

"Well, that's just great," Mellisah said. "Humor my misunderstanding for a moment, Raven. You've only had a half-days rest after spending seven weeks in a broom closet, and you're ready to journey across the country with Khalimat's right-hand man after you? Now, remind me. Eight weeks ago, you were ambushed and subsequently captured by whom, exactly?"

Oh, what a fiery little thing. She often forgot that nearly a decade separated their ages. "That was different. The stakes have changed."

"Gods." Melissah raked her hands through her hair and groaned. "You're being willfully obtuse!"

"If I may interject," Santiago said between bites of charcuterie. "Travel with a caravan on the trade route. They take a more western path, but carry water for the horses, meaning you wouldn't have to stop at any of the watering holes across the desert. All the places Rhet will be looking."

Sound advice. Something she'd already considered, but the spur of the moment decision to run grew difficult to ignore. She fiddled with her cloak. "And do you know of any such caravans?"

The masked man flashed a knowing smile. "I might."

Weapons. The silver band cut off her magic. She'd need other means to fight. "What about a sword? A bow and quiver of arrows?"

"Easily acquired. I've plenty of coin to give you, should you need it on the road. I also find it necessary to remind you that in a few short hours, the entire southern army will be marching north, so the sooner you leave, the better your chances of making it to Olisgard alive."

"Fine!" Melissah barked. "Fine. Go to Olisgard. But I'm coming with you."

"Absolutely not," Raven said. "I won't risk your life."

"My life isn't yours to risk. It's mine, and I'm risking it to get back home. You're just a convenient travel companion. Now pack another bag of food. I get grouchy when I don't eat."

O.O.O.O.O

By midday, Raven and Melissah secured passage with a caravan headed to Olisgard. The only caravan willing to make the journey, considering news of the Hudar invasion. Marcus, the old man in charge—rough as sunbaked-leather and mean as a pit viper—didn't give a damn about anyone, Hudar or otherwise, getting in the way of his earnings. The handful of coins on top of his normal fee helped sweeten the deal.

Prior to leaving, Raven and Santiago had made quick work of smearing Avarice with wood ash, dirtying his pristine white coat an off-shade of black. He didn't mind the attention, and after adding the beat-up saddlebags and bedrolls, he certainly didn't look like the horse of Norrian royalty. Just another precaution to avoid drawing attention.

Several hours into their journey, Raven kept a keen eye turned backwards, watching for anything suspicious. Anything at all. She would not go back to Khalimat. Ever. Heightened anxiety translated into clenched jaws and grinding teeth. Her neck grew stiff from being turned. But the hot desert air on her face soothed away a little tension. She was free, atop Avarice, and in a few days time, she would be reunited with Alyssa.

She and Melissah followed behind Marcus' covered wagon, pulled by two draft mules keeping a steady pace down the trade road. Melissah's smaller pony—who she insisted returned to Olisgard with her—had to lengthen his stride to keep up. Melissah's head bobbed along with the brisk pace, saddle bags bouncing and creaking. It would be a long, bumpy six days for her.

Raven took a break from watching to stretch her neck. "Why are you clutching that ratty old bag like it's your firstborn?"

"This?" Melissah patted the worn brown satchel swinging at her hip. "It's for Alyssa."

"A gift?"

"I've no idea. She'd sent me to fetch this from Santiago at the market the day you two fled Olisgard, When I'd returned, you both were gone."

That seemed a lifetime ago. "You've kept it all this time and you didn't open it?"

"It's not mine to open."

"You really care for her."

The young woman shrugged, growing red in the cheeks. "She took me in off the streets. I've never had a family, but I imagine she's what it's like to have someone to care about."

Indeed, Alyssa had a way of changing lives. Even if the plan wasn't always apparent.

O.O.O.O.O

As dusk settled over Olisgard, Alyssa stood in the guard tower above the southern gates, gaze fixed on the tree line far across the snowy meadow. Raven should have received her message days ago, and should arrive any day now. But growing excitement warred with crippling anxiety. Since Raven's escape, every moment became life or death with Khalimat's men hunting her. Would Raven be in any condition to elude them? How had she faired in captivity? The very thought of her being tormented and tortured set her vision seething red.

