I pressed my fingers briefly against his, allowing myself one steadying breath, before rising and following Wyers's silent gesture toward the tent flap, toward the forest path that would lead me back into a performance I'd perfected through an entire lifetime of surviving people exactly like Caspian Vane.
The journey through the trees felt endless despite Torres and Kell's practiced, silent pace beside me, every step drawing me closer to a confrontation I dreaded more than I'd dreaded the ambush itself. When we finally reached the tree line overlooking the border road, I caught sight of my uncle's men fanned out along the roadside, tending wounded, searching the underbrush with grim determination and there, mounted separately from the rest, unmistakable even at a distance, sat Caspian.
H
