Traitor.

Nales was a traitor.

The forest raced by, a rush of blues and grays, leaves and branches slapping at her knees and shoulders. She hardly felt the raw gasp of her breath. Her mind hung in a cloud of panic, anger, and shaking, primal fear, as if the entire world had narrowed into a tunnel in her head. Raging. Fuming.

Screaming.

Gods, what the fuck had just happened? Nales had spoken to that demon, and then—

What in the ten unholy hells had that kiss on her head been? Not sexual, that was for sure, but more a promise—or perhaps a farewell?

Her heart stopped.

Had he been saying goodbye?

No, no, he’d definitely told her to come find him. If she could read through his words correctly. Had he been play-acting? Gods, she wished she knew what was going through his mind.

No. He’s just like the rest of his family—an ambitious, self-centered prick. He is a traitor.

A branch snagged on her broken elbow. She screamed as pain smashed through her, ringing thought her flesh like the vibration of a gong, so hard and sudden, it blinked out her vision in a flash of white.

“Fuck!”

She swallowed her yell, her voice turning to a growl in her chest and throat. The white flash subsided into tiny darts in her vision, prickling at the edges. Pain wracked through her arm in a second wave, overlapping the initial burst like a burn of fire through the inside of her flesh.

Her breath whistled through her teeth.

She slowed to a stop and bent over, breathing hard.

Get a hold of yourself, rnari. You are in the Twelfth Circle—act like it.

The forest was quiet around her. Still. No wind breathed through the trees, and not a single leaf moved. It felt as though all of the animals had gone into hiding. Even the insects were still.

Sweat was beginning to chill against her skin. Her clothes felt hot and clammy in places, the pain in her arm slowly dulling into a searing, angry numbness.

She collected herself. Calmed the race and spin of her mind.

Nales’ voice ran through her mind again.

‘Lord Grobitzsnak is wise and benevolent. I made a deal with him. You would be wise to do the same. He has agreed to give you one week to return to the Raidt and give them news of his rising. They can either join him in life, or die and join him in death.’

She remembered the tone of it—cutting, diffident. As if it was an obvious choice.

Gods. He couldn’t possibly believe for one second that the Raidt would bow down to some demon. The Raidt never bowed. Even against the demon blade of his ancestor, their surrender and subjugation had been won in blood and a long, ruthless siege.

She took a slow, steadying breath.

Maybe he was stupid. And had, stupidly, betrayed them. Just like a Cizek.

She closed her eyes, feeling the anger burn.

I am going to kill him.

The violence of it was particularly surprising to her—hot, burning, no hesitation. Like she were already carrying out the deed. She could already feel herself lashing out, smashing the blade of her palm into the soft parts of his side, breaking a few ribs. The ill-advised, but oh-so-satisfying crunch of her hand smashing into his face, breaking his nose even further. Cutting into him with the sharp edges of her rnari blades. Forcing him to collapse in a bleeding, screaming gurgle.

She shoved the urges down. Going still, she took a moment to slow the spin of her thoughts and reconnect with the world, focusing on the scent of earth and leaves around her.

Then, she put one foot in front of the other and made her way back to their campfire.

It had been doused, only the faintest trace of smoke permeating the air—Doneil still remembered his ranger training, it seemed. A quick check of her woodcraft found them fifty paces away with the horses, waiting for her.

She strode straight to them, slipping through the trees like a ghost.

Matteo jumped at her arrival, and the muzzle of his firearm flashed in her direction before he checked it. She ignored him, already reaching for the dark silhouette of her mare with her good arm.

“Nales is a traitor. The fey are all dead. He and the demon have gone off together.” She tensed her jaw against the waver that threatened in her voice and fumbled the leather braid of her reins with her one good hand. At least the mare didn’t spook at her arrival. Horses had better perception than even elves did. “There’s a giant, demonic fortress in the middle of the forest. I assume they’ve gone there.”

She could feel Doneil’s gaze behind her, pricking her skin like a perceptive hot iron. He shifted, a slight scrape of the ground on the sole of his boot.

“A traitor?” he asked.

She winced at his tone, the disbelief catching at her mind like a barb.

“He has demon blood. The fey said so, and he revealed as much.” Her intake of breath hissed past her teeth. Drying blood stuck to her arm. She tensed her shoulder against a spike of pain from her broken bones. “He and Demon Lord Grobitzsnak made some sort of deal and let me go.” Her upper lip twisted, baring her teeth. “I’m going to kill him.”

She heard more than saw his frown. “Wouldn’t he prefer you dead, if he were a traitor? Seems simpler.”

“He wanted me to take a message to the Raidt, organize their surrender…” she trailed off, her brows furrowing. It sounded even more stupid when she said it out loud—and Nales was not that stupid.

Doneil was right. It would make more sense to have her dead. Especially with the demon’s necromancy kick.

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Her skin crawled at the thought.

She shivered and let out a breath.

“Maybe he thinks I’m just a weak little underling. Too small to hurt him.”

