Wil couldn't understand the importance of Everna. Though she had a few noteworthy qualities, unrefined as they were, she was otherwise unimpressive. Nothing about her stood out to him.

She had no criminal history or any connections that might suggest involvement in the seedier aspects of life. There were no problems during her mandatory schooling, not even one instance of error or fault, and later, during her time at the academy. He'd never seen a cleaner record. At first, he'd found that highly suspicious, but after the argument in the street, he realized those suspicions were unfounded. Everna was simply one of the few who rarely stirred up trouble.

Which was quite odd, considering her temper and snark.

The most impressive thing about her was her family — her father's legacy and her brother's growing list of accomplishments. Even when compared to her mother, who had little to her name but a few questionable documents and more questions than answers, a scullery maid was far more interesting.

Only the whispers among the Courts hinted that there was more to her than met the eye. Her instructors raved about her potential, she could spot the smallest details and ferret out information in ways most couldn't. The Inquisitors clamored to pull her under their wings, her raw potential the most promising they'd seen in years.

If he remembered the academy's criminal justice program correctly, as it had been years since he'd gone through it, Everna would be something akin to a prodigy in their eyes. Students typically began shadowing Inquisitors in their third or fourth year. Everna began as early as her second, according to the Inquisitor handling her case.

Her school records didn't reflect that fact; those were a matter of public record, and for the students' safety, the academy omitted any mention of their involvement with the Inquisitors. Retaliation crimes against the investigative branch of the Courts had been on the rise for years, but it took the death of three Inquisitors' shadows for the academy to alter their policy.

Yet, Wil questioned if they weren't exaggerating her talents.

She had two obvious shortcomings — ones the Inquisitor was all too eager to point out. Her penchant for finer details blinded her to the larger picture; she focused too much on the minute and not enough on the other aspects of the matter. She'd missed two of the most obvious parts of the Courts' ploy because of it.

Arrogance would be the second, though the Inquisitor was less inclined to agree. Wil, however, would argue it was her more dangerous flaw. She behaved like every puffed-up academy slag he'd met, believing that a few years of study at an institution made her an expert. Her early shadowing gave her both an edge and enough experience to keep from losing her stomach at the sight of blood, but she severely overestimated her own ability.

Her argument with Windmore the night of her arrest was proof of such.

If she were smarter, she'd have kept her mouth shut. Her attempt to exonerate herself only pushed herself into the grave she'd dug. She knew too much, and in telling Windmore what she knew, she gave him everything he needed to counter her testimony in the reports.

It was an abysmal lack of judgment on her part. He'd had low expectations for her from the start, but they plummeted further with every word that left her lips. Wil almost laughed when he realized she truly thought she could solve a crisis that stumped even the most intelligent and experienced of the Inquisitors.

The only remarkable thing he'd seen came with the gleam of a sword. Everna might not pay attention to things she didn't feel were important enough, and she may be overly curious and far too unrestrained, but she wasn't as naïve as he assumed. Everna knew better than to trust him, and she'd turned on him without a second thought.

He could see it the moment she turned her sword on him, that apprehensive look in her eyes as she quickly arrived at a conclusion that wasn't entirely unreasonable. Wil couldn't blame her. If he were honest, he'd thought she might have lured him into a trap instead.

She had the education and intelligence to support the idea that she could be responsible for a carefully plotted assassination with no leads. He couldn't discard the possibility that she was part of a ploy to lure Shadowguard into the open. It wouldn't be the first time someone incriminated themselves to subvert his attention.

Objectively, she was the ideal suspect. She knew Mayor Ashburn. Her parents owned the tavern where the assassination occurred, and there were enough artifacts in their possession that even the magic-deafened could've pulled it off without a hitch. She knew what to say to divert blame (or so he'd assumed) and what the Courts would look for when they investigated the scene. As the daughter of one of the Five Heroes, and with a sword in her possession worth more than most people's life savings, he assumed she knew how to fight.

Windmore's admission and the ensuring conflict shot that theory down in a blazing fire. She could hardly hold her ground against Windmore. The townspeople were right; there was no way in hell Everna could've bested Mayor Ashburn. He'd seen the room.

Mayor Ashburn put up a fight, one that Everna would not have escaped unscathed.

No, the only things she had going for her were looks and intelligence — neither of which she knew how to use properly. She wasn't the culprit. He was certain of that now.

"Where are we going, exactly?"

