Shadowguard

Dain and Adela, who'd woken up at some point, were waiting for them on the outskirts of the village.

"You kill 'em?" Dain asked, eying their bloody and tattered armor.

"Both of them," Lisette affirmed.

Dain nodded once, his face set with grim approval. Adela said nothing, but her shoulders sagged with relief.

As they began preparing for their departure, Everna stood off to the side, half-listening to the bickering. They'd brought three horses, and with four more people tagging along for the return trip, balancing weight distribution would be no easy feat — not when half of them had their own set of conditions they wouldn't compromise on. Vina refused to ride with anyone but Wil. Dain would not let Adela leave his side. Everna couldn't care less who she rode with; if it meant returning to the safe house quicker, she'd suffer riding with Vina.

She could always push her off the horse if she became too annoying.

In the end, and after Wil reminded them all that he was, technically, Osain's second in command, logic reigned. Lisette, being the smallest of them, shared the largest of the three horses with Dain and Adela. Cedric hauled himself into the saddle behind Vina, much to her dismay, though Cedric didn't seem all that displeased with the arrangement. Everna found herself astride Esazia once more, Wil controlling the reigns from behind.

A precaution, he insisted. Shroud might have other agents in the area, and the arrangement would allow him to deal with the situation while leaving her in a position where she could easily take control of the horse. It sounded more like a flimsy excuse to get under Vina's skin.

If looks could kill, the glare Vina gave her would've taken her head off.

That unpleasant thought prompted a question she'd been meaning to ask. "What's an Enforcer?"

"Shroud has ranks," Wil said. "If you compare it to the Guard, they're the lowest-ranking officers."

"But far more dangerous," Cedric cut in. "They're changed. Living artifacts. They carve runes into their bodies that alter their physical capabilities. It's as unpleasant as it sounds."

Everna suppressed a shudder.

"You're lucky to be alive if even Wil couldn't handle it," Lisette said. "Though, I'm surprised he couldn't. He's slacking."

"You try fighting while having to split your attention between an Enforcer and a dazed barmaid. It's not that easy."

"Excuses. Still, Everna, how the hell did you pull that off? Uninjured, at that."

"She caught him — both of us — by surprise," Wil said before she could answer. "He didn't expect her to shake off the spell as quickly as she did."

"Expected it or not, unless she was on top of him or something—"

"She was."

Lisette rolled her eyes. "I should've known. She's insane."

"I'm perfectly sane," Everna muttered.

"You burnt down an entire goblin village and then had the audacity to tell a cavernbrute to eat his own servants," she countered. "You are absolutely insane."

Cedric turned to face his sister, his eyes wide. "What?"

"Oh, you'll love this," she said, bemused. "Vina fainted."

As Lisette launched into a wildly exaggerated retelling of the incident, Everna sighed. She had neither the will nor the energy to correct her. She could've left out the failed Liquid Fire attempt, though.

As the conversation dragged on, devolving into heated arguments between Vina, Lisette, and Cedric, Everna turned to observe the plains. The clouds had cleared now, the late afternoon sun bearing down upon them. Even the chilled winds flowing down from the mountains couldn't stave off the heat. Unable to bear it any longer, she pulled the first few clasps of her armor loose. The breeze felt like heaven against her sweaty skin, and it did wonders to calm the ceaseless churning of her stomach.

She shouldn't regret killing Shroud's agent, not after what they did to Windhollow. He deserved it, and when her blade tore through his thought, that was the only thought in her head. It wasn't murder; it was justice.

Yet each time she glimpsed the blood crusted on the sleeves of her leathers, a fresh wave of bitter guilt pitted in her chest. He deserved it — he absolutely did — but though she assured herself of that, it didn't matter.

She killed someone.

Eager to derail her thoughts, Everna turned to peer over her shoulder at Wil. "Who told you I'd be the one who killed Mayor Ashburn?"

Wil's eyes widened, then he sent Lisette a withering glare. "We don't know."

"You don't know, and you took it seriously?"

"We get anonymous tips all the time," Wil said. "We have to take them seriously; most of the time they're right. This time, though, I can't tell if it was purposefully wrong."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He hesitated, his lips pressed together. "Either someone meant to distract us or give you a fighting chance. I was so preoccupied with watching you I didn't realize what had happened until it was too late."

"I would think one look at me would've told you otherwise," she argued.

"It's more often than you think that the pretty little waitress or barmaid is responsible. Who else would have both the benefit of the doubt and the opportunity?"

If she were in her right mind, she'd have focused on the first part a bit more. The odd compliment rolled off her like water on a duck's back, hardly more than a passing thought as she further considered the implications of his words. She'd dealt with several hypothetical cases where an unassuming chambermaid turned out to be the culprit. Many suspected it was a scorned scullery maid who'd assassinated King Keeland.

Still, the victim in her case wasn't a lazy, arrogant noble but one of Inverness's renowned heroes.

"Between your association with Mayor Ashburn, your parents owning the tavern, and your education, you made for the ideal suspect. You knew the victim — he seemed to trust you, at that — and you'd know what the Inquisitors would look for."

"What, did you think I put my sword in there to incriminate myself?"

"Self-framing is more common than you think it is. The truly clever ones frame themselves and their scapegoat, and leave the scapegoat holding the bag. When you started arguing with Captain Windmore, I thought that's what happened."

"And what made you change your mind?"

He was quiet for a moment. "The Guard post."

If there were any point to cast aside his suspicions, it would be in the face of Windmore's blatant admission of guilt.

"Speaking of, there's nothing Shadowguard can do about that?" she asked.

He shook his head. "That's the problem with Shroud. Removing one person won't make a difference. For your sake, it's best we hang back and gather enough information to take them all out in one fell swoop, or cut off the head of the snake. Windmore proved they'll keep trying until they get what they want. They'll keep killing people until there's so much stacked against you that even a full pardon from the Crown couldn't get you out of it."

No longer in the mood to entertain the conversation further, Everna let it end there.

Despite Vina's incessant protest, they rode as far into the night as the horses allowed — a choice they didn't regret. Just after sunset, the aurora lit the night sky, ribbons of blue and green and pink dancing above the mountain peaks. They were brighter than she expected, bathing the plains in false twilight and drowning out the stars.

In Pendel, they were shifting blurs of color painted across the distant horizon. Looking up at them now, she saw the subtle ripples in the ribbons, the sharp lines of vibrant color that reached into the heavens above. If she weren't so tired, she might have spared the lights more than a few fleeting glances before nodding off in the saddle.

It was well after midnight, the crescent moon high in the sky, when they finally slowed the horses to a stop. They ate the rest of the apples she and Lisette picked the day before and fed the cores to the horses. Everna ate slowly, her stomach painfully protesting each bite. At least if she did finally vomit, her stomach wouldn't be completely empty.

While the others sorted out the watch pattern, Everna flung herself onto the grass. Exhaustion seeped from her every pore, clinging to her like a heavy blanket. The ground was as uncomfortable as the saddle, hard on her back, and strands of grass tickled at her skin. Tucking one arm behind her head, she allowed her eyes to slip closed as she fell into the welcoming embrace of sleep.