She gripped the stone windowsill, shoulders tightening. Raven deserved vengeance. And for her crimes, Khalimat would pay with her life. No matter the cost, Alyssa vowed to see it through. That pretty lioness head would adorn her wall.

The door behind her squeaked open. Grayson slipped inside the small watch room and bolted the door. He'd traded his ill-fitting Norrian armor for a more comfortable tunic and coat, bearing a single black scarf around his neck. Unremarkable to any Norrian, but to the Hudar, it meant ally. A title he'd already proven.

"Everything all right, Richard?"

"Yes," he panted, out of breath. "I just, received, this." He held up a carrier bird scroll.

Good news? Or bad? Gods, every moment of unknown made her insides squirm. She took the message, noting Santiago's unbroken seal.

Khalimat will burn Olisgard to the ground.

Fire . . . A strategy she hadn't considered. Her mouth went dry. Why fight the Hudar, even with her superior numbers, when Khalimat could surround the city and burn it to ashes? Khalimat didn't care if all five-thousand Norrians died alongside the Hudar. She didn't care about anything beyond the desert.

Alyssa inhaled slowly, willing her heartbeat into a more manageable pace. It was far too late to evacuate the city. Even if they tried, where would they run? Trapped by the frozen mountains, the hostile Norrains to the north, and Khalimat's army. They'd never make it east, across the vast plains to the neighboring nations of Duul or Marsinkos. The only option was to meet Khalimat in open battle, never allowing the army close enough to the walls to launch a fiery offensive.

Two thousand Hudar against seven thousand Norrians. Her stomach churned.

Grayson cleared his throat. "From your expression, that doesn't appear to be good news."

She extended the scroll to him. "Remember the siege we spoke of?"

He read the message, face going slack. "Can . . . does Khalimat have the means to hurl fire over the walls?"

"I have no doubt that woman is capable of fulfilling her threats. She's skilled in magic and seething in rage."

"But aren't the Hudar also skilled in magic? More so, if legends hold any merit."

"They are." Gods, they were capable of awe-inspiring acts. But she didn't want any of them to die in a senseless battle. The Hudar could just flee. Return to the wintering grounds and live out their lives in peace. Khalimat wouldn't chase them. The lioness would destroy Olisgard and return to the desert, but no further Hudar blood would be spilt.

But the Hudar didn't answer to her. She had no power over them. If anything, they possessed her, instilling an aching need for change.

Grayson handed her the message. "Then perhaps we have nothing to fear."

"We shall see if Amara feels the same."

Alyssa pulled up her hood, masking her blonde hair before leaving the guard tower. She'd kept her identity secret from the citizens so far, and aimed to continue that ruse. Queen Alyssa Norxis died on that mountain, and dead she would remain. The woman who returned to Olisgard in her place bore similar resemblance, but had evolved beyond the realm of her predecessor.

Once reunited with Raven, Jinx planned on leaving Norr for good.

O.O.O.O.O

Khalimat despised leaving the desert. She peered through the window of her carriage, taking in the snow-dusted trees. Four days on the road, and the desert had long since perished. She shouldn't be in the middle of frozen nowhere, surrounded by thousands of soldiers. Despite the cold, the farther north she travelled, the hotter her rage burned. That insidious, overwhelming contempt for most of mankind. She had kept that anger close all her life, thriving in the unbearable heat while everyone else withered away. She'd planned and plotted for decades, and now accompanied an enormous army campaign northward.

Her army.

Marching at Queen Khalimat's command, preparing to decimate the great walled city of Olisgard. Once worthy of the title, but no longer. The time for small-minded nobles holding court for petty bickering was at an end. Kenos had weakened Norr with his quest for riches at the Spire, wasting a generation of men in that bloody western battle. His only redeeming quality was having Alyssa Norxis at his side. But even in that, he'd failed to do anything other than suffocate an otherwise brilliant woman. A terrible shame she had to die on that ruthless mountain. She had such promise.

