Best Case Scenario: I make good time, masking my trail by using the trees, and create a significant lead time before this man’s body is discovered at watch change.

Worst Case Scenario: I bring the entire Rowansmark military down around our heads before I’ve even had a chance to deal with Melkin or the tracker.

I lean down and measure the dead man’s foot. Slightly bigger than mine, but it will do. Tugging his boots off ignites an unending stream of agony through my chest, but I don’t have time for pain medicine now. Several minutes pass while I switch our boots and wipe the ground around him so no one can see what I’ve just done.

It takes everything I have to walk away without limping and giving myself away to every half-decent tracker stationed with the battalion. I wander a bit, brushing away my tracks, until I find what I’m looking for: the edge of the military encampment.

Now my boot marks won’t stand out. With any luck, no one will even bother to look for me so close to the heart of the battalion. And if they did, all they’d find is the curious footprint of a Rowansmark man who stretched up to his tiptoes for a moment in the middle of the forest floor.

It’s going to hurt like hell. I grab a twig from the ground and wedge it in between my teeth so I can bite down against the pain without making a sound. Then I look at the low-hanging branch skimming the air a foot above me, gather myself, and leap.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

RACHEL

“We’re bringing that back to Baalboden.”

Melkin hasn’t moved from his original seat by the fire’s remains, though Quinn and Willow left a while ago to weave branches, vines, and moss together into a treetop cradle they can sleep in for the night. I’ve been sitting by the torchlight examining the symbols on the wand, trying to figure out what they mean.

“Yes. We are.” Though I’m not about to willingly hand the Commander a weapon capable of destroying everything in our world.

“I have to give it to the Commander. Alone. I have to do that, Rachel. For Eloise.” His voice sounds desperate and dark, but where once I felt compassion, now I feel nothing.

“No.” I lay the device in its cloth and begin carefully rolling it back up.

“For Eloise.”

“Not even Eloise is worth giving the Commander the power to obliterate anyone who stands up to him.”

He curses and crawls toward me. I jerk the device toward my chest and slide my knife free.

“What about Logan? What about rescuing him? He’s all you have left!”

I hear the accusation beneath his words. He thought we were the same. Willing to do anything, no matter how unthinkable, if it would save us from loss. The Commander thought we were the same too.

They’re both wrong.

“Eloise and Logan are dead unless we destroy the Commander.”

“No.” He shakes his head, fury leaping into his eyes.

I’ll see his fury and double it. “Yes! Get your head out of the sand, Melkin. You work for a treacherous monster who never keeps his word. Never. The second he has what he wants from you, he’ll kill you. He’ll probably kill Eloise in front of you first, just because he can. And then you’ll have done nothing with your life but hand the worst man in the world the power to rule it.”

“Stop it!” He screams at me, spit flying from his mouth, his hand curled around his knife as if he needs a target.

“I won’t stop. Not until he’s dead. And now I have the means to do it.” I push the cloth-wrapped device into the inner pocket of my cloak. “Either you go along with my plan, or you get out of my way. I don’t care which you choose.”

He drives his knife into the ground at his feet, and looks at me with the kind of loathing that once would have made my skin crawl. Now, his opinion of me means just as little as his foolish desire to sacrifice the rest of the world for one more moment with his doomed wife.

My father did not die in vain. I’m going to make sure of it.

God help Melkin if he tries to stop me.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

LOGAN

I tree-leap as quietly as possible. Taking my time. Edging along the branches and biting on my twig hard as I use my knees to cushion each landing.

I was right. It hurts like hell. Every leap strains my ribcage. Every landing rattles it until I want to curl up, swallow enough medicine to obliterate the pain, and sleep for hours.

But I don’t dare stop. Any second now, someone will find the dead guard and raise the alarm. I probably should’ve dragged his body into the woods, hidden it, and then doubled back to hide the trail, but the pain and weakness in my ribcage would’ve made that too time intensive. Better to flee as quickly as possible.

I’m maybe sixty yards from the encampment when I hear a shout go up. They’ve found him. And I can’t leap quietly enough while I have Rowansmark military combing the woods for me. Quickly assessing the trees around me, I choose a tall silver maple with plenty of leafy coverage but no low-hanging branches and make the three leaps it takes to reach it.

Pain clouds my thoughts and dulls my instincts as I climb into the upper reaches of the tree. About two thirds of the way up, I find what I need and settle into a secure cradle of branches. Two of the limbs are thick enough to hold me should I need to leap, and both reach into the surrounding trees. I’m high enough that no one from the ground can look up and see me through all the foliage.

It’s the best I’m going to get for the moment.

Quietly pulling my bag around, I take out the half-gone pack of medicinal powder and a Rowansmark-made cloaking device I once traded for with the highwaymen outside Baalboden.