By the time evening falls, my head reels with the information Somre has stuffed into it. He’s a demanding teacher—worse than Edlan—accepting no less than the best I can offer and giving little praise in return. But for the first time since leaving Vallegat, I know what I’m doing. My hands remember how to handle the herbs, and I soak up the new knowledge he provides like parched earth in a rainstorm. I am almost sorry when Six shows up to bring me to supper.

“We’ll eat in the meal tent,” he explains, leading me from the infirmary.

“What about Somre?”

Six gives me a crooked grin. “He’ll eat with the officers. And he’ll probably spend most of the meal sharing what he’s learned about you.”

“Nothing interesting,” I say.

“Leave that to Bayal and the other officers to decide.”

He leads me through the unit, where many of the tents I noticed earlier have already been taken down. “Are there only tents?” I ask. “You don’t have any permanent buildings?”

“The unit’s mobile,” Six explains. “Bayal has us relocate every so often to keep us in practice in case something like this ever comes up. Once we receive word from Elni, we’ll be able to travel immediately.”

Six leads me to a long, low tent held up by wooden posts as thick as trees. A pleasant buzz of conversation drifts out of it, along with the clattering of bowls on tables and the scraping of benches being drawn out. Six waves to a few of the men as we enter, calling out greetings as we pass. I keep my head down, falling into line behind Six as he moves up to the counter where half a dozen men are serving food.

Trays in hand, we move through the aisles to join the other rangers at a table they’ve claimed near the back corner. Redge is in the middle of a story, sitting with his back to us and gesturing wildly as he speaks. His voice is a vibrant, cheerful red, bright as a new rose. “I’ve never seen anyone move so fast,” he laughs. “Least of all Iorin.”

“You’d move just as quickly if you’d found a snake in your bag,” Iorin says.

“It turned out just to be a belt,” Redge snickers. “No one could top Jayr’s sense of humor.”

“Who’s Jayr?” I whisper, but Orami spots us and waves before Six can answer.

“We thought you’d gotten lost with all the tents going down.”

“I’ve been here longer than you have,” Six says. Orami and Iorin laugh, but Redge goes stiff. Six sits across from Iorin and digs immediately into his meal, leaving me to take the seat across the table from Redge.

“I was talking to Brennr,” Orami says. “He doesn’t know the way.”

“He can’t go unescorted,” Redge says, his voice darkening to the crimson of autumn leaves. His eyes drift to me, dark and unwavering as he gathers up his bowl. “He can’t be trusted.”

He pushes himself up from the table, drops his bowl into a bucket on the counter, and stalks out of the tent. Iorin casts an embarrassed look toward me and gets up to follow.

I watch them go, my stomach sinking. “What did I do?”

“Can’t say,” Thare says, slurping down the rest of his stew and getting to his feet. “Wouldn’t worry.” He turns to deposit his own bowl in the bucket and disappears after the others.

“Is he upset with me too?” I ask. My voice comes out strained, and I hate how transparent it must make me.

But Six shakes his head without looking up from his bowl. “Thare doesn’t care what people think about him,” he says, poking at a piece of meat. “To him, it really is as simple as putting the matter from your mind.”

My gaze falls back to the table, and Six taps my bowl with his spoon. “I’m sure Iorin is talking to him. He’s the only one Redge really listens to.”

“Why is that?”

Six shrugs. “Iorin’s his older brother. Redge respects him enough to listen, once he calms down.”

That explains the resemblance. I wish it extended to Redge’s personality as well.

“Redge is a friendly man,” Six goes on. “In time, he’ll remember that.”

“How long have you known them?”

“About a year,” he says, taking another bite. “Thare, Redge, and Iorin were already rangers, but they worked separately. Bayal sent them out when he needed scouting done, but there was no need for a formal group. When I joined up with the unit, I fell in as a ranger because I hadn’t had the same training as the others, and the group formed around me. Orami joined us about six months later, and it’s been the same ever since.”