Doneil didn’t move. She could still feel his eyebrows arch.

“Catrin, I don’t think anyone could mistake you for weak.”

She ground her teeth in consternation. He was right, of course. She was a Twelfth Circle rnari warrior. Even Grobitzsnak had recognized her strength.

Her mind twitched back to the shut-tight expression on Nales’ face, the tangle of fear she’d felt behind his mask. The slow, deliberate tone to his words. The touch of his lips murmuring into her ear.

‘You’ll have to find me first, underling.’

He’d shown precisely zero romantic interest in her before—that, she knew for sure. Ever since her infamous encounter with Tarris, she’d looked for it and done her very best to shut it down. Nales had shown professional interest, yes, but, even in her wildest, most paranoid schemes, none of it had ever been even remotely romantic.

And he’d called her Cat.

He knew she didn’t like it.

Something was going on.

She growled through her teeth. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Yes, yes. All right, rnari.” Doneil raised his hands up in mock surrender and cast an eye-roll toward the canopy. “You’re very scary. Now—sun’s holy ass—stay still and let me heal that arm.”

Her breath expulsed in a noisy fume. She sagged against the saddle, the smoothness of its hard leather against her forehead. Doneil moved in next to her. A sharp pain rang out when he took her arm, then the healing took over. She gritted her teeth, hearing a sharp hiss as his power told him exactly how badly her wrist had been mangled.

“You know this is the second time this week you’ve broken this arm, right?”

She grunted, teeth grinding as the healing magic crawled through her flesh. “I think I preferred the last time.”

“Yes. Treng, at least, broke it evenly.” He swore under his breath. “Tits, Catrin. What did this to you?”

“The fey,” she said.

There was a pause. She could feel his brain working.

“They attacked you before they died?”

She frowned. Then, she played her own speech over in her head from the beginning.

Ah. She’d left that part out.

“They’re undead. Reanimated and controlled by the demon lord.” A shiver ran through her when she remembered the feeling of cold flesh gripping her skin.

Doneil swore. “Ten fucking hells. Are you serious?”

“As a tombrat.” She spared a glance to Matteo. He was still there, playing silent guard with his gun turned toward the forest, but obviously keeping a close eye on their tone and expressions. He caught her glance with one of his, the concern clear on his face.

“What are you going to do?” Doneil asked. “Back to Pemberlin?”

“To Pemberlin?” She almost laughed. “Fuck me. You think I can? Without the prince? No. You can, though. They’ll need to know.”

Doneil pinned her with a stare. “Not what I asked. What are you going to do?”

She stopped. She hadn’t really thought of that.

I’m going to murder him.

Okay, so maybe she had thought of it. In rather gruesome detail. But there was still a lot that didn’t add up. Even more now that the pain wasn’t clouding her mind. Why would Nales let her go? Doneil was right—she was far too strong to be left alone. No one wanted a rnari on their trail, let alone one from the Twelfth Circle. Was this all some power play on the demon’s part? And, that aside, why would he go with the demon? What was he planning?

Had he really betrayed them?

Or—and this was now seeming more logical the longer she thought of it—had he pulled a fast one on the demon in order to get her released?

Her forehead wrinkled as she thought back to the heated exchange they’d had this morning.

They hadn’t known each other very long, but that strange play of betrayal did not seem in character for him. Rather the opposite.

And he definitely wasn’t stupid enough to let her go.

In fact, she could think of a multitude of things that made more sense than to have her alive and at large.

Especially since Nales knew she’d just come back here and be instantly healed and ready to attack.

“Fuck.” She grimaced. “I might have to go after him.” She paused. “I may or may not kill him once I find him.”

“Oh-kay,” Doneil said. “Sounds like someone’s getting less grouchy. Next steps?”

With the last two words, his voice dropped its normal friendliness, switching to the hard professionalism she recognized from the ranks.

He was walking her through it. She appreciated it.

“Leave the horses here. We’ll bring a minimum of supplies and check out the demon lair, do some reconnaissance. See if there might be a chance of getting him out.” Her gaze slipped to Matteo. “You think we should leave him with the horses?”

“Nah, bring him with. He can hold his own.” Doneil’s lips pursed as he considered the man. “Is the demon lair obvious?”

She snorted. “Yes. It’s a big fucking castle with demons coming out of it.”

“In that case, I think it will be possible to communicate our intentions. He can choose to come with, or not.”

Her eyebrow twitched as she rubbed at her arm. “You sure that’s a good idea? He’s not exactly… one of us.”

“He trounced me pretty good earlier,” Doneil pointed out. “And he’s got that firearm.”

She winced, remembering what she’d read of guns. “That’d be noisy.”

“But useful, in an emergency. We have no other ranged weapons. I’ll give him one of my blades. You’d be better off with both of yours. Deadlier.”

She didn’t even bother arguing. From a logical standpoint, he was right. Plus, he also had a working fire spell he could use.

“Good,” she said. “Let’s pack up and go, then.”