The sound of swords clashing faded into the background as Crow put distance between himself and the rest of the party. He huffed, wrestling his wild breath under control while he watched the trees around him for signs that any of the mercenaries had taken chase. In the back of his mind, he knew it was a bad idea to isolate himself from his guards. Chances were high that he was their target, since they had been riding to Younis in order for him to negotiate with the foreign king. If any of the killers realized he was alone, there wasn’t much he could do to fend them off with only a pair of daggers at his disposal. However, it was a risk he was willing to take when he had Otto within his line of sight. The missing baron had a lead on him, but the former thief had more experience navigating forests in the thick of a pursuit. Even though he wasn’t used to being on this end of a chase, he wove through the trees with muscle memory that flooded through him like a wave, and the meters between them decreased quickly until he could see the whites of the other man’s eyes when he looked over his shoulder. It didn’t take long for him to close the gap completely. As soon as he had the noble within reach, Crow leapt to tackle him, and they both collapsed into the brush. Otto let out a surprised cry and grunted as he hit the ground. His body broke the viceroy’s fall, so for a moment he laid dazed. The armor he was wearing—different than the glistening, ceremonial garb he’d been sporting before he’d disappeared, the former thief noticed—had protected him from any serious injuries though. He only needed to get his breath back after the impact, and once he had it, he writhed underneath Crow’s grasp. “Let me go, you filthy cur!” If there had been any doubt in Crow’s mind that Otto still thought of him as a criminal, it was gone now. All pretense of respect had fled from his tongue, and his true colors had risen to the surface. The viceroy scoffed and took the baron’s wrists in his hands, pressing them into the grass while he sat in a way to pin him down with his weight. “Not until you tell me what you were doing with those mercenaries,” he demanded. Otto struggled against him, but he wasn’t the frail, malnourished prisoner he had been two years ago. With the strength that came from a healthy, well-built body, he held the other man down with ease. “I don’t have all day,” he barked impatiently, letting go of one of the knight’s arms to draw a dagger from underneath his cloak. He touched the edge of the weapon to the other man’s throat and leaned over his head with narrowed eyes. “Either you tell me why you’re working with those murderers, or I tell the others we have one less enemy to deal with on our way to the castle.” It was an empty threat of course. While he had improved in his ability to fight and stomach the sight of blood, he still didn’t like the thought of killing another person without doing so to defend himself or someone else. He also squirmed internally at the thought of telling Rayner that he’d cut his father’s throat, since the lieutenant was insisting Otto wasn’t a bad guy. Ending his life wasn’t in the cards, but because of his reputation as a criminal, he was sure the baron wouldn’t expect him to have a moral compass. He could use the older man’s assumptions against him. If Otto wanted to look at him like a villain, then he was happy to act out the role. The ploy seemed to work too, as the knight stiffened at the feeling of the cold blade against his skin. A few heartbeats passed as he considered the viceroy’s options before he squeezed his eyes shut and hissed, “It isn’t my choice.” Crow furrowed his brows, “What was that?” “I said this isn’t my choice!” Otto repeated himself a little louder, his eyes darting to the nearest trees as if he was afraid of being overheard. “Now let me go. If I’m seen like this, they’ll kill me and my family.” That wasn’t the answer Crow had been expecting. He pursed his lips, perplexed. It was difficult to tell if the baron was being honest with him or if he was just making up a lie to escape. “Why should I believe you?” he asked sharply, measuring his voice to avoid giving the other man any hint that he was swayed. “Because I’m telling you the truth, you stupid peasant!” Otto snarled. “You think I [i]wanted[/i] to help them sabotage the king’s plans? I have been loyal to Albin long before he was even crowned! They ordered me to assist their ambush weeks ago and said that if I refused, they would kill Rayner and my wife.” “Weeks ago?” Crow echoed, his heart hammering against his ribs. If Otto was telling the truth, that meant the men had approached the baron while they were still in the citadel. He wondered if that was why he’d seen one of the mercenaries in Bellmare. However, the knight’s response still gave him more questions than answers. “The king was going to send me to Gorm until only a few days ago. Do they not want negotiations to happen with either kingdom?” “No,” Otto shook his head. “Their plans changed when King Albin’s did. You weren’t supposed to be the target.” “Who was?” “That, I don’t know. I was only told that the ambush was to take place inside the citadel and that I was to help them get past the walls.” Crow fell quiet for a moment and then went on in a lower voice. “I’ve dealt with these men before. They didn’t speak our language… How have they been giving you these orders?” At that, Otto chuckled in a way that sent a chill across the viceroy’s skin. It was an empty laugh that was half defeated, half incredulous, and the words that followed were even more ominous: “They weren’t the ones who gave me the orders.” “What do you mean?” Crow probed. “They have eyes and ears inside the castle,” Otto revealed quietly, once again acting as if he was afraid of being overheard. “As high within the ranks as the king’s own court. I was blackmailed by someone I never would have expected. A friend who has betrayed us all for money and power—” He didn’t have the chance to finish the sentence before an arrow suddenly pierced him in the head, and Crow jumped up from his body in surprise. Blood rushing in his ears, he spun around just in time to see the mercenary on the black horse turn the loaded bow in his hands toward him. The man must have broken away from the fight to follow them into the woods. And now that they were alone, there was nothing to stop him from finishing his job. Swearing under his breath, the former