Everna's voice, though quiet, split the silence of the night with all the subtly of an explosion. It startled him from his thoughts, so much that he nearly leapt out of his skin. He'd forgotten she was there. She hadn't spoken since they left town.

The lands beyond the town's walls were quiet, perhaps too quiet. Snow blanketed the farms that dotted the rolling countryside, stalks of golden wheat weeping in the cold. An early and unusually harsh winter had ruined the fall harvest and, within a few weeks, the loss would take its toll on the town and further beyond. The last reports he received suggested the entire kingdom suffered a similar crisis. Many would starve before spring arrived.

Something was amiss in Inverness, and Wil would not discard the possibility it was more than an unfortunate coincidence.

When he spared Everna a glance over his shoulder, he found her shivering, her hands curled tightly into her coat as she hugged it to her body. She'd stuffed what remained of her hair into the collar to shield her neck from the numbing cold. The rest stood out at odd, uneven angles.

She looked the picture of misery at that moment. Annoying as she was with her snarky defiance, he couldn't help the sliver of pity stirring within him. Lady Luck hadn't been kind to her.

"A safe house," he said when he realized he still hadn't answered the question.

Her eyes narrowed. The starlight caught the threads of amber in her irises in a way similar to burning embers. "In the woods?"

He rolled his eyes, a sigh pulling from his lips. She had enough sense to be wary of the woods, but once again, her ignorance made itself known.

"If I wanted you dead, I'd have let the Courts hang you."

"By your logic, if Windmore wanted me dead, he could've killed me while I was in my cell," she countered.

Gods, did she have to argue with everything?

Yet, she had a point. Windmore had a myriad of opportunities to dispose of her and write it off as an unfortunate accident — retaliation from an angered citizen or an overly zealous member of the Guard. He had more than enough time to deal with her in the Guard post, yet he merely kept ahold of her.

It was only after she escaped that he issued the kill order.

Windmore wasn't working alone, and whoever he worked for didn't want her dead, but killed in a very specific and public way.

"While that is a valid point, I recall saying I don't need you, but you will cooperate."

"And you think I need you?"

"You'd be dead right now, if not for me."

"I'd be home in my bed," she shot back.

Another valid point, he begrudged. He could've slipped into the post before he met with Everna, told her what she needed to know, and sent her back home. That's what he should've done.

Those were his orders.

Osain was going to strangle him when they reached the safe house, he was sure. He wasn't supposed to get involved any more than he had, but gods leave him, Osain and the Courts were going to get her killed at this rate. She might have her faults, but she was still an innocent woman, and if they weren't careful, they'd play right into the culprit's hand.

Breaking into the Guard post had been a spontaneous decision; he only meant to see if there was anything more to her — if she was truly involved or just an unfortunate victim of circumstance. If they'd gotten caught, one mention of his affiliations would absolve them of suspicion. Sir Swiftbrook was a longtime ally of Shadowguard.

He'd failed to account for Windmore, however, and because of that, he dragged Everna right to him at the worst possible —

"You were being watched," he said, voicing the realization.

"Of course I was," Everna said, as if it couldn't be more obvious. "You didn't truly think the Courts turned me loose, and that was the end of it? The Inquisitor didn't say it outright, but I knew there was no way they'd let me, their prime suspect, walk free without someone keeping tabs on me. I certainly didn't think Windmore would let it go."

He heard the shifting of her coat as she shook her head. "There was a reason I didn't want to go into the Post, and not because it was illegal. I told you it wouldn't end well. If you would've just listened, we could've avoided this. I could've handled the matter in the morning."

"You'd have still walked into the trap," Wil pointed out. "And you'd have been alone."

"No, I wouldn't have," she said, her voice steeped with irritation. "Sir Swiftbrook said he wouldn't call me back to the post, but told me how to get in contact with him. I had several developments I needed to inform him of."

Wil pointedly ignored that point and instead asked, "Why Sir Swiftbrook, though? Windmore could've killed anyone and achieved his goal."

"Oh, I thought you could handle this yourself. Surely you don't need my opinion."

He didn't. He was merely curious to see what she thought of it, but it seemed she'd rather be difficult for the sake of it.

Again, he turned to look at her over his shoulder. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Did you want me to need you?"

Her face contorted, her nose scrunched and her brows drawn, just as it did each time he pinned her with that pet name. It was an amusing sight. She looked a bit like an angry rodent. Rodents, however, were just a touch more threatening.

