The rock and creak of the horse-drawn canvas-covered cart made Claire sleepy, as did the chorus of shod-feet clip-copping on the dirt road. She couldn’t believe it when Maen had led the survivors to a small ramshackle barn in the woods well away from the estate walls – it was so perfectly hidden that you could only find it if you knew where you were going. Two carts had been waiting, attended by a pair of startled retainers and the Dream Mage, Tarn. Maen had sent the servitors to a second section of woods, an evacuation point for those who lived in the Manor in case of attack, to regroup anyone else who might have escaped. “They can explain all is not lost, that you and I live, and that our party will continue to the Riftlands.”

Now she chewed on the dry bread Maen had handed out once they’d gotten underway. He sat beside her, staring into space. Tarn was up front, driving their cart. Lotte, looking shellshocked, huddled beside Claire on the floor that had been padded with blankets and old quilts. Just outside the Manor, Claire had introduced the exile as a visitor to a farm whom Claire had rescued from some of Eidan’s men. She’d stood her ground with Maen and insisted that not only was she refusing to go anywhere without Lotte, they’d travel in the same cart too. After Maen’s initial feeble protests about not taking innocents on such a dangerous journey, no one had questioned the arrangement again.

Kiera, Meghan and Gwenivere were in the other cart behind them, which was driven by Rael. Her own cart was approximately five metres long and two across – not a lot of space for three people, but enough. There were packs up the far end, filled with food and coin for a longish journey. The Dorrans had been prepared.

Claire fixed Maen with a sharp gaze, her bread forgotten. “So, when were you planning to tell me we were going somewhere?”

Maen smiled. “We intended to travel to Kelnariat via the Maellwyns in a week’s time when you were better trained. Lord Dorran never told Eidan of his plan, hence the hidden carts in the forest.”

“We’re going to Maellwyn Manor? I thought there was no love lost between our Houses.” Her voice trembled. “That’s what Grandfather said.” Maen had told her not too long ago that Lord Dorran hadn’t made it out of the Manor. He’d seen him collapse with a knife to the gut; his last words had been to find Claire and run.

“Ah, he exaggerated because he didn’t want to tell you all of our secrets at once. It’s been to the advantage of both Houses to pretend we fight. In truth, your grandfather and Lord Maellwyn exchanged regular letters and met in secret in Autun every year or so.” He frowned at Claire’s untouched bread. “Eat up! You used a lot of energy back there!”

She did as she was told, despite the crumbs catching in her throat.

He waited until she’d swallowed the last morsel. “Now, I have a question for you. Where have you been the last two days? It was like you vanished. Don’t tell me there’s a hidey hole on Dorran grounds I don’t know about.”

Claire stiffened. She’d assumed Gwenivere had told Maen and the others what had happened with Rinn and the Beast, but apparently not. She decided to keep quiet until she could speak to Gwenivere, who must have reasons of her own for withholding information.

Still, someone had set fire to villages and Lotte’s camp. She had to make sure it wasn’t the Dorrans. She searched quickly for a way to frame her reply, looking at Lotte, who pressed against a bulge under her borrowed cloak. Claire knew she fingered her sheepskin pouch, the only thing of value she had left.

“I made Great-Uncle Aed tell me what your meeting was about. I felt left out.” She silently apologised for the lie, but Aed was beyond caring. “He told me about the places burnt near Kelnariat, the scrap of Dorran uniform. I ran away to … to the outhouses to think. I slept overnight in a stable. Horses comfort me.” She caught Maen’s gaze defiantly. That last part of her tale wasn’t even a lie really. In Shale, she felt like she did understand animals better than people. “I wasn’t ever comfortable with the way you talked about the exiles and I thought if Dorran House spoke like that about them, maybe you didn’t care about farmers and poor tradesmen either and so you might have been responsible.”

Maen’s eyes were baggy and shadowed from lack of sleep and Claire could have sworn there was grey in his hair she’d never noticed before. “You did us a great disservice,” he said. “Dorran House does not murder. Someone has set us up to take the blame.”

Claire narrowed her eyes. “Swear it.”

Maen sighed. “I swear.”

She sank back against a folded blanket. Maen didn’t look like he was lying. “I wonder who set you up?”

“I don’t know.”