“For a year?”

“For a year.” When I am silent, he adds, “Iorin and Redge might be kin by blood, but as far as I’m concerned, we’re all brothers.”

“We take care of each other,” Orami agrees. “It’s how things are done here.”

I study my stew. The camaraderie that binds the rangers is like that of the boys in my quarter, and I was exempt from both groups. If I would have known how lonely I’d feel away from them, I never would have resisted Kjerrin’s and Bronhold’s attempts to befriend me in the fort.

Ieldran, who could have foretold I’d feel lonely for Bronhold’s company?

“Don’t worry,” Six says as my silence lengthens. “You’ll return to your own family soon. Bayal said it would only take a few days for our message to reach Aquillis in Elni, and then a few more to receive a response. In a week, you could be back home.”

“Are you sure the king will give permission to act?” I ask.

“Bayal thinks so.”

“He told you that?”

“Yes. He summoned me a few hours ago to ask about you, and we talked of the messenger as well.”

I frown, and Six lifts dark eyebrows at my expression. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just…” I hesitate, but he waves his spoon in an invitation to continue. “Just… it seems like the captain puts a lot of trust in your thoughts.”

“That’s because I’m trustworthy.”

I want to be annoyed at his flippant response, but Orami’s answering laugh is such a bright, summery green that I can’t summon the emotion. “I thought it was strange, too, at first,” Orami says, still smiling. “Sometimes it seems like Six speaks to the captain more than the officers do. But he does most of the reporting for us, so it’s only natural that Captain Bayal relies on Six’s observations.”

“Life here is immediate,” Six says, watching my reaction. “This is the only Ielic unit for leagues around. We have to be able to rely on each other, no matter what happens. Without trust in Bayal, or his trust in us, none of this works.”

His story about Belendres Pathmaker pulls at my mind. She trusted the men in her life, and look at what happened to her.

I can’t afford to make the same mistake.

“Have you always been a healer?” Orami asks. His question jolts me out of my thoughts, and I blink at him as I process his question.

He lifts his hand, which is wrapped in a fresh bandage. “One of Somre’s assistants looked at it. He said you were clever to use the moss to stop the infection. You must have extensive training. It’s what you’ve always wanted to do?”

I nod, and he goes on without pausing.

“I’ve always wanted to be a soldier. My brothers are—all four of them—and I knew I’d follow in their footsteps. Was it the same for you?”

His eyes are so bright, and his expression so open and waiting, that I can’t keep my silence. “I became an apprentice when I was a child.”

“Was it because of your burn?” Orami asks.

I close my hand, cutting off his view of my scar, but he talks on as if I haven’t moved. “A few years ago, there was a fire in my village. I’ve seen a lot of scars like yours.” He breaks off, green eyes flaring wide. “Oh—I didn’t mean to pry. I just wondered if—well, people have reasons for doing what they do, don’t they? I thought maybe it was your reason.”

“Some people don’t like to share their entire life story with strangers,” Six says mildly, without taking his eyes from his meal.

Orami frowns. “But we’re not strangers. Not anymore.”

That, more than anything else, compels me to answer. “My teacher explained what he was doing while he treated me,” I say. “I found it interesting and wanted to learn more. After I healed, he agreed to keep me on as an apprentice.”

“That’s amazing,” Orami says. “To study something that long… I think I’d lose interest.”

“You haven’t lost interest in fighting,” Six says.

Orami takes a bite of stew and chews thoughtfully. “I suppose not, but that’s different. My brothers were always there to teach me. It wasn’t just something to learn—it was something we did together.”

“Are they here, too?” I ask.

“No,” Orami says, and a blue wisp of wistfulness pulls at his voice. “They’re all in different units. I hoped to be stationed with one of them, but…” He leans close, putting his forehead almost to mine. “I lied about my age to enlist earlier, and I may have exaggerated my abilities during recruitment. They sent me to the Border Infantry to be a runner, instead of any of the units I requested.”