thief dove behind the nearest bush just as the mercenary loosed his arrow. The projectile flew past his side, punching a hole in his cloak before it embedded itself into a tree behind him. He pressed a hand against his bruised midriff and ground his teeth. This was bad. He was too far away from his entourage to call for help, and if his opponent was anything like the mercenaries he’d faced years ago, he didn’t stand a chance against him in fair combat. He couldn’t give up without a fight though. Gripping his dagger firmly in his hand, he peered through the leaves as the burly man walked his horse closer to the shrubbery he was using as a barrier between them. The mercenary was saying something in his native language that he couldn’t understand, but he paid no mind to the guttural-sounding words. Instead, his green eyes were fixed on the man’s torso as he tried to evaluate whether or not he was wearing armor. A half-brewed plan had started to form in his mind, and he wasn’t certain if it would work, but he had no other options. So, as soon as the mercenary caught sight of him behind the bush and raised his bow to loose another arrow, the viceroy leapt into action. He threw the dagger in his hand before the other man could let go of his bowstring, praying to any god he could think of that the blade would hit its mark. And either the gods were listening to him that day or he’d stumbled upon an incredible stroke of luck, because even though the dagger didn’t pierce the metal plates underneath the killer’s cloak, it happened to cut through the string of his bow along its way, so the arrow flew askew through the air and fell short of its intended target. Crow knew mercenaries always carried more than one weapon, so he didn’t take time to celebrate his success. While the rider dug through his belongings for another one, the former thief was already running back through the trees toward the knights he’d left behind. He sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him, spurred onward by the sound of hoofbeats at his back. Normally, he would have used the trees to his advantage by weaving between them to make use of the uneven terrain, but there wasn’t time for that when his enemy was seated on a mount that could outpace him faster if he didn’t move in a straight line. Luckily because he’d ruined the mercenary’s long range weapon, the other man couldn’t attack him again before he closed the distance, and he covered enough ground to catch sight of the others through the trees up ahead by the time he was forced to throw himself to the floor to dodge the swing of a sword. Preston noticed the commotion first and blanched at the sight of the viceroy being pursued by the only mercenary who hadn’t either escaped or been killed by one of the knights. “Percival!” he shouted urgently, pointing toward the two and drawing the others’ attention toward the skirmish. Percy and the Younisian knights quickly steered their horses toward their enemy with their own weapons drawn, and the man on the black stallion snapped his head around toward them. Seeming to realize he wouldn’t survive if he lingered, he drove his heels into his mount’s sides and cantered back into the forest, disappearing around a thick cluster of trees and leaving Crow behind to climb shakily to his feet, surrounded by no less than seven guards. He rubbed his side with a wince and took in a slow breath, relieved that he’d managed to slip away at the expense of only one dagger and perhaps a few bruised ribs. “Follow him,” the captain of the Younisian patrol ordered three of his men. “And try to capture him alive. I want to know who these men are and why they are trespassing in our territory in the middle of a war.” The knights nodded and spurred their steeds to take chase. Meanwhile, Percival slid off his horse to approach Crow. “Why did you leave?” he asked with a stern frown, limping on his wounded leg. “None of us saw where you went, and we can’t protect you if we don’t know where you are.” Crow turned away from the trees to face the other man. “Otto was here,” he said between breaths. “Baron Theroulde?” Percy blinked. “Yeah,” the viceroy nodded. “He was watching us fight from a distance, so I went after him.” “You could have told one of us,” the knight knitted his brows. “You were almost killed because you wandered away from the group. You should have stayed here.” “I’m not a child,” Crow rolled his eyes and then grimaced again, pressing his hand down over his middle. Percy glanced down at his torso and sighed. “I’ll take a look at that when we get to someplace safe… For now, did you find out what Otto was doing here?” Crow nodded and parted his lips to explain, only to falter when Rayner ambled over. Unlike the others, the lieutenant didn’t seem to have sustained any injuries from the fight. “I’ll tell you later,” Crow mumbled under his breath, inclining his head ever so slightly toward Otto’s son. He didn’t want to break the news of the baron’s death in front of him. Percival nodded, seeming to take the hint, and turned toward their comrade. “Did anyone see where Naida went?” Rayner asked concernedly once he’d reached them. “I thought I saw her take a hit from one of the mercenaries.” At that, the color drained from the former thief’s face. After everything that had happened with Otto, he’d forgotten about his half-sister. A pang of guilt twisted his stomach, only to be smothered a second later by a surge of fear. The princess hadn’t been in good shape when her horse had galloped away from the fight, and he had no clue if she was even still alive. Their enemy’s weapon had looked like it had cut deep. He cursed to himself and gestured toward the eastern side of the woods. “I saw her go that way,” he replied curtly. Percival nodded once more and touched his own wounded leg. “You two go on ahead of me. I’ll catch up.” Putting the baron out of his mind, Crow hurried with Rayner to mount their horses again. They headed into the trees briskly, sticking close together just in case any of the other mercenaries were still hiding nearby while they searched for the familiar shape of the princess’s horse. As the one who had convinced their father to allow her to join the mission, the former thief hoped beyond hope that she was okay. He didn’t know what he was going to do if they found a body in place of his sibling, and he held his breath worriedly as he scanned their surroundings for their missing member.