They fell into silence. “Grandfather said Eidan was a good leader as well as a friend,” Claire ventured finally. “Yet he was wild back there. I saw him murder Great-Uncle Aed.”

“And his men were camped a mere half day away ready to storm the estate,” Maen said grimly. “He’d decided we were guilty before he arrived. Praise the Saura one of the guards had the presence of mind to shut up the secret passageway to the caverns before Eidan’s men could find it. Our elementals, at least, will be safe until we can return to rebuild the Manor.” His voice rose. “But we shouldn’t have to skulk about Kelnarium. We should be united in dealing with the Rift, not turning on each other. Someone in Kelnariat is behind this – probably whoever is paying those bandits to masquerade as us – but why?”

Before Claire could reply, the cart ground to a sudden halt, jerking her forward. Tarn poked his head through the yellow, red and green patched fabric separating the wooden seat where the driver sat from the interior. “There’s a clearing ahead where we can make camp. The river crossing near Autun isn’t far now, I’d say half a day’s ride at most.”

Maen glanced at Claire. “I suggest we get changed into less conspicuous attire, so we’re not recognised. If people think we’re responsible for razing settlements, who knows what they’ll do to us on the road, where we can be attacked easily and without consequence.” He paused significantly.

“Don’t we want to be recognised? I know people are upset about the so-called Dorran raiders,” Claire said, “but why can’t we tell them who I am? Surely once they know we’re saving Kelnarium, they’ll look on us more kindly.”

“That part of the prophecy has never been publicised.”

Claire remembered the Crian’s surprise at the mention of the Rift exploding. “But why not?”

“Only the Dream Mages, key people from Dorran and Maellwyn House and Eidan know the extent of the destruction heading our way unless we can stop it fast. We all agreed we didn’t want to spread mass panic and cause issues for Eidan’s Council.” He ran a hand over his face. “Maybe that was a mistake, but it’s too late now. People know someone part Dorran and part from another world will arrive in our time of need. People know the Riftlands spread wider and wider every year, but they do not know the rest. So,” he sighed, “what would you have us do? Change into something less obvious or publicise that we are Dorrans?”

As Claire pressed her lips together realisation struck. Maen wanted her to make the decision. With Grandfather dead she was the new head of Dorran House. Yet, she was a teenager. What did she know about leading people, especially in a world she’d never known existed until a week or so ago? Best to do what the guy who understood Kelnarium suggested.

She cleared her throat. “We get changed and we rest,” she agreed, “though let’s keep it a brief stop. I can see why we don’t want anyone to stumble onto us.”

In no time at all, the two carts were stationed on either side of the small clearing; Kiera had a fire lit and meat turning on a spit, Claire helped with the horses and then she and Lotte lay out some of the older woollen blankets on the damp grass. Leather bags with clothing half-hanging out of the loosely closed flaps sat in a heap beside them thanks to Maen and Rael’s forethought.

Claire drew nearer to the fire and sat on a blanket, the birch and spruce trees towering over them and blocking out the stars. Munching on bread and hard cheese, Claire took a plate of meat from Kiera.

There was little conversation as the party ate – without the distraction of the mundane tasks of setting up camp, it was obvious everyone was exhausted and ravaged by grief. Tarn and Gwenivere were the only Dream Mages who’d made it out of the Manor, and who knew how many Dorrans had escaped? Though Rael had sent some of his guards to take children and the vulnerable away from the estate when the attack had commenced, no one knew if they were safe. Meghan and Kiera sat with knees touching, heads bowed. Rael’s face kept screwing up like he was about to cry and Maen’s had gained new grooves. Claire’s own heart felt heavy as she thought of Aed and the way he’d sounded when the sword had slid from his chest. Lotte sat so close to Claire that their shoulders touched, and Claire could feel Lotte’s occasional sobs.

Maen put aside his dish and rose to his feet. He indicated Claire should join him at the centre of the circle beside the fire. Wiping tears away, she put her own finished meal aside and did as requested.

He put a hand on her shoulder when she reached his side. “When Eidan turned on us, Lord Dorran gave me his ring for safe keeping, as he normally did when Aed was called upon to act as his double. As you all know, both brothers are dead. I saw one of Eidan’s captain’s strike Lord Dorran down and he screamed at me to fight my way out of the room. I wanted to stay with him, I would have died with him, but he knew Dorran House is more than its leader alone.” His grip on Claire’s shoulder tightened. “Lady Claire is head of the Dorrans now. Her grandfather knew that men and women like me would help her. I know we will all serve her well.” He put his free hand out, revealing the gold and opal-veined sparkle of her grandfather’s ring, a thick cord looped through its band.

