The man’s voice is faint. “You make an example out of them. Carve them up and burn the pieces.”

“And that’s how I treat those who haven’t wronged me personally,” the Commander says. “Imagine what I do to those who kill my men and steal from me. Adam, the left eye. And then an ear, I think. After that, I’ll ask my first question.”

“No, wait! I’ll talk. Please.” The man’s voice shakes. “Please, I’ll tell you what you want to know. The girls—”

“I don’t care about the girls. I want—”

“Yes, we do.” I glare at the Commander. “We care about the girls. And the horses. And anything else your friends stole from us.”

The man’s words rush from him as if he hopes by talking fast enough, he can avoid the inevitable. “We took them to our camp. The girls, the horses . . .”

“Orion, check my tent. See if my belongings are there,” the Commander snaps.

See if the device is still there, he means. If it isn’t, he’ll lead the charge to track down the highwaymen, and we’ll have to pray the thieves don’t decide to experiment with the tech. If they realize what they’ve got, there’s no way we’ll ever get close enough to their camp to rescue the girls.

No way we’ll be able to ransom Rachel from Rowansmark either.

“It’s gone!” Orion calls. No one needs to ask him what he means.

My heart sinks. Frantically, I start running scenarios.

“How far away is this camp?” the Commander snarls at the highwayman.

“A day’s journey by horseback. Northeast. At the old city just south of the big mountain. You can’t miss it. Please, let me go. I won’t tell them you’re coming. I won’t even go in that direction. They’ll never know—”

“No, they won’t.” The Commander stands, wraps his hands around Adam’s, and drives the sword through the man’s eye and into the ground beneath his head.

The second he stops twitching, I grab the sword from Adam, yank it free, and wipe it clean on the bank. “Adam, my sword fell to the bottom of the stream near the body of a highwayman I killed. The current isn’t strong enough to have taken it. I need to use your weapon and ask you to retrieve mine at first light.” Shoving the sword into my sheath, I meet his gaze.

“I’m going with you,” he says.

“There are only two horses left. We can’t all go. I need you to help Frankie. . . .” I look around, realizing I haven’t heard anything from Frankie since the start of the fight.

“Frankie? Frankie!” I stalk toward the camp, my hands cold and shaking, as I see him hunched over a prone figure. It takes three steps for my brain to acknowledge that the person he’s crouched beside is crumpled in an awkward angle no living person could achieve. Another five steps before I’m ready to acknowledge that the person I’m looking at is Drake.

Drake, who gathered a group of revolutionaries long before I even dreamed of standing up to the Commander. Who sent his daughter to save my life while I was locked in Baalboden’s dungeon. Who stood by me and offered me quiet, consistent support and loyalty no matter what was going on around us.

Drake, who was my friend.

“Oh no.” I sink to my knees beside Drake’s trampled body. My throat closes and my eyes sting as I reach my hands out toward him as if I can somehow fix this.

Beside me, Frankie sobs once, and then curls over his knees and pounds the dirt with his fist.

“Who is it?” Adam calls from beside the horses, his voice shaky.

“Drake.” I have to force his name past my lips. I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach, my lungs refusing air even while I struggle to find words that won’t be enough. That are never enough. An hour ago, Drake was sitting next to me, encouraging me, treating me almost like a son. Laughing with his longtime friend, Frankie.

Now he’s one more in a list of people who’ve been ripped from us too soon.

“I’m sorry,” I say, and swallow hard against the lump in my throat. “We’ll have to bury him when I get back—”

“Go get Nola.” Frankie raises his eyes to mine. “Get Nola and Willow and Jodi.”

“Peter and Gregory are dead too,” Orion says as he walks the perimeter of our camp. The Commander swears viciously.

“Here,” Frankie whispers. He shoves something at me, and I wrap my hand around the slim outline of the Rowansmark device. “The highwaymen didn’t get into the tent. I did. Figured it would be easier to keep the Commander in line if we had all the cards on our side. Now I want you to use it. You hear me? You do whatever you have to do to rescue the girls.”

The device seems to weigh a hundred pounds as I move toward my bedroll, snatch my cloak, and shove the tech into an inner pocket. You do whatever you have to do.

He means that I should use the tanniyn.

I think of Jodi, tiny and trying so hard to be fearless. Of Willow, unflinchingly doing the right thing despite how she was raised. And Nola, gently reaching past Smithson’s angry silence when no one else could. And I think of the stories about what highwaymen do to the girls they capture.

For the first time since Baalboden burned, I find I have no qualms about using the tanniyn as a weapon. I grab two of my transmitters and shove those into my pocket as well. And then, I return to the Commander and mount the horse waiting for me.

“Logan, it’s Willow. I can’t just stay behind. I have to do something.” Adam stands beside my horse, his body vibrating with the need to act.