Cold air invaded Khalimat's carriage, seeping through cracks around the window. She shrugged in her heavy robes and blew into her hands, manifesting a sphere of fire between her palms. With a delicate flutter of her fingertips, the flames shifted to the small lantern at her feet, bringing instant warmth to the chilled carriage. Of all the skills she'd acquired during her fifty-seven years, nothing had seemed so perfect for her than pyromancy. And did she ever wield it well.

In flames Norr would be reborn anew, rising from the ashes under her leadership. And once the Hudar were driven back to the wilds, she could appoint new stewards in Northgate and what remained of Olisgard, then return to Kebos to rule from the comforts of her southern fortress. She had no doubts her plan was well within reach. With the number of men at her disposal, it wouldn't even take very long. Only one unknown possibility gave her pause.

Raven.

Even surrounded by seven thousand of the most capable soldiers on the continent, she didn't feel safe. She'd never feel safe again until that Hudar witch was back in chains at her side. Captured but not captive. Any notion of re-establishing genuine control over Raven would take years, but something she'd happily take on. Nothing got her blood thumping more than the challenge of dominating a demi-demon.

Khalimat smiled, toying with her silver thumb ring.

Her demon.

O.O.O.O.O

The transition from desert to deciduous forest happened gradually. Endless rocky ground shifted to shrubs and grasses. Trees grew more frequently. The sweltering desert heat cooled with each passing day. On the fourth night, Raven woke to find the fire had died and a layer of snow covering her bedroll.

It felt good to be cold. To shiver. To chop wood and warm herself by the fire. Simple, mundane things grounded her wandering thoughts. After having resigned herself to a slow death in that dark cell, every sound and sensation was invigorating. Overwhelming at times, but so unbelievably satisfying.

By the fifth day, they'd lost the advantage of visibility. The dense oak and cedar forest provided them cover, but it also afforded the same concealment to anyone else. Snow cushioned sounds, leaving them with a deceptive sense of seclusion. Since leaving Kebos, they hadn't seen one sign of Khalimat's men. Maybe they'd really eluded them. Maybe she'd managed a scrap of good fortune for once in her life. Raven didn't have much experience with luck, but Melissah was hopeful.

They'd parted ways with Marcus and his mules just south of Olisgard. He'd stuck to the northern road, headed for Jamestown. They'd traveled onward well into the night, and when they couldn't keep awake, made camp in a thicket off the main trail, huddled in bedrolls while the horses dozed beside them. Now a few hours past dawn, they'd eaten the last of the rolled oats and shared the remaining figs.

"I can't wait for a proper bath." Melissah squatted in the snow at a small creek, washing her face with a rag. "Hot water. Hot food. A soft, warm bed."

"It's only been six days without those things."

"Oh, I'm well aware how long I've gone without. Six non-stop days of travel, with little sleep, less food, and more fresh air than I'm prepared to handle. I'm a frail little city mouse. Roughing it in the wilds does not suit me. So I'm very much looking forward to my last brisk jog on horseback to that gods forsaken city I call home."

Home.

Raven picked at a splash of mud on her riding trousers. She'd been on the run for so long, the prospect of reaching a destination made her ache. Cosmic exhaustion weighed on her, made each step forward unbearably difficult. Did she really belong anywhere? That ever-present voice in the periphery muttered malevolent, incessant doubt.

She didn't have a home. She wouldn't make it to Olisgard. Wouldn't ever see Alyssa again. She could never escape Khalimat. Never be rid of the darkness. It would consume her.

Consume everything.

That was her purpose.

Bringer of death.

Annihilation.

No. She rubbed her wrist, mouth dry and throat tight. The silver band felt tighter than ever before. As a child, the darkness had not yet taken root, so any extended period of time with that cursed band did not cause her trouble. But after a lifetime of torment, those dark tendrils had grown bone-deep, and without her connection to the veil, she had no means to release the building pressure. She needed to let it out before—

Thudding in the distance. Raven glanced over her shoulder. Too far to make out the location in the trees, but the rumble drew closer.

Hoof beats. Too many hoof beats. Her skin crawled.

"Get on your horse!" Raven rushed to Avarice and tightened his girth. "Hurry!"

