But as I left the city limits and rode down the darkened road, I couldn’t let the possible threats slow me down. Fear was only another enemy, and I had far too many others to worry about just now. Cedric’s salvation was within my grasp, and I would not be defeated.

Mira had given me back the sheet with Walter’s names and locations, and I carried it now. I also had a letter he’d written, authorizing his contact to yield the painting. It was a two-hour trip south, then back to the city, and then another two hours up north to the buyer. I’d be out all night, and there was a good chance I might not make the trial’s start tomorrow. I urged Beth on, knowing I risked exhausting her.

Amazingly, I encountered almost no one on the road. Those I did pass didn’t give me a second glance. It was deep night when I rode into Idylwood, a sleepy village that showed the promise of eventually becoming a flourishing town. Walter’s contact was the town’s blacksmith, and I found his home easily. I tied Beth up near a trough, which she drank from gratefully.

The blacksmith was surprised to see me—even more surprised that I was a woman. He read the letter and handed it back with a shrug. “I guess Walter employs all types now. Come with me.”

He led me to a locked shed in the back that, when opened, revealed mostly a lot of junk. I worried what shape my painting would be in. He moved things aside and finally pulled out a cloth-wrapped, rectangular object. I unwrapped it and examined it by the light of my lantern. It was my painting, in exactly the same condition as I’d last seen it in Wisteria Hollow’s cellar.

“Satisfied?” he asked.

“Very. Thank you.”

I wrapped it back up in its padding, and he helped me tie it to the back of Beth’s saddle. It wasn’t ideal for transportation, but I felt confident the canvas wouldn’t tear. A little bouncing wouldn’t hurt it much.

Beth and I rode off back on the black road to Cape Triumph. A quarter moon offered little guidance, and I was glad this was a well-worn and traveled road. When I reached the edge of the city, I ended up circling around it. Taking the extra time seemed like a better choice than being recognized.

The road north was narrower than the one south, surrounded by thick woods that made the way even darker. I knew I should go slowly in case of unseen obstacles, but I was growing uneasy about the passing time. It had to be after midnight, and I still had a lot of traveling to do—not to mention finalizing the paperwork back in Cape Triumph. There were only a few more witnesses in the trial. I didn’t know how soon the tribunal would make a ruling. It was possible the paperwork might overturn a conviction. But I knew sometimes, especially for heretics, punishment was enacted immediately. I couldn’t spare the time.

I urged poor tired Beth into a hard gallop. For all my fine talk about being a great horsewoman, what I was doing was incredibly foolhardy. That was confirmed for me only a few minutes later when Beth suddenly stumbled, nearly throwing me and the painting from her back. She managed to catch herself just in time but came to a quick stop, refusing to go further. I dismounted and tried to see what obstacle she’d tripped on. As it turned out, she’d lost a horseshoe.

“Damn it,” I cried into the night. An owl answered in return. Further examination showed Beth didn’t seem to have damaged her leg or hoof, but there was no way I’d be able to ride her at the earlier rate. And from her exhausted appearance, she probably wouldn’t have let me do it much longer anyway.

I got back on her. Even at an easier trot, every equestrian instructor I’d ever had would chastise me for this. It risked further injury. I hoped that wouldn’t happen—just as I hoped the painting’s buyer would sell me a horse.

But Beth refused to budge. I was finally forced to go on foot, leading her behind me. Each step down the road was agonizing—not because of the physical toll, but the mental. I was weary and frustrated. The moon was traveling farther and farther across the sky, and all I could think about was how each delay put Cedric at risk. At least two hours had passed when I heard a thunder of hoofbeats behind me. I instantly became guarded, not knowing if this would be a help or hindrance. At the rate the riders were coming, there’d be no chance to divert into the woods, so I simply moved to the side and waited for what was to come. I put my hand on my knife.

Five men rode up, slowing when they reached me. One held a lantern. They all had weathered faces, with worn clothing suggestive of a laborious life. I didn’t recognize any of them. But they recognized me.

“Countess,” one said cheerfully. “We’re here to escort you back to Osfrid.”

Chapter 30

I took a step back, trying to calm my rapid breathing and pounding heart.

“You’ve made some mistake, sir,” I said. “I’m a common laborer, making a delivery.”

“A little late for that,” said one of the other men. “Looks more to me like you’re trying to run for it before things blow up in Cape Triumph. Not sure I blame you.”

“We aren’t going to hurt you,” said the first man. He dismounted, and a couple of others followed suit. “Just need to ship you back and collect our payday. Come with us, and make it easy on everyone.”

I tightened my hold on the knife and took another step back. I was almost off the road and wondered how far I’d get if I took off into the brushy woods. Probably not very. The terrain looked rough, and I’d likely fall over some log before getting ten feet away.

“She ain’t going to make it easy.” The first man reached for me, and I swung out with the knife, cutting through his shirt and slashing shallowly across his chest.

“Bitch!” he cried. “Get her!”

The other men surged forward, and I knew I couldn’t beat those odds. As with Warren’s attack, I refused to make it simple for them. If they expected a woman to be easy prey, they’d soon learn otherwise. I dropped to the ground as they reached me, causing them to run into one another. I wiggled away as best I could, stabbing one man in the calf. I had the sense to yank the knife out and scurry away as he fell yelping to the ground. I scrambled to my feet and ran—but was quickly stopped. A hand grabbed my hair and jerked me backward. I fell down, slamming the side of my head against the dirt road.

“Don’t injure her!” yelled their leader. “We need her intact.”

“She’s got two months at sea to heal,” countered the man nearest me. He tried to grab me, but a wild swing of the blade kept him at bay. His companions were moving in, and one finally managed to knock the knife out of my hand. Surrounded, I finally slowed down and accepted defeat—for now. They had to get me back to Cape Triumph and onto a ship. Plenty of time to escape.

Sensing their victory, the men came to a standstill and awaited their next order. That moment of silence was suddenly filled with the pounding of more hooves. Everyone turned to stare down the road—everyone except me. I used their distraction to slip through two men and grab my knife.

But when the riders came into view, even I was taken aback. A man and a woman slowed before us. They both rode white horses and wore black masks across their eyes. The man nearest me gasped.

“Pirates!”

“Tom Shortsleeves!”

“And Lady Aviel,” said another. He spoke the name like that of a demon, ironic since she bore the name of one of the six glorious angels.