She was meant to take it, Claire knew, but she felt so inadequate. It was hard enough being responsible for her own actions, let alone a party of people. Once, she’d gone to Girl Guides and they’d been made to do a stupid exercise where everyone took turns to lead a survival scenario. Claire had been terrible; no one had listened to her and she’d gotten so anxious she kept changing her mind about what to direct people to do. If Maen and the others had longer to get to know her, they’d probably choose someone else.

But Maen was nodding encouragingly. “We know this is overwhelming, but you aren’t alone. We’ll guide you when you need it. Take the ring. It’s rightfully yours.”

Claire looked around the solemn circle, struck by the trust and encouragement in most of their expressions. Maybe it wouldn’t be so scary, after all. At least she wasn’t dealing with high school kids. She plucked the ring from Maen’s palm and put the cord over her head, tucking it and the ring under her shirt alongside the pendant necklace Lord Dorran had gifted her. As she did so, something flickered in the corner of her vision, something that looked suspiciously like a giant white-gold salamander encased in flame, but then she blinked and the image was gone. She turned her attention back to her fellow survivors, remembering where she was.

No one moved, like they expected something more from her.

“I’ll do my best for this House,” she said. “No one else should have to die. We continue to Maellwyn Manor. Finish eating and get changed.” She pointed at the bags of clothing.

Rael cleared his throat.

“Yes?” She inclined her head to the captain – her captain now.

“We can’t continue on without changing the patchwork canvas we have over the carts. People will recognise us. There are plainer animal skin covers in that bag.” He pointed to one that bulged at every seam.

Claire nodded. “Switch the coverings. The rest of you get changed, pack up and get ready to leave.” She was pleased her voice didn’t tremble too much. Fake it until you make it, Marcus always said.

As they chose clothes to get changed into and got ready for the next part of the journey, she had a few words with each of them, trying to keep their spirits up. Meghan especially seemed grateful. She and Kiera couldn’t stop thinking about their young relatives. Not knowing if they lived or died had taken its toll on the pair. Meghan’s wrinkles looked deeper and she stood almost doubled over, while Kiera’s cheeks were pinched.

There was one person left Claire hadn’t spoken to in the clearing. She went in search of Gwenivere. The Dream Mage stood in the darkness apart from the others, leaning into a tree bough, some of its branches brushing against her arm. Even in the bad light, Claire could see her cheeks were too pale. “Do you have a minute?” Claire whispered.

Gwenivere froze, but she didn’t move away.

“You know I spied on your meeting with Grandfather and Eidan. You know what Rinn saw,” Claire said. She took Gwenivere’s silence as consent to go on. “Why haven’t you denounced me to Maen and the others? You could have just now when he gave me the ring. You would have been well within your rights.”

Gwenivere’s gaze remained fixed on Rael and the carts.

“Talk to me,” Claire hissed. “Are you going to tell him that the Beast said I’d destroy instead of save?”

Gwenivere’s eyes crinkled at the edges. “The man I believed to be good and righteous above all others turned on us. Four out of the six I brought with me to Dorran Manor are dead. The rest are trapped in Kelnariat, and yet you question me? How dare you.”

“All right, all right,” Claire said hastily. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive, but I don’t know what to do. I’ve been having weird dreams with the Beast in them. That’s one of the reasons I ran away from the Manor. I was scared it was right and you’d all punish me. I know you have no real reason to believe me, but I don’t want to betray anyone. I want to save this world, get Marcus and go home. That’s all.”

Gwenivere took a step towards the carts, brown and grey horsehair skins finally over both, then turned to look straight at Claire. “The creature you describe is no friend of ours given how it injures and kills magic users across Kelnarium. I trust it even less than I trust you. That’s why I’ve said nothing to Maen. I suggest you don’t either for the moment. We can’t afford to have dissent amongst our party.”

Claire nodded her agreement. She didn’t like keeping the truth from people, but Gwenivere’s reasoning was sound. She headed back into the clearing, skirting a large log, when a hand reached out and grabbed her ankle. It was icy cold – Claire felt it even through her tights – and made her stumble.

