Claire worked side by side with the boy she was paired with, removing saddles from horses and brushing them down before putting on warm blankets for the night. Earlier, she’d quickly told the others about Marcus as they ate dry biscuit and Jemroth took care of his own horse; they’d looked so glum she’d told them to find something to do beyond mope. She patted the glossy chestnut coat of the horse in front of her, trying not to think about Peony in Shale. She wondered if her beloved pet would even remember her by the time she returned to her farmhouse.

It was no use thinking like that. Claire had to pull herself together. She’d wait until they were nearer the Rift and then steal a horse and ride hard for Gwenivere. They’d have to come up with a way to close the blasted thing without Marcus.

The boy next to her cleared his throat shyly. She glanced up. “You dropped your brush,” he said, “and you didn’t notice.” He pulled a sympathetic face. “I’ve seen how hard you work. I can take care of this.” He waved at the rows of horses tied to wooden stakes hammered into the ground. “Get some rest.”

“I know I won’t get to sleep,” Claire explained shortly. “I’d rather help.” She bent to pick up the brush.

The boy pushed floppy blonde curls back from his forehead. “You’re scared?”

It took Claire a moment to understand what he meant. For many of the servants, the fear of bumping into magical brethren was ever present. She shook her head.

“I am,” he admitted. He held out a rough palm. “My name’s Gav. You?”

“Clera,” she said, using the fake name she’d used in Autun. She shot him a grudging smile. “I guess I’m a little scared.”

“I reckon you’re one of those people who works themselves to the bone to keep fear at bay.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“They’re people of flesh and blood like you and me,” he said, reaching out to put a comforting hand on her arm. “I like to remind myself of that when I feel my heart racing.”

Claire stopped brushing her horse. “What do you mean?”

“I’m one of Eidan’s personal servitor’s,” he said, straightening to his full height with chest out, “and this horse is his. Did you know?”

Claire made her eyes go wide. “No. What a beautiful creature.” It wasn’t a lie. Eidan’s horse was tall and muscly with a shining coat of coal black.

“Yeah,” Gav said. “He’s a real beauty. Everything of Eidan’s is. You should see his apartments in the Council Building.”

“If it’s anything like Wallis’s …” Claire lied.

“Oh, him,” Gav said. “I had to take a message there once and his are nothing compared to Eidan’s; he’s got damask and brocade bedding, curtains and walls, more gold and silver than you can poke a stick at, trays and trays of mead and honey and cheese and grapes. I’m hungry just thinking about it. Not that he likes it overmuch,” he sighed. “Eidan prefers the simple life, but the rules of office are such that he must look the part and that’s my point. You don’t have to worry about magic with Eidan to protect us. He doesn’t stand for that sort of thing at all. He’s big on protecting common people because at his core he’s one of us.”

Claire remembered the way Eidan had spoken at Rinn’s funeral and the rumours flying around Kelnariat’s streets about him raising his sword for the poor and the innocent, a real Robin Hood figure, and wasn’t all that surprised that Gav spouted the same rhetoric.

“Those magical types are pretty powerful though,” she said absently, unbuckling a strap.

“Yeah, but so’s Eidan. I’ve seen how he’s dealt with them before.”

Claire stiffened, the horse’s saddle slipping to one side. With a muttered curse, she caught it and adjusted her stance. She was overreacting. Gav was probably just referring to a public event. It wasn’t likely that a servant like him would have been at Dorran Manor. If he had been involved in her Grandfather’s murder, why she’d … she’d … there was nothing she could do. “With magical brethren?” she asked cautiously, willing herself to calm down.

“Yeah,” Gav said. He dropped his voice conspiratorially. “I’ve found remains of Dorran uniforms stashed at the back of his office cupboard before. I bet he killed a bunch of those marauders, don’t you?”

Claire bit her tongue to prevent herself giving something away. She was willing to bet hard coin on those uniforms being used by some of Eidan’s men to masquerade as Dorrans.

“And then, there was a man arrested by Eidan. One of those Maellwyns.”

Gav had to mean Bron. Claire nearly stopped breathing. “Was this recent?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

“Oh no,” Gav explained. “Two weeks back.”

Two weeks back? But that was before Claire and the others had even arrived in Kelnariat. Did this mean Bron had been the traitor all along?