"Since you're so smart, I'll leave you to figure it out," she said.

He waved her off, and as he turned back to the road, he heard her mutter something that sounded much like an elvish curse, albeit with horrible pronunciation.

The forest loomed before them now, a twisted mass of oaks that stretched as far as the eye could see. Five miles beyond the tree line, the kingdom’s borders ended, and the Wildlands began. Once they crossed the line, the Guard wouldn’t be of concern. They had no authority beyond the border, and if they tried to push the limits of their boundaries, they’d find it more trouble than it was worth.

“Is walking out in the open like this a good idea?” Everna asked, just as the road through the outskirts petered out and the trail that led to the forest began. “What if someone’s following us?”

“I doubt the Guard thought you’d escape the town,” he said. “Besides, cutting through the farms would be even more obvious.”

If they didn’t leave a path through the fields, they’d alert every guard dog within the mile. The open country was a necessary risk. Once they passed into the sheltered darkness of the forest, and unless the Guard had ways of seeing through the veil of night, they’d be beyond detection.

As far as sight went, that was. No sooner than they passed into the trees, Everna found every leaf and twig in the path. They snapped beneath her feet, the sound amplified by the stillness of the night.

Three miles from the border, the trail vanished. The trees grew denser, their trunks thicker and branches more plentiful. Many still clung to their leaves, the forest unprepared for the sudden arrival of winter. Patches of snow dotted the forest floor where the dense canopy allowed, while icicles hung from the boughs. The call of owls and other nocturnal birds echoed through the night, and more than once, they shot off into the sky as they passed their roosts.

Everna was nearly on top of him now, stumbling over gnarled roots and rock. Wil felt her hand on his back, her fingers reaching for his cloak. Then she distanced herself, only to reach for him again a few moments later. He’d forgotten that her human eyes weren’t as sensitive to light as his were, but she would have to deal with it as best he could. If the Guard had followed them, any unnecessary light would give away their location.

It seemed Everna’s stumbling had done just that. They were mere feet from the border when the low whistle of an arrow reached his ears. He spun on his heels, reaching for Everna, just as the arrow found its mark.

With a strangled cry, she stumbled forward, clutching her shoulder.

Another arrow flew past, missing her by mere inches, and sank into the trunk of a nearby tree.

“Not following us, my ass,” Everna hissed through gritted teeth.

Her nails dug into her shoulder as she stumbled behind one of the wider trees. Sweat beaded on her brow as she seethed through her nose. Yet, she didn’t remove the arrow.

Good, he wouldn’t have to worry about her killing herself on top of everything else.

A third bolt streaked past, this one wide of its mark. It burrowed into the truck beside him, the shaft a foot from his face. Black fletching sprouted from the ends, and unease pitted in his stomach.

The forest fell silent once more. Everna swallowed her pain, her breathing labored but muffled. The arrow didn’t go too deep; her coat took the bulk of it and she still had feeling in her arm. If he had to guess, the head was only an inch or two beneath her skin.

A minute passed, and Wil waited, listening for even a hint of movement. When he heard nothing, he leaned around the trunk. No sooner than he did, the whistle returned. The arrow clipped the side of his hood and his hand shot up, his fingers curling around the shaft.

He examined the tip, and cold fear seized his heart. Rather than the straight and triangular heads used by the Guard, this one sported a dramatic curve along the bottom. The corners jutted inward, a pair of wicked barbs extending from each.

An Assassin’s Arrowhead.

Only one group that used such arrowheads, and they served only one purpose. They preyed upon ignorance. Had Everna pulled the arrow free, she’d have taken a chunk of her shoulder with it.

Then he noticed the smell permeating from the tip — the pungent aroma of flowers that carried a sour undertone.

Queen’s Root.

A single glance at Everna confirmed his suspicions. Her head bobbed, eyes clouded despite her attempts to keep them open. Gone was the pain that twisted her countenance; she leaned heavily against the tree, her body slacked and her breathing slowed.

Queen’s Root wasn’t lethal, even in large quantities; it was a common ingredient in herbal teas and sleep aids, but in hefty doses, it caused temporary paralysis, amnesia, and unconsciousness of varying degrees. The more unsavory circles used it as a sedative.

Wil blew out a breath. Engaging their pursuer was too risky. In her state, Everna was nothing but a liability. The archer might not be alone; there may be another waiting to make off with her while the other diverted his attention.

