Leisa didn’t want to be a mage anymore—she wanted to go home. She told herself that if she escaped, she would spend the rest of her life content as a handmaiden. Life was safe before. Now she was going to die because she wanted more she should have. Jasen too.

If he’s even still alive.

She’d stopped sobbing hours ago, even though short fits overtook her from time to time when she began thinking too much.

The guard snorted in his sleep as lady Casen struggled to free herself. It was no use. “You’ll never get free,” Leisa whispered. “They’re going to cart you off to the high lord and I’m going to swing.”

The mage turned, glared. The woman had no power over her future now, but that look still cowed Leisa. “I’m sorry, my lady. It’s the truth.”

Sorela looked away, grunted against her restraints in frustration. The mage looked like she wanted to scream in anger. She soon stopped, then laid her head back. Had she accepted defeat?

“My lady—“

A tall man wearing a hooded cloak, crossbow raised, pushed through the tent flap. He loosed the bolt directly into the sleeping guard.

Leisa jumped with an audible yelp. The guard did not stir.

The man in the cloak lifted his hood, revealing Falan Nogal.

“Oath breaker” materialized in Leisa’s mind. Her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t care. “Falan!”

The tall man put a finger over his lips, then bent to one knee to remove the gag from Sorela’s mouth. “Are you alright?” he asked, eyes moving between Sorela and herself.

“Yes—“Sorela said, but Leisa cut her off.

“Falan, they’re going to hang me with the others!”

“Be quiet, silly child,” the lady mage commanded as she rose. Falan cut Leisa’s restraints. “Mages do not give up so easily.”

Leisa rubbed her wrists. “I don’t...” she was going to say she didn’t want to become a mage.

Now wasn’t the time. She smiled. She didn’t care if she looked like a fool. “Is Jasen still alive?”

The Serafe nodded. “He is, along with a few of the others.”

“How do you intend to get us out of this camp, Serafe?” Sorela asked stiffly.

“I have a wagon ready.”

“Two prisoners cannot simply walk out of a tent and step into a wagon.”

Leisa’s stomach twisted into a knot. They weren’t free yet and she still might hang if the rescue failed. And how would they get the others to safety? “You could make it look like you’re moving us, perhaps?”

Sorela frowned. “That will not be good enough.”

Abruptly a horn blew. Falan’s eyes widened. Serin entered the tent. “The camp is under attack—might be a raid, I don’t know.”

The horn continued. “This is the opportunity we need,” Falan said. “We can slip out during the confusion! We just have to wait for the right moment.”

“When will be the right time?” Leisa asked. She didn’t want to be caught up in a raid. The ambush before was scary enough. But if she were killed at least it would be better to die trying to escape than to swing from a rope while she wet herself.

Falan moved to look out the tent flap. “Most of the soldiers will move from their posts to defend the camp. This looks like more than a raid. Be ready.”