“You may have exaggerated your fighting skills,” Six says. “But not your speed. You’re easily the fastest in the unit.”

Orami leans back, beaming. “Maybe, but I probably should have waited. They might have let me pick my unit if I was older.”

“Then we wouldn’t have you,” Six says, reaching out to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Now finish your supper. The next shift will be in soon, and they’ll need the table.”

When our bowls are empty, Six pushes away from the table and stretches. “Put your bowl there,” he tells me. “Then we’ll head back to our tent. There’s room for you with the rangers tonight.”

“I’m to stay with you?” I ask.

“Where else would you stay?”

I narrow my eyes at Six as Orami leads the way outside. “Is it so you can keep an eye on me?”

He gives me a crooked smile. “Yes. And because you need a place to sleep, and we have room. I volunteered.”

“That won’t make Redge happy,” I murmur.

“Redge doesn’t speak for everyone.”

“Do you?”

“Sometimes,” he says. Faint light from the setting sun washes over the bruise on his cheek, drawing out the yellows in the healing tissue. “Either way, this is an order from Captain Bayal. Even Redge won’t question that.”

I don’t know if I believe him, but I have little choice except to follow Orami and Six to the small camp the rangers have set up at the edge of the unit. It’s just a low tent and a fire, but the casual greens of friendly conversation that rise from the silhouetted rangers make a ball of homesickness tighten in my chest.

“Our fearless leader returns,” Iorin calls as we approach. He offers me a smile before moving over to make room on the log he’s using as a bench. Beside him, Redge scowls and puts his hands on his knees as if he’s about to get up.

“Don’t bother,” I tell him, wishing I had found a way to get into the tent without him seeing me. “I’ll go to bed early.”

I turn without waiting to see his reaction and duck into the tent, fastening it wordlessly behind me. Iorin’s quiet voice drifts to me from the fire. “Is he joining us now?”

“Bayal wants someone to look after him,” Six says.

“Guard him, you mean,” Redge grumbles.

Six’s voice takes on a steel-blue edge. “He needs a place to sleep, doesn’t he?”

“I don’t mind,” Orami puts in. “Thare never sleeps inside, anyway, so there’s plenty of room.”

He’s right. The interior is large enough to accommodate the five rangers and their packs, with a little extra room for me besides. More murmurs reach my ears from outside, but I tune them out as I ease the pack from my shoulders and find an empty spot on the ground, indulging in a small, self-pitying sigh.

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A shadow passes over the side of the tent before Six steps inside. “I see you’ve found a place,” he says. “If the others come in, they’ll sleep over there. They all have their spots already.”

“You don’t have to come in,” I say, not bothering to keep the bitterness from my voice. “You can see the door from the fire. It’s not as though I can go anywhere.”

“You could cut a hole in the fabric and escape out the back,” he says.

I drop the bedroll I’d been unrolling. “Why would I do that? I have no supplies, no map, no way of helping the villagers on my own. My brother—”

“I was joking,” Six says, holding up his hand to stop me. “I don’t think you’ll try to leave. I told Bayal as much, but he has to make it look like you’re under guard for the benefit of the others. They trust him to keep them safe, and they don’t know you’re harmless.”

“I wouldn’t say harmless,” I grumble.

Six kneels beside me and busies himself with unrolling his blankets. “No, not harmless. But without the intent to harm.”

“You can’t know that for sure,” I say, fumbling with the sword belt on my waist.

He doesn’t answer. I set the sword down beside my bedroll, keeping my eyes on my work, and wishing I had better control over my foul mood. I’m already little more than a prisoner. I shouldn’t be putting more reasons to distrust me into his head.

“I know this has been difficult for you,” Six says at last. The solemn blue-gray in his voice makes me look up, and I find him watching me with an unreadable expression. “You were torn away from your family, forced to flee from your own army, left with no one to trust but your enemy.” He smooths out his bedroll and quirks up one side of his mouth in a crooked smile. “Maybe you can’t trust me yet—that’s understandable—but I know what it’s like to be friendless in a strange place. And I want you to know that you’re not.”

