It feels like I’ve been picking my way through sewer reek forever—one hand on the wall, nose pressed into the other shoulder—when I make out the barest hint of light up ahead. I follow it, my breath loud in my ears, to the grate that Luz told me about. I give it an experimental push. It swings open with surprising ease.

Outside the city walls, it’s night, though it may as well be day compared with the unnatural darkness of the dungeons. I suck in a breath. Sweet freedom … with a chaser of sewer. But after stumbling along those tunnels for stench knows how long, I’m not complaining.

If the smell of sodden char wasn’t still drifting down from the palace terraces, I could almost imagine nothing was amiss in the city. But that, paired with the silhouettes of the Rangers that now patrol the walls, snuffs out any wishful thinking. And there’s something distinctly unnerving about the sight of the larger moon, Shokan, covering the smaller and taking on a color I didn’t expect.

Flower Moon?

Blood Moon more like it.

I do my best to combine casual with quiet as I make my way to the northern trader camp. The back of my neck prickles with every step—if Luz spoke the truth, the dungeon guard will wake up in a puddle of ale any time now.

One thing’s true: They’ve corralled Lil in the stock pens, along with the sheep and goats that will become roasts and stews for travelers. My horse gives a soft whicker as I approach.

“Shhhh,” I murmur.

But it’s too late. A figure stumbles out of the small tent overlooking the pens.

I stop dead in my tracks. Seems Luz’s plan was Rot-brained after all.

The stock boy approaches, something bundled in his arms. “What’s your name?” he whispers hoarsely.

“What?”

“I need a name. If I don’t tell her the right one, I don’t get my second zig.”

“Oh.” Makes sense. “Rakel.”

He holds out his arms. Lil’s desert cloth, saddle, and the rest of her tack.

“Thanks.”

With a sleepy nod, he heads back to his tent.

I saddle Lil as quickly as possible and lead her from the pens, keeping in her shadow when we pass any perimeter torches. Then we’re clear of the caravan camp and heading across the scree for the desert.

I hold my locket up before me, turning it this way and that, squinting in the moonslight. I’ve always marveled at the skill of the artisan who engraved the silver with such accuracy that I could pick out several constellations of the starwheel even in childhood.

But there was one star near the locket’s bottom edge that always stood out, larger than anything I’d seen near the southern horizon over Aphorai. I’d always thought it was a silversmith’s error. A slip of the hand covered to look like a bright star.

If it’s really a map, I have no idea how I’m going to read it. But first things first—put some sand between me and the city. South, Luz said. Her word has held water so far, so south it is.

Before I mount up, I take one last glance over my shoulder at the silhouette of Aphorai’s walls. “Good reekin’ riddance,” I curse under my breath.

“Not. Quite. Yet.” The voice is deep as midnight shadow.

I twist around, only for my eyes to find blackness.

Then my nose picks up the barest hints of sandalwood and cedar.

I spin back the other way.

A dark outline stands against the stars and eerie crimson moon, the scent of cedar stronger now I’m facing him. The Shield. Not for the first time, I wonder why I took the trouble to oil that armor. It’s not like it was my role. I just had to do something with my hands while I watched over him that first night.

But that was before the fire.

Now all bets are off.

If I’m going to die here, it will be on my own terms. I draw my knife, though it’s hardly more than a toothpick compared with the two swords strapped to the Shield’s back.

But he doesn’t reach for either of them. Instead, he tilts his head to the side. It’s an unexpectedly boylike gesture.

What in the sixth hell is he playing at?

“Shouldn’t you be with the Prince?” I ask, hoping on my father’s life that the Empire’s heir is also still in the land of the living.

He gently pats his side. “I’m healing, but I’m of limited use to him in my, ah, traditional role. Doesn’t mean I won’t do what I must to serve him. And you, it seems, might be able to help. I’ve no interest in causing you harm. If you know anything about what happened, now’s the time to speak.”

Another interrogation? No, thanks. “I was just a servant. I wasn’t privy to—”

“Rangers are coming for you. It’s only by Azered’s mercy I found you first. So you can be honest with me, or I can leave you to them. Your choice.”

I study him as I take that in. It’s too dark to read his features, but he’s carrying a travel pack, stuffed full. He expects to be gone some time. Maybe he isn’t looking to drag me back to Aphorai as soon as he gets what he wants.

But what I know, where I’m going—why would an imperial bodyguard believe me? Then Luz’s voice echoes in my mind: It was the Prince’s.

I rummage in my satchel, feeling for the book. It’s not like I’m going to be able to decipher it on my own, so I doubt there’s much point in withholding it from him. I heft its weight, then pass it over. “Do you recognize this?”

The Shield takes the book—so much smaller cradled in his square hands. “Where did you get this?” he demands.