“Get down for a sec.” It was Lotte. Claire repressed a twinge of guilt. The exile had been the furthest thing from her mind with everything else going on.

“It’ll have to be quick,” Claire said, but she dropped to sit on the log, with Lotte still in the shadows behind her. “Well?” she said, not looking at the exile girl.

“Ya said yer’d keep me safe, that yer’d give me coin so I can start again.”

“Lotte,” Claire whispered. “We’re safe for now.”

“Ya are,” she said. “Yer important. At the first sign of danger yer’ll be protected, but me? I’m nuthin’ and no one.” She paused. “I can’t stop thinkin’ about how they died—all of ’em. It’s different for ya. Ya didn’t know yer grandfather all your life like I did my parents, my brother and everyone else in that camp.”

“I’m so sorry,” Claire said miserably. “Tell me about them.” She got up quietly and climbed over the log to sit beside Lotte.

Lotte had pushed her cloak back to dip long fingers into her sheepskin pouch. “My mam were an orphan. She stumbled into the camp and my da took her in. He never asked any questions about why she didn’t have somewhere else to go. He said she bewitched him with her lovely voice. She’d sing to Jan and I and sometimes we’d have dancing and she’d tap out the beat with Da and some of the others.” Lotte opened her clenched fist. In it sat a string of carved wooden beads, grimy pink quartz and feathers, bits of rusting silver twisted around the rope cord. Claire recognised the style. No Dorran would ever mistake it for anything but an exile’s work. “This was hers. She told me to keep it on me always. It’s important, she said, though I dunno why. Da said she were sentimental that way.”

Claire closed Lotte’s fingers over the necklace. “Keep it to yourself. I don’t know if I can protect you if someone finds it.”

“I know.”

As Lotte reverently placed the necklace back in her pouch, Claire thought back on how they’d met. So much else had happened, they’d had no opportunity to discuss why the Crian had sent Lotte to the Manor with Claire. For that matter, Claire hadn’t had a chance to ask about who the strange spirit was.

“Oh, her?” Lotte said in answer to the question. “She’s always been around. Said she were friends with my mam, but she helped me more than her.”

“Helped how?”

“She and her Melinor would leave gifts of berries and dead animals for us and she’d warn me if I were in danger from farmers and the like when I went a-stealin’.”

“Why’d she send you off with me then? None of this is particularly safe.”

“I dunno,” Lotte admitted. “I think it were my fault. I got startled when she said ‘danger’ and I grabbed at yer elbow. I guess I got transported with ya ’coz I was touching ya.”

Claire shrugged. “It makes sense.”

But Lotte’s eyes widened with fright. “Ya can’t tell the others about her, though. Promise.”

“Sure,” Claire said, “but why?”

“I’ve heard Dorran guards mention her before and they hated her. Dunno why.” She poked at the dirt with a stick. “Probly ’coz they know she’s friends with exiles. If you tell ’em, they’ll know who I really am. Promise ya won’t.”

“As far as Maen and the others know, I was never anywhere near your camp. I can’t tell them about the Crian or about exiles without revealing I lied to them. So don’t worry, I won’t tell them a thing. Now, get changed here. Then leave your sheepskin behind.”

“I’d already thought of that. I pilfered an outfit when everyone were distracted.” She tapped her fingers at her side and Claire noticed the dirty skin was underneath her.

“What about the pouch? It’ll make you stand out.”

Lotte snatched her hand away from Claire’s. “It’s mine! Ya ain’t taking it from me.”

“I wasn’t about to suggest it,” Claire said wearily. She thought for a moment. “I told the others you were only visiting this area. Let’s tell them you come from one of the villages clustered around Kelnariat and are used to their warmer climate. That way, when we get to Autun it won’t be weird for you to break away from the rest of us because you’re simply going home. I saw a woollen cap in one of the bags. Put your pouch on top of your head and the cap over it.”

“What about my money?” Lotte asked. “Ya people don’t have much left. Do you think they’ll give me coin?”

Lotte had a point. Maen wouldn’t give them money without a good reason. They needed it too much themselves. Claire ran a shaking hand through her fringe. “I’ll have to steal some from the back of the cart when we get to the city.” She didn’t know how she’d manage it or what she’d say if she got caught, but she’d made a promise and her family didn’t break their promises.