I have to agree with Maven’s assessment. If Tiberias really is here to bargain with Montfort, to strengthen their alliance, he will certainly try to prove himself and win their loyalty. What better way than to fight for them?

The raiders meet us at the agreed-upon location, a rise allowing full view of the surrounding landscape. They are masked and veiled, sitting astride smoke-spitting, old-fashioned cycles with even their eyes obscured by riding goggles. Silvers, all of them. Exiled from their own lands when the mountain kingdoms fell. Stripped of their own birthrights as lords and rulers. They outnumber us, but I feel little fear. I am a warrior by birth, bred by the strongest nymphs in my kingdom. And my five escorts are just the same—strong, noble, and useful.

Jidansa is still with me, eager to serve as well as protect. She’s careful to position herself between me and any raider who might come too close.

I keep my head down, my own face shadowed. The raiders are an isolated kind, and they probably wouldn’t know a princess of the Lakelands or the queen of Norta on sight, but it’s best this way. The others speak for me, going over the arrangement.

Our team of six is easy to transport, each of us clinging to one of the raiders as they ferry us across the plain. They know this land better than any of us, and we don’t even need to use our shadow of House Haven to hide our journey. Not yet.

The mountains in the distance loom closer with every passing second. They look more like a wall than any mountains I’ve ever seen. Fear tries to eat at my resolve, but I don’t let it. Instead I narrow my eyes and sharpen my focus on the task at hand, leaving little room for anything else.

As the hours bleed together, I run over the plan in my head. Each obstacle to be surmounted.

Cross the border.

That is done easily. The raiders know their paths and they know Montfort’s blind spots. They follow a stream through tight, dense pine forest, and only when we start climbing into the foothills do I realize we’re on the other side of the invisible dividing line between Prairie and Montfort.

Pay for your passage.

The string of jewels is mine. Sapphire, silver, and diamond. I hand them over at gunpoint. Our Haven shadow, a young, stocky Sentinel on loan from my royal husband, gives up the more valuable piece of the bargain. His own house is split, torn in two by the civil war erupting across Norta. The head of his house fights for Tiberias, but the majority of his kin remain at Maven’s side. An admirable thing, to be loyal to country and king over family. Even if that king is Maven Calore.

He doesn’t wear his Sentinel mask, leaving the black-jeweled tradition behind. Without it, he seems human. Blue eyes, red hair gleaming in the sunlight. Sentinel Haven gives the raiders the location of our resource drop some miles north. Crates of food, coin, batteries, as well as arms and ammunition to feed their endeavors. The raiders waste no time leaving us on the eastern mountainside, as high as they could ride. I never see their faces. But at least one has blond hair, a few strands of it visible beneath his wrapped head coverings.

Climb.

The waterfalls are simple enough. They act as moving ladders, and I use the water to pull us up and over a great many cliffs. I eventually lose count of them. We follow the stream backward, against the current, with little difficulty. Between my ability and that of another nymph, Laeron of the Nortan House Osanos, all six of us manage to get into the high valley as the stars prick to life overhead. Still, the way is rough. The air thins and my breathing turns shallow, making my steps harder with every inch of the ascent. But I am no stranger to physical exertion. I trained at Citadel of the Lakes from childhood.

The Haven man keeps his hands free, fingers twitching now and then. He blankets us in invisibility, allowing us to move through the pines unseen. It’s an odd thing, to look down at your own feet and see nothing but the underbrush. At least I don’t have to look at Rydal, the Rhambos strongarm. On the way up, his bulk was distorted by the two bodies strapped across his shoulders like a pack. Another part of my own plan. A bloody part.

Again, I push away a shiver of fear.

We began our climb farther north of the city, forcing us to cut back south to reach the river. It is dammed downstream, in the valley where Ascendant lies, creating a crooked lake. I feel some weight lift when we reach the water, its banks quiet and empty. Together, the six of us descend beneath its surface, leaving no trace of ourselves behind.

I turn my attentions on the current, creating a channel of flowing water along the riverbed. Laeron does as we planned. Bubbles form around our heads, giving each of us a shield of breathable air. It’s an old nymph trick, something a child could do. And so we pass in secret along the waterway, riding the current through the turns of the valley. It’s almost pitch-black, but I trust the water. The last miles pass in forced silence, filled only with the sound of my own breathing and my own pounding heartbeat.

The Ascendant city lake is deep and full of fish. Once or twice, I jump at the brush of scales in darkness as we navigate to the edge of the water. I shrug off the sensation, focusing on the next step in my plan. Several fine estates have docks on the lake, and we use them as cover. I surface first, raising my eyes just above the waterline. After hours in the wilderness and underwater, even the soft lights of the city are glaring. I don’t blink or flinch. I force my eyesight to adjust as quickly as I can. We have a schedule to keep.

No alarms yet. No warning signals. Good.

Sentinel Haven shrouds us again as we leave the water, but even he can’t hide the wet footprints that trail us through the alleyways. That is left to Laeron and me. We wring ourselves dry with a few twists, using our abilities to squeeze every drop out. I condense the resulting puddles, casting away floating orbs of water into the nearest plant or gutter. Leaving no trace.

I spent the flight to Prairie memorizing the layout of Ascendant, using the map from Bracken. It unsettles me to know so much of my plan is built on someone else’s work. I have to trust the information I was given, even if one wrong piece could mean failure. Though the Montfort capital is confusing, a jagged network of streets and steps along both sides of the valley floor, I was able to trace the quickest route from the dammed lake up to where Bracken’s children are being held.

Not in the palace, according to the Piedmont spies, but in an observatory.

From the safety of a dark and silent alleyway, I glance up the stepped slopes to the domed building high on the mountainside.

My legs shudder at the thought of climbing another few thousand feet. But I push forward without a sound, schooling my breath to a low, even pace. In through the nose, out through the mouth, in tandem with my steps.

The strongarm has little trouble with the stairs, despite the extra weight of his cargo. And the Haven Sentinel is better trained than any of us; raised to defend the king and his family, he is in prime physical form. The same can be said of Laeron. I’m loath to trust a Nortan, let alone three at my side, but it couldn’t be helped. An even representation was required for politics’ sake.

Jidansa is the only companion I trust completely. The other Lakelander with us sets my teeth on edge. I loathe Niro of the Eskariol Line, but we need him and his talents. He’s a skin healer, a strange one. A person gifted with the ability to save life should not enjoy taking it as much as he does.

I can hear him breathing, inhaling and exhaling rapidly as we ascend. Though I’m glad to have a healer as talented as he is at our backs, I wish he weren’t necessary. Niro takes too much delight in what he must do before the night is done.

“With luck, they won’t be noticed until midday,” he whispers. “My work will be perfect.” His voice is smooth, silken. Niro comes from a long line of diplomats just as adept at healing political alliances as they are at fixing broken bones.

“Keep silent,” I murmur back at him. The ghost of his presence is somehow colder than the mountain air.

Ascendant is not undefended. Guard posts and patrols dot the way, though far less than I’ve seen in the Lakelands or the Nortan capital. These foolish Montfortans think their mountains and their secrets are enough to keep them safe.

I glance over my shoulder, at the other side of the valley. I feel the swish of my black braid but can’t see it. What must be the premier’s palace sprawls across the height opposite us, with other estates and government buildings lining its edges. It gleams white in the starlight, with many lights glowing from balconies, windows, and terraces.