The first sign was the silence.
Vasquez fighters who had been shouting orders only moments earlier went quiet as a new line of torches appeared through the trees. These were not the wild, scattered lights of a raiding party. They moved in perfect ranks, steady and unhurried, as if the chaos of the night did not concern them at all.
Richard felt the change in the air before he fully understood it. Beside him, Alaric had gone completely still.
“You know them,” Richard said.
Alaric’s voice was low. “I hoped I would never see that banner again.”
The lead riders cleared the treeline. At their head rode a silver-haired woman whose posture carried the kind of authority that did not need to raise its voice. Behind her, a pale gray banner lifted into the torchlight — a wolf’s head circled by s
