“Will Estrid’s troops chase them over the border?” I asked.

“Depends on how pissed she is,” Odd said. “Technically she’s not allowed, but since the plague...”

All bets were off.

I gazed at the quiet women. They resembled a brown carpet spread along the forest floor. Fydelia moved among them, talking and checking on their cuts and bruises. Melina stayed with the wounded, whom I’d been neglecting. Grunting in pain, I stood, intent on helping.

Fydelia noticed me and came over. “Avry, I want to thank you for—”

I held up my hand. “Still not out of the woods yet.”

She smiled at the pun. “We won’t go back without a fight.”

“We’re thinking you’ll need to separate into small groups of five or six at some point,” Loren said. “You can all disperse back to your lives.”

“Oh, no,” Fydelia said. “We won’t be doing that. We’re trained soldiers. Avry told us about Prince Ryne and his efforts. We plan to fight for him.”

Shocked, I gazed at her. “All of you?”

“At least ninety percent. A few are older, and the years in the monastery affected others.” She tapped her temple.

“That’s generous,” Loren said.

“It’s logical. What’s the point in going home? If Cellina’s army wins, or that Skeleton King, we all suffer the consequences. Better to not let that happen.”

“I wish Estrid believed that,” I said.

Quain had opened his eyes while Fydelia talked. His brow wrinkled as he pursed his lips. “Do you think Prince Ryne would welcome us back now?”

“Oh, yes. With open arms,” Loren said.

“Do we want to go back?” he asked.

“It’s not a matter of desire. It’s like Fydelia said, logic. He needs us, and he’s going to be very happy to have twenty-three hundred more soldiers,” I said.

“Maybe he won’t argue with you anymore,” Quain said.

“I doubt it,” Kerrick said.

He and Flea joined us. The dark smudges under Kerrick’s eyes were lighter and he moved with his usual grace. Flea must have successfully shared his energy. Flea’s bangs covered his eyes. I studied him, seeking signs of fatigue. He hunched his shoulders and plopped next to Quain.

“Why?” Quain asked Kerrick.

“They have different views. He’ll do what needs to be done for us to win the war, even if that means sacrificing squads. Avry’s more focused on the individual.”

“If that was true, we’d be sitting here with just Melina,” Loren said.

“We set out to save Melina because of Avry. She had no idea this would happen,” Kerrick said.

“I don’t care why you came,” Fydelia said. “I’m just happy you did. We owe our freedom to Avry.”

“No. You owe it to yourselves. If you hadn’t kept training, you’d still be inside the monastery,” I said.

“Yes, yes. You’re all wonderful,” Odd said. “However, we do have a company of soldiers on our tail and probably should get moving.”

The monkeys and Flea looked at Kerrick.

“One hundred and sixty-two soldiers.”

“Find us more swords and we’ll take care of them,” Fydelia said with confidence.

“Best to outsmart them for now,” Kerrick said.

I recognized the glint in his eyes. “You have a plan?”

“Yes. I’ll hide your tracks and plant a false one for the soldiers to follow.”

“That’s a big job,” Odd said. “Think you can pull it off?”

Kerrick didn’t answer.

“If Kerrick says he can, then he can,” Loren said.

Quain smiled. “Yeah, he’s king of the weeds now.”

Instead of throwing an acorn at Quain, Kerrick’s expression turned queasy. I suspected there was something he hadn’t told us.

* * *

The guards stationed outside the infirmary blocked our way. They pointed their swords at me, Kerrick, and the monkeys. The bulk of the women stayed behind with the others and Huxley. Kerrick’s trick with the tracks had worked long enough to give us a nice lead. And once we’d crossed through Tobory and into Pomyt, Estrid’s soldiers abandoned the chase. With stops for provisions and sleep, the trip to the infirmary had taken us a total of twenty days.

“We’ve orders from Prince Ryne to arrest you on sight,” a sergeant said.

Quain laughed. “You can try.”

“Easy,” Kerrick said.

“Where is Prince Ryne?” I asked.

The sergeant puffed out his chest in indignation. “You are traitors. We will not divulge his location to you.”

“Uh-huh. Did he return to HQ?” I asked.

But the sergeant would not be deterred. He yanked out a pair of manacles and his squad followed suit.

“How many of those do you have with you?” Quain asked.

“Enough for all of you.”

“Are you sure?” Quain whistled.

The bushes rustled and a hundred armed women surrounded us.

“You want to answer that question again?” Quain smirked.

* * *

“Two thousand, three hundred and forty-six,” Ryne repeated in disbelief.

Haggard, thin, and haunted, Ryne appeared to have had a rough time of it since we’d left over a month ago. Guilt for leaving tweaked in my chest until I remembered our argument.