I tuck my bedroll into the corner of the tent, trying to think of something to say. Not friendless. I haven’t felt not friendless since leaving Mjera. Aze was busy with his training at the fort, and my secrets put a barrier between me and the other villagers. Even Chass was more of an ally than a friend. I don’t know what to do with Six’s offer, not when I’m still hiding so much from him.

When I don’t answer, Six tugs the corner of my blankets to move them away from the entrance. “It’ll be best to stay on this side of me. Orami doesn’t always watch where he’s stepping.”

I look at him, still searching for a way to express my tangle of thoughts, but he lies down with his back to me before I can summon the words. Maybe that’s for the best. I won’t be here long, anyway—it wouldn’t make sense to form any real attachments.

Whispering a prayer for Aze’s safety, I pull off my boots and burrow into my blankets. We’re at the base of the mountain, and the night isn’t as cold as it was at the fort. I curl onto my side with my back to Six’s, listening to the soft noises outside. The voices of the rangers drone and blend, melting into the crackling of the fires and the calls of night birds. They’re the same birds that winter in Vallegat, and they sing now as if beckoning me home. Maybe it would be better to return after all. Just being an apprentice wouldn’t be so bad. I’ve had enough of traveling and excitement. The villagers will all be home, and life will go back to the way it was before.

Except that I’m still a traitor. Maybe the others will be welcomed back, but me? At least I’ll get to see Aze first. The thought calms me enough that I can drift to sleep with the soothing sound of Six’s breathing in my ear.

***

Cold metal presses against the back of my neck. Captain Oristel’s words cut through me, fracturing into sharp echoes that stab again and again through my chest: His true loyalties lie with those who would challenge the Grand General.

I try to lift my head to search for Aze, but the edge of the blade bites through my skin—lodges between the bones in my spine.

Waits.

I suck in a breath to scream, but my lungs are frozen inside my ribs. I can’t speak. I can’t Wordweave, and the pressure leaves my neck as Oristel raises his sword, and I can’t—

“Brennr.”

A sobbing gasp rips through me, shattering the ice around my lungs. Air pours in, cold as the sword on my neck, but it’s not enough. Blood runs down the side of my throat—I have to stop the bleeding. I claw at my scarf, but another pair of hands grabs mine, and a face materializes from the darkness before me.

“Breathe,” Six says, pulling my fists against his chest. “It was a dream, Brennr. You’re safe.”

His heart pounds beneath my hands, a steady rhythm that breaks through the panic. The tension drains from me, but his grip keeps me upright. “Good,” he says, flattening my limp fingers over his chest. “Feel my breaths—good—match me.”

He takes an exaggerated breath through his nose, and I do my best to copy him as his ribs expand under my palms. His linen shirt sticks to the sweat on my bare hand. Sweat, then, not blood. It was a dream.

I’m on my knees with my blanket twisted around my legs, though I don’t remember sitting up. Pale light shines through the tent walls, but it’s still too dark to see anything more than Six’s outline. He’s crouching before me, his body only inches from mine, and—Ieldran, I’m still pressed against his chest, still letting his grounding breaths sink through me.

I pull my hands free, mortified. “I’m sorry,” I gasp, barely remembering to use the male form of the words before they’re out of my mouth.

He settles back on his bedroll. “Don’t be,” he says, completely relaxed, as though he’s just woken up to a pleasant, normal morning and not the chaos I’ve subjected him to.

“I don’t…” I sink back on my heels, covering my mouth with my gloved hand. “I’ve never…”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Six says gently. “After what you’ve been through, nightmares are to be expected.”

If my face gets any hotter, I think it might burst into actual flames. “You were there too,” I croak. “And you didn’t…”

“Not this time,” he says, glancing away. “But I’ve gone through this before. When I started sharing a tent with the others, nobody could sleep near me. I’d kick in my sleep or wake with a knife in my hand… They had to hide the weapons at night for the first few months I was here.”

