Hayden waited at the border like a boy called to punishment, hood low, hands shoved into his coat as if he could hide his pulse there. The birches made a pale gate behind him. Darkspire land breathed cold and thin.
“You are late,” he said.
“I’m careful,” I answered. He glanced past me, searching the tree line for Thorne. “Is he—”
“He is with Xander,” I said, and the relief in his eyes made me smile. “As per agreed,” I added.
“Right, we don’t have long,” he said. We moved without speaking. He knew which roots to avoid, which boards didn’t creak, which patrols were lazy, and which ones watched the angles that hurt to think about. Twice, he lifted a hand, and we melted into the dark while a pair of warriors passed so close I could hear leather whisper against leather. My lungs learned to