“Some girl acting as a servant. But she knew too much for any servant I’d known. She said the book was the Prince’s, then sent me to look for something to help him.”

“I thought it was destroyed in the fire.” He lets out a sigh and tucks the book into his pack. Then he straightens his shoulders, as if he’s decided something. “You shouldn’t go to your village. That’ll be the first place they’ll hunt for you.”

I glare at him. “Just because I’m common doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

“I didn’t say that,” he says, holding up his hands.

“So how did you find me?”

“One of the palace guards. Said you grew up together.”

I grit my teeth. Barden.

“Lovers’ quarrel?”

I turn away and climb into Lil’s saddle, half expecting to be yanked back to the sand.

But the Shield doesn’t move to stop me.

“Look,” I say, my fingers twining in mane. “The only thing I know for sure is that I’m being played. Not like that’s anything new these days. But I’ve got a lead on something that might help your Prince. It’s flimsy, but it’s a lead.”

His face is only dimly lit by the stars and the bloodred smolder of the Flower Moon. Even so, there’s something intimidating about his gaze, as if he’s the one with the high ground glowering down at me.

“I’m going to find the Library of the Lost.”

He snorts. “That’s a myth.”

“Like I said—flimsy. As flyaway as temple smoke. But the person who gave me that book also told me the only place to find answers for your Prince is the Library. I’m desperate enough to gamble. Are you?”

He kicks a boot in the sand and stares down at it for a long moment.

“There’s something else, too. Something Sephine said before she died. Seems your Prince won’t last to become Emperor.”

His head snaps up. “What did she say?”

“ ‘When the lion wears the lost crown, he’ll not live through the night.’ ”

He mutters under his breath and begins to pace, more predator’s prowl than nervous fidgeting.

“Why couldn’t you just have a camel like everyone else?” he growls.

“What sort of question is that?”

“Do they not teach you history out here? Never heard of the demise of Emperor Mulreth?”

The Mulreth Saga? Please. It’s one of Father’s favorite tales from beyond the Empire. Though I’m betting it was told very differently to whatever version the Shield’s heard. “Yeah, yeah, I know, the horses got one whiff of camel musk and the cavalry were routed. And fair enough. Camels stink.” I wrinkle my nose. Right now, so do I.

“I don’t care what it smells of. I do care what tracks it leaves behind. One horse in a thousand camels …”

“With this breeze, the desert will swallow her tracks soon enough. Lil and I have been together for turns. I know her weaknesses, her strengths. I trust her. Which is more than I can say for you.”

He grimaces. Serves him right. I shouldn’t be the only one who has to earn respect around here. “If you’re coming with me, you’ve got a choice. On horseback, on foot with that love tap from your lion friend only held together by stitches … or go steal a camel. Good luck to you if you do, because Lil and I will be long gone.”

He checks his pack, pulling the straps taut so it sits snug against his back. Without a word, he starts jogging south, the direction I’d been heading before he crept up on me.

Stubborn fool. I give him a mile, two at most, before his wound flares and he’s sapped of energy.

I reach down and give Lil’s neck a pat. “He’s made his decision, girl. Let’s go.”

We don’t speak as we leave Aphorai behind, too intent on whether we’ll be noticed, whether an alarm will be raised. The Shield’s pace matches Lil’s—their footfalls drumming a muffled beat in the sand. How he keeps going with a wound like that is bordering on unnatural. The thought sends an extra ripple of unease through me.

When we reach the larger dunes, we slow to a walk for a spell. I look back toward the city. It’s nothing more than an orange-gold smudge where the night sky meets the waves of the desert. Except … I squint. Are those lights moving?

I point. “What’s going on back there?”

“Azered’s breath,” the Shield mutters. He scans the horizon in the opposite direction. “Where do these dunes end? How far until the landscape changes?”

“Days. Weeks, in some directions. But there’s a gorge to the south. A bunch of seasonal streams run off it, like the fronds of a palm leaf.”

“How long?”

“Depends how fast. A few hours?”

“Shuffle forward,” he growls.

The next thing I know he’s vaulted up onto Lil behind me. So much for old Mulreth.

“Go,” he says, voice gravelly in my ear. “Head for the gorge, and if you want to live, don’t stop. For anything.”

We ride.

Lil surges under us, her powerful muscles bunching and stretching as she climbs dunes and gallops headlong down the other side. The Shield bounces around behind me. I’m afraid without the benefit of stirrups he’s going to lose his seat, or worse still, make me lose mine.

“Wrap your arms around me,” I tell him over my shoulder.

“I hardly think that’s—”

“Just do it! You’re slowing us down!”

His arms circle around my waist. Only minutes ago, I thought those same hands might choke or stab the life from me. They may still.