I lower my hand until they’re both resting in my lap. “Why?”

“Because they didn’t want me to accidentally stab anyone who was trying to wake me up.”

I make a face. “Why did you have the nightmares?”

He leans back on one hand and runs the other through his hair, which is still mussed from sleep. “My family was attacked in an Awnian raid,” he says, dark violet streaking through his voice. “I made it out with my little sister, but we didn’t get far. They killed her while I was sleeping. I escaped and found my way here, but I haven’t slept well since.”

“Ieldran…” I whisper, my chest still tight with remembered fear. “I’m so sorry.”

He suffered from insomnia when we found him, Somre had said. No wonder he had. How many nights did he wake up in a panic, alone in a strange place, feeling phantom blood on his skin and unable to take a full breath?

He clears his throat, a flush creeping through his voice. “Every time I woke from a dream, I remember feeling untethered, like there was nothing holding me to the earth. Somre taught me to control my breathing, but sometimes I wished… I thought it would have been easier if I could feel someone breathing with me.”

My stomach twists, and I almost reach out to take his hands the way he’d taken mine. But the embarrassment is still there, so I only move to adjust my scarf until it covers the ring again. “Thank you,” I say quietly. “It helped.”

He smiles. A snort across the tent makes me jump, but it’s only Orami—he rolls over in his sleep, still snoring, oblivious to the spectacle I’ve made of myself. The others are gone already, or else they never came in.

Six wrinkles his nose. “I normally don’t allow the rangers to sleep this late.”

It’s an obvious offer to change the subject, and I accept it gratefully. “Do you have much to do today?”

“Training,” he shrugs. “And preparing for the move. There’s always plenty to do.”

“Am I to return to Somre?”

Six crawls from his blankets and stretches. “Yes. Come along, I’ll take you.”

We find the physician muttering over a table as he shuffles groups of leaves and roots into pouches. He glances up as we enter and squints across the distance. “Larkspur?”

“With Brennr,” Six says.

“Don’t leave yet,” he says, patting his hands clean of dirt. “If there’s going to be a battle, we’ll need more herbs. The winter has been long and my dried supplies are running low. I want to have some fresh herbs before we move out.”

“Not much grows in the mountains at this time of year,” I say.

“Some survive the cold,” Somre says. “Rosemary, for instance, and thyme. Even some mint will thrive buried beneath the snow. I haven’t the time to spend traipsing around the woods searching for them. Take that.”

He nods at a satchel and looks back at his table again. “You know what to look for.”

I shoulder the satchel and follow Six from the infirmary, relishing in the familiar weight of the bag against my hip. “Is this another test?” I ask.

“It’s hard to say with Somre,” Six says. “It could be a test or a whim. We may never know. Where are these herbs you’re supposed to find?”

“In the forest, most likely,” I answer. “I’m not familiar with the area, so I can’t say for sure.”

“Of course not. That would be too easy.”

“Don’t you like the forest?” I ask, jogging to walk beside him. “A ranger must spend most of his time there.”

He looks at me without turning his head. “That doesn’t mean he has to enjoy it.”

“Why did you become a ranger if you didn’t want to be in the forest?”

Another look, this one somewhat shrewd—as if he’s trying to discern the reason for my question. “When I joined, I didn’t have the training to be a soldier. However, I knew a little about swordsmanship and archery, so rather than training me on my own they set me up with the rangers. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

“You didn’t enlist with a group?” I ask.

“No.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and I remember what he said about joining after his family had been killed. Though I burn with questions, I swallow them back and look down at the sword on his belt. “Are you any good with that?”

A smile quirks up one corner of his mouth. “Is that a challenge?”

“I haven’t had any training,” I remind him. “You’ve been a ranger for a year. That would hardly be a fair contest.”

“I suppose not. Then are you looking for a tutor?”

“I’m a healer.”