Melissah swore, sloshing out of the creek like a wet cat and scrambled onto her pony. He danced in a wide circle, eyes wide and ears flattened. "We're still miles away. We'll never make it."

Raven grabbed the pony's reins and turned him towards Olisgard. "You'll make it. Ride for the gates. Don't stop for anything, understand? Do not stop."

"What about you? Don't you dare do anything stupid—"

"Go!" She slapped the pony's rump.

He squealed and bolted, nearly slinging Melissah. "Damnit, Raven!" she yelled as they galloped down the trail, out of view in moments. They could make it. But they'd need every second she could spare them.

Raven slung herself into the saddle and tugged her hood low just as riders cleared the far bend of the path.

Two by two, men on horseback trotted into view, bearing white and red robes. Twelve total, all guards of the Temple of Sekhmet. One of the front riders, unmistakably Rhet, slowed the group's pace as he focused on her.

Of all the unpleasant things to be said about Rhet, lack of determination was not among them. Khalimat would not accept failure, and Raven could not begrudge that motivation. Everything else about him, however; she absolutely loathed.

Raven turned Avarice and positioned him blocking the whole path, their right side facing the approaching guards. Heart pounding, she leaned forward, scratching his mane with her right hand while unlashing the bow from her saddle with the left. "One last run, beast," she murmured. "I'll never ask anything of you again."

"Halt!" Rhet's voice boomed from afar, bearing all the weight and confidence his title demanded. "Halt and identify yourself!"

She straightened in the saddle, using her cloak and movement to mask nocking an arrow. While not her weapon of choice, she had enough experience to know Rhet needed to be closer to hit her mark. If only she could unleash the pent-up fury trapped beneath her skin. Paint the snow-dusted ground crimson with their entrails. It would be so easy. So rewarding.

So delicious.

Hunger growled insider her, craving something other than food.

Sweat pebbled her brow. She tightened her grip on the bow. Avarice quivered beneath her, wound tight as the sinew string.

"Rider!" Rhet unsheathed his sword, starting a chain reaction with the remaining guards. He crossed within range, close enough to see the whites of his eyes. "Identify yourself!"

She twisted, took aim and loosed the arrow, white and black feathers spiraling away before Rhet had time to react.

The arrow thudded flesh. He grunted and wobbled in the saddle, hand to the wooden shaft stuck in his clavicle. Guards shouted and broke ranks, surging to surround their leader.

Rhet growled like a wounded lion. "Raven!"

She cued Avarice into a gallop and leapt off trail, weaving between trees, trying to draw the whole group after her. Melissah's smaller pony, even with their generous head start, could not contend with the speed of these southern-bred mounts. Avarice couldn't either, but his sheer size gave the advantage with clearing obstacles. He plowed through the brush as if it wasn't there, covering great distance between strides. Branches snapped and stung her face, but they powered on, racing blindly through the winter forest.

Men shouted behind them, countered by dozens of roaring hoof beats.

Thwip!

An arrow zipped past her shoulder. Then another. The trees would only provide her protection for so long.

The cold air burned her lungs, christened with the heady odor of wet earth churned by so many feet. Raven nocked another arrow, turned and fired. Someone yelped. She stretched forward, giving the horse as much rein as she could. The break-neck pace continued, ducking, dodging, leaping through crisscrossed trunks and branches. Farther and farther into the endless woods.

An eternity of running.

Avarice's sides heaved, but he kept the same terrifying pace. How long had it been? How far had they traveled? How on earth did this poor horse have so much heart to give?

One last thicket, and they stumbled into the vast, snow-covered meadow surrounding the walled city of Olisgard. Never had Raven thought she would relish the sight of that horrible city. But now, racing towards it, tears stung her eyes.

Alyssa.

They were so close. So close. Far up ahead, Melissah skirted the road, out of range from the guards and their arrows.

But Raven had lost the cover of trees.

Thwip!

An arrow grazed her elbow. Pain shot to her fingertips, hot and instant, but she kept her grip on the reins. She flattened herself against the horse's neck, trying to minimize their target.

