Shade pushed back the urge to grimace. “Unlock your compatriots.”

The woman took the keys from him, pulling another of the now-former slaves along, a boy who resembled her enough to be her brother.

“My name is Gwaun,” the eager man said. He was a typical Evendarian in looks— brown-haired, brown-eyed, and lanky.

“So it is.” Shade checked to see if the Olorian officer was breathing when Gwaun and his silent companion stepped away. She wasn’t. “Help the others.”

“What can I do?” Gwaun asked.

Stop talking to me, Shade thought. He wanted to say it, but even at his worst, he wasn’t that ill-mannered. His eyes flicked to the riders approaching. They didn’t wear uniforms— Lady help them, at least they weren’t that stupid— but they were in something approaching a military formation. There were eighteen of the fools, though.

Gwaun followed his gaze. “Are they Night Riders, too?”

“No.”

“But they’re not Olorians, right? I mean, you just killed a bunch—I mean nine of them, but that’s a lot more. Could you do that?” Gwaun barely paused for breath, his voice rising in pitch with each word. “Are they coming to take us back?”

“That’s not happening.” Shade turned back to Gwaun, resisting the urge to scare him into silence. Pity that murdering someone he’d just saved was bad form. “Whoever they are, they’re Evendarians. And you’re going to Median.”

“Median?” Gwaun squeaked.

“There are people who will help you there.”

“There are?”

Shade gritted his teeth until his jaw hurt; it didn’t take long. “Yes.”

Median was one of the northern towns that had a tacit agreement with the Night Riders: help people brought there, and Night Riders would continue to help them. Median was a big town, big enough for former slaves to get lost in. It was also one of many towns in the densely populated area at the top of the Bridge, which meant those needing to avoid Olorian eyes could shuffle between them and never be found.

“Thank you!” Gwaun’s eyes whipped wildly between Shade and the approaching riders. “I should’ve said that before.”

“There’s no need to thank me.” Shade loosened his sword in the scabbard, regretting putting her away with blood on the blade. “Now, step back.”

“Do you think these people will—”

“Be silent.”

Gwaun’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click.

Shade sidestepped away from him when Gwaun didn’t back away fast enough. The other former slaves were smarter, gathering around the woman who unchained them, well away from any potential confrontation. She was the smart one. Shade wondered if he could dump Gwaun on her and leave her in charge.

Slowing their horses to a trot, the riders fanned out, so they were four abreast on the road. The group stopped about twenty feet away from Shade and the ruins of the slave chain. Their leader cut that distance in half before stopping his horse.

“You are a Night Rider?” he asked.

“I’m not sure I like your tone.” Shade didn’t like this situation. Twenty-two innocents at his back and eighteen potential hostiles was a recipe for death and doom.

The leader scoffed. He was definitely Evendarian, with aquiline features and blond hair. His accent tried to be imperial, too, with the sharpness the capital city’s old merchant class affected when they pretended to be noble. It took a good ear to notice the differences.

“You are under arrest for rebellion, murder, and treason against the queen,” the leader said. “You will disarm and come with us.”

“Treason against the queen?” Shade laughed. “What queen would that be?”

The leader rolled his eyes. “You know we mean Queen Nydein. If you—”

“The Queen of Olor is no queen of mine.” The words felt like ash in his mouth.

Just thinking of Olor’s queen, of the woman who conquered his country, enslaved his people, and killed his king, left Shade cold.

“Whether or not you acknowledge her, she rules. If you surrender quietly, we will take these people onto Median and safety.”

“How kind of you, offering to help your own people with conditions attached.” Shade snorted. “If I didn’t know better, I might’ve taken you for Olorians.”

The leader reared back as if slapped. “We’re better than that. We’re venatores, in service of the state.”

“In service of Olor, you mean.” Shade’s eyes narrowed. “Venatores served Evendar. Not the brutes who call themselves our masters. You’re not worthy to yourself venatores.”

“You cannot fight all of us. Put down your sword.”

Shade drew his schiavona. He figured that was answer enough.

“Fine. You’re worth less dead, but—” The leader cut off, staring. “What are you doing?”

Feet shuffled against the stone. Shade sensed them moving before he snuck a glance over his shoulder to see the former slaves moving to support him. Most held weapons they’d pulled off the dead Olorians, swords and daggers in the main, but one held a bow in shaking hands.

“Our fight is not with you.” The leader’s eyes darted back and forth, taking in the glaring group. “We wish you no harm.”

“Yeah, but you want to kill the man who just saved us,” Gwaun said. “Or hand him to Olor. That doesn’t seem right. We know what they do to people who fight.”

Shade blinked. He wasn’t used to people he saved being willing to fight. As Gwaun said, Olor usually beat it right out of them all too quickly.

He opened his mouth to argue, to tell them he should protect them—and then shut it. Who was he to tell Evendarians not to fight for what they believed in?

A strange and warm feeling stole into his chest, just for a moment. Something like hope.

“You’ll have to go through us, too.” The red-haired woman pushed forward to stand next to Gwaun.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” the leader said. “We’re Evendarians.”

She stuck her chin out. “So’s he.”

“You tell them, Cara,” her brother muttered.

“He has broken Olorian laws and—”

“By saving people like us?” It was Gwaun again, bubbling forward. “Yeah, that seems terrible.” His laugh was a squeak, but damn, the boy was trying to be brave. “I may not know a lot— it’s hard to get a lot of news when you’re stuck as an Olorian army slave— but none of us are dumb.”

Redness crept up the venator leader’s cheeks like a creeping tide; Shade stepped forward before the man could snap out an order that might doom these plucky fools.

“I’m taking these people to safety.” Shade smiled coldly. “Feel free to try and take me afterward if you want.”

The lead venator looked from Shade to the others and then back to Shade again. “This isn’t over.”

“Oh, I’m sure it isn’t.”

Median was a two-day journey away at a plodding cart horse’s pace. Even with the former slaves riding on the carts in place of the empty barrels, they made terrible time. Shade kept his distance from the group, riding ahead as often as possible, mostly to escape Gwaun’s constant jabbering. Fortunately, Cara— who was much quieter— took charge of her fellows and seemed to sense that Shade preferred little to no conversation.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care for them. Shade made sure they were protected, fed, and bandaged wounds as required. He just didn’t like crowds of people, particularly ones determined to mob him with gratitude.

The venatores lurked miles behind. Sometimes, Shade spotted their advance scouts; others, they fell out of sight.

“I’ll leave you here,” he said to Cara when Median became visible on the horizon. “Go to the Blue Horse. The hospitia owner is Rhona Mus. She’ll help you find safe places.”

Cara smiled tightly, sitting close to her brother on the driver’s seat of the lead cart. “You need to get a jump on them, don’t you?”

“It will make things easier.”

Never mind that he’d intended to buy supplies and rest his horse in Median. That option was off the table, now. Shade had enough jerky and cheese to last a few days, though, as well as a loaf of bread that wasn’t quite hard. He’d survive.

“Thank you for everything,” Cara said. “We owe you our lives.”

“Rhona knows a healer who can get rid of your brands. Talk to her.”

“We will. Thank you again.”

He wished she’d stop saying that. Shade inclined his head. “Be safe.”

“And you.”

Wheeling his horse around, Shade rode away from the repurposed slave chain without looking back. The venatores had drifted out of sight again. Now was the best time to give them the slip. If Fortuna smiled upon him, Shade might slip right around the venatores, ride south and lose them.

If not...things would get messy.