Nancy's fingers shook as she tore bread into the bowl.
“She'll do it," she said, more to herself than to Isabella. “One hour. At moonrise. I swore it."
“Don't swear," Isabella said, staring at the ledger on the table. “Write. Names, routes, anyone who owes you, anyone who owes me."
Nancy looked up. “You think she'll back out?"
“I think," Isabella said evenly, “that when someone hands you a promise, you keep the receipt."
---
They spent the afternoon preparing the way soldiers prepare without calling it war.
“The back gate?" Isabella asked.
Nancy nodded. “Mira's on kitchen duty tonight. She'll open it."
“The guards?"
“Two posted at the orchard path. Both bored and both owe me favors."
“And the maid?"
Nancy's mouth twisted. “Bribed with coin and a warning she believes is real."