“A healer can’t protect himself?”

“I suppose. But who has the time to find a reliable teacher?”

The smile on his face broadens. “I’m sure we can find someone. For a price.”

“What price?”

“What have you got?”

Though my tone had been light before, a little of the fun goes out of the bantering. “Nothing,” I say, trying to keep my voice from getting too heavy. “Everything I brought from home is back at the fort. They’ve probably gotten rid of it by now.”

Six nudges my arm with his elbow. “Don’t get so serious. You have skills to trade, don’t you?”

I bristle. “Wordweaving isn’t some kind of—”

“That’s not what I meant either,” Six interrupts, holding up his hands. “I meant cooking or healing or... or something else you can do.” He gestures toward a man sitting on his own with a sock draped over one knee and a needle and thread in his hands. “Sewing is always useful. We’re only given three pairs of stockings a year, and if you can mend the holes you’ll have a valuable skill to barter.”

“Oh.”

He chuckles and ruffles my hair. “You have a reason to distrust soldiers, but try not to assume the worst of all of us.”

Reflexively, I duck away from his touch. At home, we show affection through words and actions—taking over someone else’s chores, or bringing them a treat from town. Even with Mjera, it took a while before I was comfortable with her tendency to take my hands and hug in greeting or farewell. Since leaving Vallegat, I’ve held back from physical contact with others as much as possible, and I’m embarrassed to admit how frazzled his touch makes me feel.

If my reaction offends him, he doesn’t show it. We’ve reached the edge of the unit now, and I take a deep breath of pine scented air as we approach a stand of trees. “Few of the soldiers at the fort were kind to us,” I say.

“A few days from now and you’ll be free of soldiers for good.”

Chickadees chirp somewhere overhead, almost as if answering his comment. I search the branches for them, trying to recapture the light feeling I’d had minutes ago. “Maybe.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know if I can go home.”

Six ducks a low branch and bends to inspect a mushroom pushing through the last thin layer of snow. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know if they’ll let me. Because I’m a...”

“You aren’t really a traitor,” he says. “They can’t hold that against you.”

But they will. Some of them are bound to, especially now that I’m leading the Ielics back to the fort. “I don’t know,” I murmur.

“Well,” Six says. “You can always stay with us. It might be nice to have a healer on scouting missions.”

A flare of something like hope warms my face, and I look away. “The others would never go for that.”

“Why wouldn’t they? Once this is all done, you’ll have more than proved yourself trustworthy. You’re even half Ielic. That’s more than—” He stumbles, catching hold of a low branch and laughing at himself. “More than enough. And if things continue the way they are, we’ll have plenty of missions to go on.”

“You think there will be an invasion even if we take the tunnel?” I ask, eager to change the subject. I don’t want to think about how much it will hurt when Redge insists I can’t join the rangers.

“Yes,” Six murmurs. “If Ambritten plans on invading, taking the tunnel won’t stop him for long. He’ll just gather a larger force and take it back.”

“But now your king will have warning about the tunnel. He’ll have plenty of time to send soldiers to defend the border before Ambritten can act.”

Six hesitates, still holding onto the branch. “Aquillis is a king in name only. His older brother Órsurin was killed in the Coastal Wars, and since Órsurin had no sons, the crown passed to his brother. Aquillis has neither the talent for strategy nor the courage to make hard decisions. His usual response is to pretend a threat doesn’t exist and hope it goes away.”

“Is there no council to help him?”

“There’s a council,” Six says. “But he doesn’t listen to them. Men who speak against him tend to disappear. It’s why Bayal was sent to command the Border Patrol. He was one of Órsurin’s generals, and after the king died Bayal disagreed with the way Aquillis handled the battles to follow. Ieli was close to overcoming Awnia’s forces, but Aquillis wouldn’t give the command to attack. It gave Awnia time to regroup and added another two years to the fighting. Bayal argued one too many times, so Aquillis sent him from the front lines to start an infantry patrol on the edge of the mountains. Vikko was a captain himself in Órsurin’s time, and for supporting Bayal he was demoted and banished along with him.”

