“Did he—?”

“No.” His voice went hard. “He knows that if he did anything to her I’d kill him. She’s safe in the capital.”

“What are you doing here? Verex, you’re no fighter.”

He laughed a little. “I’d have said the same of you. Yet look at you.”

“You knew it was me.”

“You have this way when you walk. You stride.”

“I didn’t expect to see the emperor here, let alone you.”

“I’m mostly here to be looked at. The emperor came with me in tow for the morale of the troops. There’ve been a few military setbacks in this campaign.” He peered at her. “Your doing?”

She wasn’t sure how to answer. For the first time, it occurred to her that it might not matter that Verex was her friend. Maybe he would seize her anyway.

Maybe he’d cry an alarm.

Maybe he couldn’t be her friend when it seemed so obvious that she was his people’s enemy.

She took a step back, then stopped when hurt flickered across his face.

“I think,” Verex said gently, “that your father knows it’s your doing.”

“My father?”

“I didn’t make much of it before, but after the Valorian victory on the beach, an officer mentioned the ambush along the road near Errilith. Said things about Arin. What would be done to him, if caught alive.”

Kestrel’s stomach twisted.

“Said something about that . . . slave with the clever tricks.”

In Verex’s pause, she could hear the foulness of what he didn’t repeat.

“Your father made no reply at first. Then: ‘Not his tricks. Not his alone.’ And the officer smirked and said, ‘You mean the no-nosed barbarian.’ But I don’t think, now, that the general did mean the eastern prince. After the battle on the beach, I saw him searching . . . he went among the prisoners taken. He turned over bodies in the sand. The way he looked . . .”

“ Don’t tell him you saw me.”

“Maybe he should know.”

“Verex, don’t. Swear.”

Worriedly, he scanned her face. “You have my word. But . . .” He raked a hand through his fine hair, then peered at her through narrowed eyes. He lifted the empty bag at her hip, dropped it, rubbed his fingers and thumb together, and sniffed the unmistakable odor of black powder. A slow horror stole over his face. “What exactly are you doing here?”

“Just let me walk away. Forget you saw me, please.”

“I can’t do that. You’d make me responsible for what ever you’re going to do.”

“No one will get hurt if you keep people away from the supply wagons. Make up some excuse. No one will die.”

“To night, maybe. What about tomorrow, when we need what you plan to destroy? You’re after the black powder, aren’t you?”

She said nothing.

Softly, he said, “I could stop you so easily, right now.”

“If you did, you’d hand your father yet another victory.”

He sighed. “The awful thing is, part of me wants to please him, despite every thing.”

“No. Please don’t. You can’t.”

“But I do want to . . . and I hate myself for wanting to please him, and I can’t think of a way to do it without hurting you. Maybe you could think of a way, but would never tell me. You’d fall into my father’s hands again, and your father’s hands, and I’d never forgive myself.”

Kestrel told him that she would miss him. She told him, quietly, as the sound of waves pushed and pulled at the night, that she wished he were her brother, that she was sorry, and grateful to know him.

There was no sound other than the waves as she walked away.

When she reached Arin, he released the parted bushes and lowered the eastern crossbow he’d held cranked at the ready.

“You wouldn’t have,” she stated.

Arin looked at her. He certainly would.

“Verex is my friend.”

Arin unloaded the crossbow. His fingers were trembling. “You greeted him like a friend,” he acknowledged. “But . . .”

They both looked back toward the camp. The slender shadow of the Valorian prince slowly retraced his steps. He dissolved into the camp’s firelight, a good distance from the supply wagons.

Kestrel untied the empty sack from her waist and dusted her hands, her clothes. “Matches, now.”

Arin’s hands still weren’t sure of themselves. He fumbled with the box. She took it, struck a match, and touched it to the trail of black powder she’d left behind. It sparked, lit, and burned down the line.