The massive southern gate grew in size as she neared, revealing without a doubt that the impenetrable portcullis was closed. In less than a minute she'd be at the gate, trapped between the twenty-foot walls and Khalimant's men. Avarice didn't have enough reserves to make a loop around the city, but she was certain he'd drop dead before he gave up. Dead would be their only other option, because Raven would not return to Khalimat alive.

She glanced over her shoulder, spotting Rhet several lengths behind her. The arrow shaft bobbed from his chest as he whipped his horse hard, gaining ground. Fear and desperation drove him to madness.

"I will catch you!" he screamed. "You will never escape!"

Another arrow screamed past her cheek, missing flesh by a hair. She couldn't outrun them much longer.

A loud groan jerked her attention forward as the thick wooden gate began to rise. Was this a hallucination? Raven blinked to clear her vision. More movement caught her eye. Dark figures appeared in the distance. Riders? But they moved so quickly. She scanned ahead. Melissah and her pony surged under the open gate, into the city. By her next blink, the dark riders were almost upon her, and the reason for their swiftness became apparent.

Za'hava warriors, adorned with bone headdresses, black robes billowing. Two dozen or more, curved swords and short bows raised, howling as they raced towards her.

A renewed rush of adrenaline took her breath away. It had been so long since she'd seen her own people. And what a sight they were to behold! Perhaps she should be terrified. They might be on their way to kill her. And if she were to choose the manner of her death, she'd rather it be at the hands of Hudar than any goddamn Norrian.

So be it. Let them come. Let her finally be free of this wretched existence.

The first rank of za'hava flew past, giving her wide berth. Raven looked back, catching Rhet's horrified gaze.

He understood now.

She had told him, on the mountain, after he'd shot her twice and left Alyssa unconscious in the snow.

You will die.

Pity she wasn't the one to carry out that promise.

Rhet yanked his reins, trying to turn his horse. The closest za'hava swung their sword and caught him right under the chin. A spray of crimson mist, and Rhet dropped to the frozen meadow in a limp, headless heap.

Screams followed, as the remaining temple guards were slaughtered by the Hudar in mere moments, blood spattering the pristine snow. The za'hava moved with such grace and precision. Shifting from those violent killing blows to round up the guard's panicked horses, gently herding them towards the gate like lambs gone astray.

The whole picture seemed too perfect. A visceral reminder of something she'd been missing. Something owed.

Raven slowed Avarice to a trot as they passed through the walls, into an encampment of tents and black-cloaked Hudar. They were everywhere, armed and poised and terrifying. Her desire to run melded with the uncanny need to fall at their feet in joy, begging them to make her whole again. To make her Hudar.

Evidently overcome with similar emotions, Melissah sat on her pony, frozen in the middle of the main road.

Raven halted her horse beside her. "Are you all right? Melissah?"

"What?" The girl jerked to face her, startled as a mouse. "Yes, I'm . . . There's just a few thousand-too-many wraiths staring at us, but I'm fine. We're sure Alyssa's here?"

"Would you like to go back to Kebos?"

"Your hand," she said. "It's bleeding."

Raven turned her arm over and pulled up the sleeve of her robes. The arrow had sliced from elbow to wrist, leaving an open gash dribbling blood down to her fingers. "Just a scratch."

"It's a wound, Raven. You're hurt."

"I'm always hurt. Doesn't make much of a difference to me."

Hooves clattered the road as a single za'hava checked their mount beside them. A massive man with long dark braids and full beard. "Follow me," he said in Hudari. "Keep your hoods up and stay close."

It took a moment for the words to register. How long had it been since she'd heard her mother tongue, let alone spoken by a fellow Hudar? The delicate cadence of consonants and vowels induced an instant trance. This truly was surreal.

"What did he say?" Melissah murmured. "Raven?"

She snapped out of the thought and cued Avarice to a brisk walk behind the man. "Follow him."

O.O.O.O.O

Alyssa slumped at the crowded table in the study, scrutinizing the map she'd scribbled across all night. A mug of cold tea and bread sat forgotten in the clutter.

