Virelai snuck a glance over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't being followed and then turned down the hallway in the opposite direction she’d told her guard she was going.

  After finishing her midday meal, she’d informed him she needed to relieve herself. Alone. If it had been Cylan, she wouldn't have had to make up an excuse at all, but she hadn't seen him in days. Not since their little chat in her rooms.

  Virelai cautiously approached her destination, stepping lightly, so as not to alert anyone to her presence. Pausing outside the door of the meeting room, she pretended to rearrange her skirts. It would only buy her a few seconds to listen, but sometimes a few seconds was all you needed.

  With her marriage to Harloth fast approaching, Virelai would do anything to prevent it, including lowering herself to skulking around and eavesdropping.

  "You will take her and raise her up. We had an agreement. Do I need to remind you of what happens to those who break agreements?"

  The voice came clearly through the door, but Virelai didn't recognize its owner. It was definitely female, but as far as she knew, her father didn't have any female advisers—especially not after he’d given her a lecture on how useless he thought they were, Virelai included.

  "No." Gavaran's voice wobbled in a way she’d never heard before. It was almost like he was afraid. But no . . . that couldn't be right. Her father wasn't afraid of anyone.

  "Good," the female said. "I'll be waiting then."

  The voices ceased, and Virelai hurriedly stepped away from the door lest she be caught eavesdropping.

  She wished Cylan had been with her, so she could have sent him in to find out exactly who was the owner of the mysterious voice. The whole point of being in an alliance was to use his magic in situations like this. Cylan had better have a good explanation to make up for his absence.

  "Is everything all right, my lady?" her guard of the hour asked when she returned to the dining room.

  "Yes, yes, of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

  "You seem disturbed, but perhaps I was mistaken."

  "You were. Everything is fine." She cursed herself for getting distracted and letting her mask slip. "I think I will be returning to my rooms now."

  She informed the guard she would be taking a nap and was not to be disturbed by anyone. Of course, she was going to do no such thing.

  Two hours slipped by, while Virelai attempted to work out who her father had been speaking to. She’d made a list of names of female courtiers, but one by one she scratched them off. None of them seemed likely. None of them would strike fear in her father's heart.

  Virelai crumpled the paper and threw it into the fire, watching as the flames turned it into powder.

  Not only couldn’t she figure out the source of the voice, but she had no idea who the “her” the voice had referred to was and what they had meant by “raise her up”. Raise her up where?

  Outside Virelai’s door came the sound of footsteps approaching, followed by a muted conversation. Then footsteps retreated again.

  Must be the changing of the guard.

  She went back to staring at the fire when a light tap came on her door. Had the previous guard not informed the new one of her instructions not to be disturbed?

  Virelai marched across the room and ripped the door open, ready to berate whoever it was.

  The words died in her throat when her eyes met Cylan's blue ones.

  "Where have you been?" she hissed. "I could have used your help with something earlier."

  "Reassigned." He kept his voice low, so that she had to lean close to hear him. "I had to trade another guard to get this shift. I think someone might have noticed our talk. What was it you needed help with?"

  "Where were you reassigned?" she asked, ignoring his question.

  She doubted anyone had seen them. If someone had reported their suspicious conversation, she was the one most likely to be punished for it. She didn't tell Cylan that, though. A little fear of getting caught would keep him from being too reckless.

  "City patrol," he said.

  Perfect.

  "I need you to do me a favor."

  Wisteria's prayers went unanswered as the soldier stepped closer and spotted her, tucked beneath the bush. He drew his sword and used it to push aside the branches between them. She cringed away as the flat of the blade smacked her shoulder.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "And who might you be?"

  Wisteria stared up at him blankly. How was she going to explain this?

  "Well?" he asked impatiently. "Or can you not talk?"

  "I- uh," Wisteria stammered. "I was sent from Nyrene to see what supplies you might need." It was the first thing that had popped into her head.

  "Is that so?" The soldier raised one brow. "Last I checked, we don't keep our supplies in the bushes. I also happen to know no one is to leave the city, even to check on supplies."

  "Things have changed?" she suggested. The wobble in her voice gave her away.

  The elf snorted. "I don't think so. Now get out here, or I will be forced to drag you out."

  Wisteria extracted herself from the bush to stand before him. She briefly contemplated making a run for it, but decided against it. She doubted she would make it far, and it would make the situation worse in the end.

  If only she’d listened to Virelai. She was a horrible spy. What had she been thinking when she’d thought she could pull this off? Now she had as good as doomed them all.

  "Walk." The soldier pointed to a pole across the camp.

  "What’s going to happen to me?" Wisteria asked in a small voice.

  "That will be entirely up to the king. Next shift change, you will be headed back to Nyrene. Enjoy your stay here because you certainly won't enjoy being back in the city."

  She couldn't let that happen. Gavaran would force her to spill all of her secrets and then take her head as a reward.

