Ceren paused to rest at the top of a small hill and gave her tiny lantern a shake. She grimaced at the pitiful amount of oil remaining.

Not long after leaving Kevlin, she had opened the shutter wide, but it generated only a small pool of light in the rainy darkness. Kevlin would have chided her for taking such a risk, but they had already walked this trail once and she had enough to worry about without imagining monsters lurking in the shadows.

She adjusted her slicker and pulled the hood lower over her face. Despite its protection, her clothes were damp from the pervasive moisture and the deep chill had settled into her bones. Still, it was a favorable spin of the Wheel that Kevlin had found the slickers. She wouldn’t have made it so far otherwise.

Ceren sank down onto a fallen log, her body aching with fatigue. Trudging through the wilderness for the past twenty-four hours had taxed her strength.

Her body craved sleep, but she could not give in yet. She had to keep walking until the lantern consumed the last of the oil or dawn arrived to drive back the darkness. Stifling a yawn, she munched on an apple and a handful of nuts and thought of Kevlin.

What was he up to? She did not doubt he had some plan he didn’t want to tell her about. Whatever it was, she trusted him to be safe, or as safe as anyone could be in that insane situation.

That trust surprised her a little. Kevlin was clearly more than the simple mercenary he pretended to be. When she returned with Harafin, she’d insist on learning the truth about him.

Did he even understand why she had kissed him?

She smiled at the memory of his lips against hers. He’d proven himself to be very clever, so hopefully he wouldn’t read too much into it.

It was clear Kevlin was going to risk his life again. The situation was difficult. She wanted him to be safe but, if he succeeded, would they still need her?

I can do this, she thought, repeating the phrase for the hundredth time that night. It had become the mantra by which she’d trudged for hours through the spooky darkness, the one she’d relied on to hold her terror and worries at bay.

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Very cunning. She winced at the memory of Antigonus’ words to Kevlin. The old sentinel had been right. Kevlin had proven his cunning. As she thought back to each time he had saved them, she asked herself a painful question: What did I do?

What had she contributed? For her, the past couple of days had been a string of failures. She had failed to prevent Haisyl from hurting Antigonus, failed to kill Rhea. She shuddered at the memory of her blade slowly piercing Rhea’s flesh.

She’d never killed anyone before and needing to execute the woman in cold blood had been horrible. It had taken every ounce of will to attempt it, but it still hadn’t been enough.

She had failed to heal Antigonus, failed to think of a way to escape the inn. Failed to save Terach. The memory of his brutal death tore at her heart. He had been such a good man and he’d trusted her to save them.

She’d failed.

Terach had been so strong, but he was gone. She had impulsively embraced him that one time, drawing strength from him. He’d seemed invincible, like a rock, but he was gone, dead because she failed.

Tears ran down her cheeks and she didn’t bother to stifle the sobs that racked her slender frame. Kevlin was not here to see.

“I can do this,” she shouted out loud. Throwing the apple core aside, she rose, took up the lantern, and stomped up the trail.

I am Cunning. Antigonus chose me, not Kevlin.

She would prove herself worthy of the title. She would show them all: Kevlin, Antigonus. . .her father.

She could not let her father down. He doubted her enough already. If she failed again, all of her training and preparation would be a lie, a diversion, a hobby like he’d always claimed.

He had only allowed her to accompany Antigonus when he thought there would be three sentinels in the party to keep her safe. If he knew what had happened, he’d have half the armies of Freyarr tramping through the wilderness to save her.

How embarrassing.

No, she would be strong. She’d make him proud.

“I can do this,” she whispered into the uncaring rain.

She trudged for another hour, despite the deep weariness that clung to her body and soul. She would not stop until she found Sentinel Harafin and warned him of the danger.

Or until her lantern went out.

It began to flicker twenty minutes later and she used the last moments of light to scout for a place to stop. At the prospect of rest, the weariness she’d been holding at bay through sheer willpower crashed in on her, nearly toppling her to the ground in the middle of the trail.

Biting her lip to stay focused, she spied a large deadfall just off the trail. On closer inspection, it was a thick pile of brush grown up against a tree leaning steeply against its neighbors. She pushed some of the brush aside, crawled under the tree and found a spot that, although not exactly dry, was far less wet than anything else she’d seen.

Curling up in her slicker and hugging the still-warm lantern close, she fell asleep in seconds.