“Eidan had a lot of ‘chats’ with him and,” he said proudly, “I was kneeling beside him with the torture implements. The Maellwyn soon talked. Apparently, there was some girl and her friends coming to the city from their Manor to wreak havoc. Eidan wanted this Bron to sell her out when she arrived. He tried to deny Eidan, but see, he had a bond mate in town and Eidan isn’t afraid to twist the knife when he has to.”

“You mean he threatened him with hurting his wife? But that’s … that’s barbaric,” Claire stammered.

“It’s what we must do to protect our own,” Gav said, obviously unaware of her inner turmoil. “But that doesn’t make it pretty.” He reached out to pat her shoulder. “I hated every second I watched it happen, truth be told,” and indeed his dark eyes were haunted. “His screams still haunt my dreams, yet we had no choice.”

Wrong! Claire wanted to scream. You and everyone else have been duped by Eidan and you’ll all pay for it. But there was no point. She’d merely give herself away.

“What happened to him?” she asked. “Is he dead?” She hoped she sounded eager enough that Gav would assume she wanted to know more out of fear of magic.

“I don’t think so, but Eidan isn’t likely to tell me much either. I suppose he’ll be hanged in a public execution once we get back from the Riftlands, unless he expires in his cell first.”

“Good,” Claire said. If Bron was still alive, she and the others could eventually get to Kelnariat and rescue him.

Inside, thoughts rolled like ocean waves. She wondered how the others would feel about Bron being the real traitor, albeit under duress. All alone in a big city with no magical talent to defend himself, what else could he have done? Die for the cause, a nasty voice whispered. Claire suppressed it, even as she suspected that might be how Gareth and Jemroth would feel. As for her? If Alaya had truly been threatened by Eidan, Claire couldn’t blame Bron for giving the game away. She had to talk to the others.

She got the saddle off the horse and smiled weakly at Gav. “Do you mind if I take that break after all? I’m suddenly exhausted.” At his sympathetic nod, she hurried to the centre of the hodgepodge army camp, only running once she was well out of Gav’s sight.

She found Gareth, Jemroth and Lotte with their backs to a cart, thick blankets wrapped around their shoulders. Lotte was pressed tight between Gareth and Jemroth, looking uncomfortable and trapped. Well, Claire thought, soon they’ll have to give her a break.

Gareth glanced up at Claire’s heavy footsteps. He flung her a spare blanket and pointed beside him.

Taking the blanket, Claire wrapped it around herself but instead of sitting beside him, she sat directly in front of the trio, ignoring the chilly wind at her back. “I learnt something about Eidan and Bron,” she whispered. “One of Eidan’s boys thought I was afraid of magic and I let him believe it. He tried to reassure me that magical brethren were no match for the Council, telling me Eidan had tortured a Maellwyn two weeks ago and threatened his wife. Eidan learnt I was alive at Maellwyn Manor and planning to come to the capital thanks to a tip-off from the Beast. Marcus mentioned that in Kelnariat – the Beast coming to Eidan in dreams. When Eidan knew I was alive, he picked up Bron.”

Even in the half-light, Claire could see Gareth’s eyes widen. Jemroth’s expression was unreadable.

Lotte lent forward. “Yer sayin’ Bron were the one as gave the safe house away?”

“Impossible,” Gareth snapped. “I never did believe it, even when you two tried your best to convince us. Maellwyn House is a close-knit family, same as Dorran House.”

“I’m sorry, Gareth,” Claire said gently. “Bron sold us out to Eidan. As far as the boy, Gav, knows, Bron’s in a cell in Kelnariat awaiting execution. Don’t be too hard on him when you meet him again. They tortured him and threatened Alaya.” She fixed Gareth and Jemroth with stern glares. “But that’s to worry about another day. The upshot of all this is Lotte is innocent. You owe her an apology.”

Jemroth frowned. “But she’s still an exile and a sworn enemy of our people.” He prodded Lotte’s side. “Everyone knows she’d stab as soon as look at us.”

“Why?” Claire demanded. “She wants to survive this as much as the rest of us, which means we have to live, at least until the Rift is closed.”

“There’s nothing stopping her turning on us afterwards,” Gareth said darkly.

Claire wanted to throw something. These two would keep finding excuse after excuse to distrust Lotte and she could see nothing she could say would make them change their minds. She shook her head apologetically at her friend, but the exile didn’t notice, being too busy staring into the distance, lips pressed in a mutinous line.