"You really should rest." Amara perched opposite her, calm and poised as ever. If the Hudar were a culture that valued physical beauty, she would be testament to it. Strong jaw and cheekbones complimented by shiny black hair, braided for battle. "And eat. You never eat."

"I had breakfast."

"That was yesterday. The sun has set and now risen since then, and you've done nothing but drive yourself into the ground with worry."

How could she not worry? "You're sure you want to do this? Risk all your lives for essentially nothing? Raven and I are just two people. Specks of dust in the desert. Not worth all the lives at stake. You should take the Hudar and leave while you can."

"We aren't going anywhere," she said. "We knew the risks in coming here. We're more than capable of handling the consequences."

"But we're vastly outnumbered, and now destined to be trapped and burned alive."

"The odds are a bit skewed in our favor. Four Norrians for ever za'hava hardly seems fair. But that's the hand Khalimat's been dealt."

Surely Alyssa's throbbing migraine was distorting her rational thought process. "Did . . . did you just make a joke?"

"I never jest."

"How can you be so confident! So sure you'll manage to survive Khalimat's army?"

"It comes with age, I'm afraid. You'll know in another decade or so."

"If I live through the next week, you mean. If any of us live."

A knock rattled the door, too loud to be anyone other than Jarl.

"Come in," Amara said.

Jarl poked his head into the room. "You got another message, Jinx."

"Gods, what now?"

"Go on," he said to someone in the hall, then stepped back. A hooded figure entered, and closed the door behind them.

One of the Hudar? But wearing tan robes. Dirty and incredibly dilapidated . . . Alyssa blinked, heart thundering in her ears.

Raven lowered her hood, face peppered with grime and hair a mess.

Alyssa launched out of the chair and her knees nearly gave out. She stumbled forward, engulfed Raven in arms and robes and sobs.

Raven clutched her so fiercely she couldn't breathe, as if no matter how firmly she squeezed, they couldn't get close enough. As if she would never let them part again. And they wouldn't. Nothing in the cosmos would stand between them.

"I thought—" Raven's voice wavered but her arms held tight. "I thought you were dead."

Until this moment, she had been. Alyssa swallowed through the tears, trying to catch her breath. "Well, you're not the only one with lives to spare. You're bleeding."

"I'm fine."

"Where's Melissah?"

"Safe. In the kitchens with some blue-eyed boy."

"My charming dark traveller." She cupped Raven's face, cataloguing every inch of skin. Cold, thin and weary, burdened with whatever torment she'd endured these past months, but very much alive. Alive and in her arms once again. "How I've missed you."

"You're unbelievable. Sacking your own capitol with a foreign army. Look at you. You've turned Hudar. Have you completely lost your mind?"

"Oh, yes. From the moment I laid eyes on you." She leaned in, lips brushing against Raven's. "I've suffered sira kavi."

Raven turned and pinned her to the wall, pressing with a millennium of unfulfilled need. The roughness and urgency set Alyssa's skin ablaze. Hands roved, desperate for bare flesh, for visceral, molten heat, further stoked by lips and teeth and tongue. She needed to be reborn. Each second apart had spanned a lifetime, and Alyssa wanted nothing more than to live forever in this moment of pure—

"Ahem."

A jolt of lightning shot up Alyssa's spine. They were not alone in the study. "Shit." She untangled herself from Raven, scrambling for composure. "Wait—wait."

But the Hudar had already spun towards the forgotten observer, growling with the ferocity of a cornered wolf. The switch from passion to fury happened with startling abruptness. More so than the woman had ever expressed in the past.

"Wait," Alyssa snapped, hand fisted in Raven's robes. "This is Amara, one of twelve elders of Hudar. She saved my life. Relax."

"Well met, za'hava." Amara inclined her chin in the customary greeting. "You're safe here."

It took several moments until Raven's posture eased. She wobbled a step backwards. "I . . . apologies. I'm not quite . . . myself these days." The color left her face in an instant.

"What's wrong?" Alyssa grasped her hand as Raven collapsed in a boneless heap. Alyssa dropped with her, catching her head before it cracked the stone floor. "Raven?"

She lay in limp stillness, eyelids flickering in a fever dream.