He moves off along the path again, and I follow with my eyes on the ground. “Are all kings like that?”

Six lets out a humorless chuckle. “All nobles are like that. Rank and title mean everything, and if you have neither you don’t matter. You’re a pawn for them to use against one another and nothing more.”

“Then... do you think King Aquillis will refuse to act on the tunnel?”

“It’s hard to say.” Six plucks a pinecone from the ground and tosses it into the forest. “I think he’ll take the threat seriously, but he’s unpredictable. He may dismiss it just because it comes from Bayal, or he may take it more seriously because there’s a direct route to Elni from this part of the mountains. It will also depend on his court. If they push him to act one way, he may do the opposite just to show he’s in charge.”

I scowl. A man like that has no business being king. “Is there nothing that can be done?”

“Nothing short of treason,” Six says. “Is that what you’re suggesting?”

“It wouldn’t be treason for me. I’m not Ielic.”

Six laughs. “A takeover then. You think you would be a better king?”

“Perhaps I would be.” I pause before a cluster of shrubs, bending low to check beneath their leaves. A little patch of pale green leaves huddles together in the shadows, straining toward the sunlight. Thyme. I reach down and pinch one of the stems, breaking it off in a way that won’t inhibit future growth.

“What would your kingdom look like?” Six asks.

I peer up at him, considering his curious expression and wondering how serious an answer I should give. “No one would be forced to serve in my army, to start with,” I say. “People could choose to do what they wanted with their lives in spite of—” I stop, pretending to inspect a piece of thyme. I’d been about to say gender. “In spite of circumstances of their birth,” I finish awkwardly.

“Very noble,” Six says. His voice is a little too soft to be teasing.

“Well,” I murmur, clearing my throat. “What about you? What would a country under your rule look like?”

Six looks down the path, running a hand through his hair. “Who wants that kind of responsibility? You and Aquillis and Ambritten can have the whole continent if you want it. I just want to live a quiet life away from it all.”

“That’s why you joined the army?” I ask skeptically.

He snorts. “I joined the army because it was the only choice available to me at the time. I won’t be here forever.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets, a crooked grin pulling at the left side of his mouth. “But who knows? Perhaps if you become king I’ll enlist in your army. Just to be clear, are you taking over Ieli or Awnia?”

“Both,” I answer, placing the thyme in my satchel and climbing to my feet. “And who says I would let you in my army? It will have high standards.”

“Bold words coming from someone who can’t use a sword.”

He says it with a smirk, and I lift my chin to look down my nose at him as I pass. “That’s what my army will be for.”

Six pushes himself from the tree and trots after me. “You should at least know how to defend yourself. Assassins lurk everywhere, after all.”

“Even here?”

“Everywhere.” The sound of metal against leather slides across my ears, and I turn to see Six with his sword drawn. “Go on,” he says, gesturing toward the blade on my hip. “Let’s see what you know.”

“I know nothing,” I argue.

“Then it’s time to learn. Go on, draw.”

Eyeing him warily, I ease my sword from its sheath and wrap both hands around the hilt. Six holds his out to show me his grip, and I copy it. “Good,” he says, taking a slow swing toward me. I twist to block it, and Six smiles.

“After you block, do this.” He steps to the side, sliding his blade along mine and pushing it back. He attacks again, and I follow his instructions. “Good. A basic block turned into an attack.”

I nod, and he strikes forward so quickly that I barely get my sword up in time. I fall back, trying to put distance between us, but he closes the gap in a step. His sword snakes through my defense, and I find myself staring down the point as he stops it an inch from my nose.

“The same move,” he says. “But faster. A basic move can be just as deadly as a complicated one.”

I push him away, heat rising to my face. Six smiles and reaches out to tousle my hair.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he says. “We’ve got a lot to learn in a short amount of time. Try again.”