I bow my head in gratitude. "Your trust means everything. We ride for all our futures."
She nods. "At moonrise."
I catch the body, hoist myself back into the saddle, and Kael follows. Silence hovers over the camp, all eyes on us now—rogues honing blades, piling arrows, painting arrows black for their silent flight amid the smoke.
I feel all things keened, as if the score hums against my marrow, as in to lead me through what's next. At dusk we ride for the watchtower—our ploy to cut off the supply lines of Blackfang and inspire unity.
The sky darkens and the world outside our camp becomes an ashy twilight. Campfires crackle, sending flashes of orange into the inky sky. Kael and I slink through the forest with Jace, Mara and a group of a dozen rogues, Phantoms amongst the dark. Every leaf under the hooves of our horses whispers of danger.