  No, that couldn't happen. Virelai had saved her from Gavaran once, but she wasn't here now. It would be up to Wisteria to save herself.

  The soldier made her sit on the muddy ground at the base of the wooden pole while he used a piece of rope to secure her to it. Wisteria pretended not to notice the dark stains on the pole that suggested she wasn't their first prisoner.

  "When is the next shift change?" she asked after the soldier had finished. The dampness from the mud was already leaking into her clothes and raised goosebumps on her arms.

  It was as if she hadn't spoken because the soldier stood and walked away without another word.

  On the bright side, at least now I have a clear view of the camp.

  The nearest human tending a fire kept shooting glances her way, but when Wisteria met her eyes, the woman turned her back.

  The afternoon wore on with little change at the camp. No one came. No one left. The handful of soldiers patrolling the perimeter ignored her completely. Wisteria shifted uncomfortably, trying to relieve the ache in her arms. She half hoped the shift change would be soon because she wasn't sure how much longer she could stand sitting in the mud.

  Then, as the shadows grew long, and the air took on a bite, the rest of the humans returned to camp from wherever they had been. Even in the gloom, Wisteria could tell they were covered in filth from head to toe, as though they hadn't bathed in weeks or maybe even months.

  She watched with interest as more soldiers joined the ones at camp, keeping a sharp eye on the humans.

  Not that any of them seemed to be in any condition to try anything.

  "What do we have here?" one of the new soldiers drawled, approaching her.

  The elf who’d tied her up hurried over. "I found her skulking in the bushes, sir."

  This must be the one in charge of the operation.

  "A spy?"

  The other elf nodded. "She tried to feed me a story that she was here to check on our supplies."

  They laughed, and Wisteria scowled.

  "Stupid girl," the leader spat. "The king will deal with her."

  As the two of them walked away, Wisteria caught sight of a human watching her from a nearby fire. He was studying her so intently he didn't notice when one of the guards walked up behind him.

  "What are you looking at?" the soldier asked, smacking the man across the back with a switch. Wisteria cringed as it made contact.

  "Nothing," the man mumbled, even as his gaze darted back to her. He didn't seem to register the hit.

  "Good. Now eat your meal. I will have no trouble out of you."

  Another human passed a bowl of something into the man's hands, and the guard walked away, satisfied. When he was far enough away, the human turned his face back to Wisteria.

  His attention was making her uncomfortable.

  The rest of the humans in the camp settled in for the night, and the guards seemed to relax and enjoy their own evening meal.

  No one had bothered to feed her.

  Wisteria closed her eyes, trying to ignore the pangs of hunger in her stomach. Maybe she would starve to death before they could take her to Gavaran.

  Her eyes snapped open again at the sound of someone approaching. Probably another soldier come to poke at her.

  To her surprise, it was the human who’d been staring at her. He mumbled something she didn't hear. When she didn't respond, he stepped closer.

  "Sterling?" He looked so hopeful.

  He thought she was someone else.

  Wisteria glanced around, making sure the guards were busy, distracted elsewhere before she answered.

  "No, I'm not Sterling."

  The man's shoulders sagged, and it was like watching the life go out of him. Sterling was obviously someone important to him.

  He turned to go back to the fire he’d been sitting at.

  "Wait," she whispered, hoping he would hear.

  His head turned back, the edges of the firelight illuminating his features. For a moment, Wisteria forgot what she intended to say. There was something so familiar about his face.

  "Who is Sterling?" Wisteria asked softly, keeping one eye on the closest guards.

  The man continued to stare at her, and she wondered if he’d even heard her. Just when she was about to open her mouth and repeat her question, he spoke.

  "She’s my daughter. One of my missing daughters. You look a bit like her with your light hair. Her hair is silver, though."

  Silver hair. Wisteria stared at him open-mouthed as his words sunk in. Silver hair like Prince Kaimana . . . like his sister. But no. It couldn't be, could it?

  She had to ask. "Is your other daughter named Seraiah?" It would explain why this man looked familiar to her.

  The man's eyes widened. "Yes. Do you—do you know her?" He approached her again, not paying any mind to the soldiers.

  "I do," Wisteria whispered back. "Or I did. She was here, but she isn't anymore. She was looking for her sister, and I think she might have found her. If you help me get free, I can help you find them."

  His face was so filled with hope she almost hated promising that. She hadn't the slightest idea if she could find Seraiah or Sterling, wherever they were, but she would need someone else's help if she planned to get out of here.

  "Of course," he breathed. "I will do anything. Tell me what you need."

  Her eyes darted to the soldiers. Any moment now, they would turn around and discover them talking.

  "I need to know when the next shift change is."

  "It's in two days."

  Two days. She still had some time then.

  "Do you think you could create a distraction? Something to keep their focus," she gestured with her chin, "elsewhere."

  He nodded slowly. "I think so."

  "Good. Then I think I have a plan to get us out of here."