The safe house was still four miles to the west. He couldn’t carry her; it would only leave her exposed and hinder him. There was only one option, and it came with its own complications.

Planetrace was a complex spell, one that required a complete transformation of the physical body as it passed into the boundary between planes and immense concentration to maintain that incorporeal form. It was dangerous enough to cross larger distances alone; to do so with another increased that danger exponentially. A lapse in focus could spell disaster for both of them.

He didn’t have a choice.

Using a large blackberry bush as cover, he darted to Everna. She remained locked in her battle with consciousness, lingering between coherency and obliviousness. At some point she’d slid down the trunk, sitting in a tangled mess of useless limbs on the forest floor. Only the tree behind her kept her upright.

She was dead weight in his arms as he hauled her over his shoulder. A mess of slurred speech tumbled from her lips — something vaguely resembling a question. She lifted her arm ever so slightly, only for it to fall limp once again.

As another arrow rocketed towards them, the world dissolved into a monochrome blur.

Wil hated the space between the planes; it was distorted and disorienting, an ever-shifting mass of shadows pulled into sharp contrast. They were closer to Caligo than he’d like, the gaping void of the Realm of Shadow a heavy burden against his mind. It was one of the more dangerous planes, one ruled by deities no sane person dared worship and guarded by creatures just as harsh as the darkness that birthed them. Few who passed through the boundary returned; the ones who did were never quite the same.

After the first minute — so he assumed, time was little more than a stagnate entity in the boundary between planes — the spell’s effects took hold. His concentration slipped, the world shifting between utter darkness and shadowy forest. Everna was slipping as well, her presence fading in and out of his reach. Any longer and he’d lose her entirely.

As if the planes themselves decided he’d spent long enough between them, he stumbled back into Iridia once more. He hit the ground, hard, as his body solidified. His knees buckled, Everna no longer weightless but bearing down on his back, and they tumbled to the ground. Nausea turned his stomach, the mess of snowy twigs and fallen leaves swimming before his eyes. He barely felt it when Everna rolled off his shoulder and landed beside him.

He drew in a shuddering breath, the winter air harsh against his throat. Numbness spread through his arms, which trembled as he struggled to keep himself off the ground, then to the rest of his body. Tentatively, he flexed his fingers, the static of pins and needles intensifying.

When his vision cleared and he could finally lift his head, he cursed. On the other side of a large clearing, sat the safe house. Light spilled from the open windows, the murmur of idle chatter drifting on the breeze. Off to the left, he saw the stables, the horses draped in woolen blankets asleep in their stalls.

The sound of approaching footsteps, quick and urgent, rose from his right.

“Gods above, Wil! What happened to you?!”

“It’s been a long night,” he bit out.

A hand found its way to his shoulder, the touch delicate but prodding. Leah, the safe-houses current healer, leaned down, and studied his face. A deep frown tugged at her lips.

“You pushed yourself too far again. Didn’t you?” she asked. “Consider me impressed. It’s by nothing but the Golden Lady’s grace you’re still conscious.”

“Didn’t have a choice,” he said as he pulled himself to his feet. Almost immediately, he stumbled, Leah scrambling to hold him steady. “Quit fussing over me. I’m fine. She’s the one you need to look at.”

She turned to Everna and sighed. “Another damsel in distress? You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“That one’s not your average damsel in distress,” he grumbled.

Something akin to familiarity lit her eyes as Leah knelt beside her. Her fingers found the arrow’s fletching, and she frowned. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Yeah. We’ve got problems. Big ones. The situation in Pendel’s worse than we imagined.”

Leah gently turned Everna onto her back, examining her further. “This is the barmaid? Osain’s going to throttle you. He told you to stay out of it.”

“Osain won’t have time to throttle me. Shroud’s in Pendel, Leah. And I’m certain they’ve control of the Guard. Possibly even the Courts, with how quickly her case escalated. She’d have been dead before the end of the week.”

Leah pursed her lips, the deep tan of her skin several shades lighter in the wake of that revelation. With far more grace and care than he could ever manage, Leah lifted Everna from the snow. “She needs tending to. And rest. As do you.”

“I’m fine,” he protested.

“You’re anything but. I’ll inform Osain of what’s happened, and you can give him the details come morning.”

“Leah, it can’t—”

“It can and it will wait,” she clipped. “You can hardly stand, and there is nothing more we can do tonight. Now, in you go, before I have Vina come persuade you.”

Ambush

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