The forest was darkening fast, . Katizi, Molava, Miera, Serra, and Nivek were tired from running all day, always just ahead of the soldiers. Miera and Serra had slumped against the rough bark of a tree, too spent to move, while Katizi, Molava, and Nivek remained on their feet, voices low but sharp with tension.
Molava, arms folded and eyes narrowed, nodded toward Miera. "She says this woman's on the run from them too. They want to shut her away in a convent. Maybe Miera's right—maybe she's not with them."
Katizi's mouth tightened. "Don't start getting comfortable Molava. Trust will get you killed."
Molava looks at Sierra. "She doesn't have the face of a spy."
"That's exactly what marks a good spy," Katizi shot back. "Someone who hides behind a mask of innocence."
Nivek cut in, sounding impatient. "Let her go her own way. You two are arguing over nothing."
Katizi's eyes flicked toward him. "On the contrary, you and her should go your own way. I don't trust either of you."
Molava gave a dry laugh. "Then fine—we leave her here. But that doesn't fix the real problem. They're hunting us. They'll find us, maybe within hours."
"My direction is my problem," Katizi said flatly.
Molava's tone turned mocking. "Protis—that's your direction. The witch said so. I hope Octavian finds you there… and kills you."
"I've got my reasons," Katizi replied, voice sharp. "Stay out of them."
Nivek shook his head. "You're all walking into the wolf's mouth. Protis will have heavier soldier patrols. And if it's an enemy clan, it'll be crawling with Fondeur troops."
Katizi's lip curled. "What, are you floating above the clouds now to get a better view?"
Molava turned on Nivek. "You're a foreigner. I doubt you're the one to trust as a guide. Leave."
Serra's voice broke through, soft but steady. "He's right."
All three turned to stare. Serra pushed herself to her feet, hesitant but determined. "Protis is surrounded by Greek soldiers—it's the border with Turkey. On one hand, it could be the best option. If you know someone there who's also against Fondeur, it might be safe. But Octavian kills without asking questions. They say anything that looks like Fondeur is Fondeur. Still… for fugitives, it's our best chance. To reach the border, though, we'd need a permit. No one comes or goes freely. And only Fondeur can issue one."
Molava let out a bitter laugh. "A permit? Imagine one of us asking for that. That'd be the day our pathetic lives"
Katizi's eyes lingered on Serra, weighing her words. Nivek stepped closer to the young woman. "Even if we got one, what makes you think they'd let us through? Look at us—we're fugitives. They blame us for that fire that probably wiped out half the king's legion. Everyone's seen our faces."
Katizi's voice was edged with grim humor. "Oh, they'll break us for sure—if we're lucky, we'll be dead before they crucify us. I've got nothing to lose trying for Protis."
Molava's gaze slid toward Katizi, suspicion sharpening her features. "What's your game with Protis? You bark like a dog—you're not the type to agree with anyone."
"Maybe Protis shares my hatred for these people," Katizi said coolly. "This one knows the history—she knows I'm right."
Molava kept staring, as though trying to read her thoughts.
Nivek's voice was flat. "We're on the wrong continent. Greece is death."
Katizi snorted. "Don't make excuses. You're too stupid to be a spy—but you're capable of everything else."
"I was a slave," Nivek said, his voice suddenly rising. "Just a boy when a ship came to my island. I spent years aboard it, the crew's property. Believe me or not, I don't care. I have no witnesses—anyone who jumped into the sea for freedom was executed. I was lucky to escape. And now… we're here, in the same damn trap."
For a few seconds, no one spoke. Then Serra's voice broke the silence. "Pirates. They're the ones who took you. Fondeur had nothing to do with it. Pirates come from far beyond Greece. If you reached Greece's shores, escaping would've been impossible. Three clans guard the coast. Even if you reached the forest, you'd face massive walls—and archers would kill you before you reached them. The only way inside is knowing someone."
Molava and Katizi both turned to Nivek. Molava's hand went to her sword. "Looks like your mask is off. Fair you die here."
Nivek stepped back quickly. "Alright, fine—you're right. I lied."
Katizi almost smiled. "Now I believe you—that's the most honest thing you've said."
Molava hurled her sword, but Nivek ducked behind a tree.
"Wait, Molava," Katizi said sharply. "He's got something else to say."
Molava stared at her in disbelief. "Who the hell are you Katizi? I don't even know you anymore."
"You should thank me for saving you from your lousy aim," Katizi replied. "What are you chasing—a runaway chicken?"
"You're the first who wanted him dead," Molava shot back. "Now you're defending him. You've lost your mind."
"Yes—yes, exactly," Nivek blurted. "That night, I reached Esparza's walls, but the archers brought me down. I was so badly wounded I spent days in bed. The Princess of Esparza saw me from her tower. She wanted to know who I was. I told her. We traded stories. We trusted each other. Enough that I joined a plot to kill the king. The plan was to smuggle a woman into the castle for the assassination. She was to be replaced by another woman from Esparza. We were supposed to descend the hill together at the exact moment for the swap. But something went wrong. I went down alone. The girl was already in the carriage. I don't know who made the switch or where the original went. They betrayed me—but the plan's still alive. She's headed to Fondeur."
Molava glanced at Katizi. "You're not seriously believing this. He'll kill us in our sleep."
Nivek tore off his cloak and ripped open his shirt, showing scars and deep puncture wounds. Serra moved in to look closer. "These aren't sword cuts. Something sharp pierced the skin."
"An arrow?" Miera asked.
Serra nodded. "Exactly."
Molava lowered her sword. "Bastards."
"This secret dies with me," Nivek said quietly. "They're looking for a reason to execute Princess Sagraria—and this is one of them. I couldn't tell you before. I owe her my life. But now you know."
Katizi glanced at Serra.
Serra spoke slowly, weighing her words. "It could be just an excuse to kill Sagraria. Maybe he's carrying that rumor straight to Fondeur. But the wounds are from arrows—and no clan can shoot like that without being atop a tower. So yes, there's a chance he's telling the truth."
Molava's eyes narrowed at Serra. "You're a strange, freckled creature. Makes me want to shut you up for good. Can't you keep quiet?"
"It's possible Fondeur knows this woman," Katizi said. "I'm sure they could identify her."
"They only saw her once," Nivek said quickly. "Marcus, the king's son, visited her. He knew her face. But months passed, and he never returned. We found a girl who looked somewhat like her. But Marcus could tell the difference. For now, he's busy with an expedition to Protis. I figure by the time I reach Fondeur—if I reach it—Cesari will have killed the king."
"Cesari?" Katizi asked.
"It's the supposed royal lady's name," Nivek said.
Miera glanced toward Serra. "If they do that, Serra will be heartbroken. She admires Safris—she's proud of Fondeur."
Molava, Katizi, and Nivek all turned toward Serra. Serra stepped back, fear in her eyes.