guards of the city watch had passed her yesterday, going back to Caernarvon. They’d assured her that a woman, especially a woman encumbered with a child, couldn’t have ridden faster than they had. They had given up and gone home. One look at their faces and she knew she would have no luck convincing them otherwise. They were tired and probably under orders not to cross the Lae’knaught who sometimes wandered this far east. Elene let them go. What mattered more than the city watch was Kylar. He’d come this way, too. At some point, he’d passed the kidnapper and Uly—because he hadn’t been looking for them.
But she was almost to Torras Bend. Tonight she would sleep in a bed. Bathe. Then she would find out if the kidnapper had headed toward Cenaria, as Elene suspected. And have a hot meal. Elene was daydreaming when she saw the Lae’knaught.
They straddled the road in the middle of some of the largest wheat fields south of Torras Bend. If Elene had wanted to go around them, she’d have to go miles to the east and risk crossing into Ezra’s Wood, which was supposed to be haunted. As it was, it was too late. They’d already seen her, and the knights had horses saddled and ready to give chase.
Elene approached them directly, suddenly acutely aware of being a woman traveling alone. There were six men, all armed, and as she neared, all of them stood to intercept her. Over chain hauberks, they wore black tabards emblazoned with a golden sun: the pure light of reason beating back the darkness of superstition. She’d never come across the Lae’knaught, but she knew Kylar didn’t think much of them. They professed not to believe in magic, but hated it at the same time. Kylar said they were nothing more than bullies. If they really hated Khalidorans, he’d said, they would have come to Cenaria’s aid when the Godking invaded. Instead, they’d hovered like vultures, picking up recruits among the fleeing Cenarians and scavenging off Cenarian lands.
One of the standing knights stepped forward. He held his twelve-foot ash lance carefully. It looked too long to use on foot, but Elene knew that once mounted, all of the knights’ awkwardness would vanish. “Halt, in the name of the Bringers of the Freedom of the Light,” he said. Elene guessed he couldn’t be more than sixteen. As Elene stopped, he stepped forward and grabbed the reins. She wasn’t sure what they were so nervous about, and then she realized what should have been immediately obvious. When they saw a woman traveling alone, they saw vulnerability. No normal woman would travel alone, therefore, she must not be a normal woman. She must be a wytch. Elene’s stomach tightened.
“Thank goodness,” Elene said, sighing as if with relief. She almost said thank the God, but she didn’t think the Lae’knaught believed in gods, either. “Can you help me?”
“What is it? What are you doing alone on these roads?” one of the older ones asked.
“Have you seen a young woman, maybe with red hair, traveling with a young girl? Maybe two days ago? No?” Elene slumped, and the sudden pained look on her face was real, even slumping hurt after how much she’d ridden. “I guess she would certainly have avoided you, given what she is. You’re certain you didn’t see anyone, maybe trying to avoid you by traveling farther east?”
“What are you talking about, young lady? What’s happened? How can we help?” the knight asked. From the change in his voice, Elene knew he no longer saw her as a threat. Acting weak and vulnerable had done the trick.
“I’ve come from Caernarvon,” Elene said. “We were originally from Cenaria, but we left as soon as those awful men and their wytches invaded. We were making a new life, Uly and me—Uly’s the little girl, my ward. Her parents were killed by the wytches. . . . We thought we were safe in Caernarvon, but she was kidnapped, sirs. I just had to follow her. The city watch came a way, but then they turned back. I’m afraid I’ll never catch up.”
“It’s just like those damn Sisters, kidnapping a child,” the youngest knight said. “That letter said—”
The older knight barked, “Marcus!”
The men were all looking at each other, and Elene knew that her near-truths had not only worked, but that they knew something more. The knights withdrew, leaving the young Marcus standing and looking at her scars awkwardly. Then he realized he was