“Now, grip with your thighs, not your entire leg. Get your feet out of her ribs.”

The weight behind me shifts again, his broad chest pressing against my back. Better balanced, Lil finds a renewed burst of speed. I crouch forward up the next dune, urging her on, and lean back again as she plunges down the other side.

The Shield moves with me.

He’s a fast learner. At least there’s that.

Cool night air brushes my cheeks, the headwind holding no clues as to whether our pursuers are gaining. But Lil soon begins to radiate with the heat of her exertion, and the grassy smell of horse sweat fills my nostrils. All I can hear is her labored breathing, her hooves churning the sand, my heart thundering in my ears.

I risk a glance behind. Lights trail out from Aphorai like gems threading a necklet. They’re not gaining ground on us yet—their camels aren’t as fast. But they can endure longer than Lil can, especially when she’s carrying two people.

“How long can she keep this up?” the Shield asks, as if he’s heard my thoughts.

“Not much longer. We’re going to have to let her rest soon.”

“We have to get to that gorge first.”

“Come on, girl,” I say, willing her strength. “You can do it. Not far now.”

But the gorge doesn’t appear, and Lil’s head starts to lower, her sides heaving against my legs.

I check over my shoulder again, but we’re in the valley of a massive dune and I can’t see anything but dark sand and sky. “You can ride a horse to death, you know,” I tell the Shield.

“She’s not stopping.”

“She won’t. She’s trained too well. She’ll keep going until it’s too late. We have to rest her.”

“It’ll be too late for all of us if we don’t make it to that gorge.”

I’m on the verge of calling a halt when the terrain begins to flatten. Lil’s hooves strike something hard.

Sandstone.

The gorge.

There are too many dunes between us and our pursuers to spot their torches through the night. Unless, of course, they’ve put them out, so we can’t tell where they are. There’s a cheerful thought.

“Any sign of them?” I ask.

He scans the horizon. “No. But if they’re Rangers, that’s meaningless. Ride along the rock. They’ll at least have to choose which direction we’ve gone when the obvious tracks run out. Hurry.”

I peer down into the gorge as we skirt the rim. It’s dark, with even darker shadows where the cliffs overhang the canyon floor. “If we’re going down there, we need to dismount.”

The Shield slides from Lil’s back. He gingerly stretches his arms, hissing a breath through his teeth as one hand goes to the bandages around his chest. I’m going to have to look at those. And soon. The last thing we need is a reopened wound going bad.

I free my feet from the stirrups and drop down behind him. We move under an overhang at the lip of the canyon.

Lil snorts, spraying foam that had accumulated around her bit. I shove my waterskin into the Shield’s hands and then cup my own, gesturing at him. “She needs water.”

The Shield does as I ask.

It’s not much but it’ll have to do. I flip her reins over her head and tie them together so they don’t snag on anything.

“You don’t need to lead her?”

“She’s better at finding her own path.”

We head out from the overhang. The Shield finds a less steep section eroded out of the rock and starts down.

I’ve explored parts of the canyon, but I’ve never tried to descend at this gorge, and never at night. Barden and I used to come here when we were old enough to be let out of sight. More to the point—when my father deemed Barden old enough to accompany me in case we ran into trouble. Funny how everyone seemed fine with that, with us taking overnight trips, as if they’d already decided our future was fused together.

I glance back. No torches have appeared, and Lil has begun to pick her way down the slope, a silhouette as dark as starless sky. Good girl.

My foot comes down on a loose rock. It rolls out from under my weight. My ankle twists. The other foot begins to slide on loose scree. The gorge is a toothless grin, gleeful at the prospect of swallowing me whole. I teeter on the edge, arms flailing.

A strong hand grips my shoulder.

“What are you playing at?” the Shield fumes.

“What are you doing creeping up on people in the dark again?”

“If you need help, tell me. You can’t expect me to predict what you’re capable of and what you’re not.”

“That could have happened to anyone,” I retort. “And I’m fine, aren’t I?”

He grunts. “Mission first, pride second.”

I flip two curled fingers at his back. Excuse me if almost plunging to my death got up his nose.

At the bottom of the gorge, silence reigns. Lil dips her head to drink from the pool and doesn’t let up until I take her reins. “Go easy. We can stop again soon,” I promise, rubbing her still-damp neck.

She snorts but lets me lead her through the water. The going is slow as we feel out each footstep on the slick pebbles, sometimes skirting around boulders, sometimes clambering over them—every time with my heart in my throat, worried about Lil’s legs.

Part of me wants to leave the water and run again, run and never stop. But covering our tracks will buy us more time than a half-hearted sprint from an exhausted mare.

Because if it doesn’t, we’re all out of options.