Time took on a dreamlike quality for Jess then, as she and her companions rode quietly through the night. The brilliant silvery moon riding high overhead, gracious mistress watching them all, Eloquin and Malek flanking her sides as they rode through the night, her familiar keeping quiet companionship upon her shoulder, his fur brushing her cheek a constant comfort, as if the helmet she wore affected his touch not at all.

“Jess?” Malek's voice. Filled with concern and fierce pride, so much said without being said at all.

They already knew the fastest route to the Whitehorse Inn, and if one were to avoid the high road and instead cut through the fields and dare the messenger trails that the king's fastest riders took in times of need, one could shave a full hour off the trip.

Or one's horse could stumble into a pothole in the dead of night, the poor rider tumbling off to his tragic death, neck distended horribly, fingers snapped and broken in a desperate attempt to break the fall, as had happened to poor Gaines, his lamed horse having been quietly led to the thick pocket of fruiting brambles nearby, contentedly munching and unlikely to move far from the spot. The tragic cause of Gaines' death was obvious, and those few Squires who had made sure it was so had done the deed on foot, treading carefully as they had been taught during their first year.

Of course Jess had been there. Every step of the way. For no one else had her gift with things that blossomed in forest and field. One thing was for sure. Absolutely no trace of their presence would ever be found, no matter how good a tracker incensed Velheim lords might lend to the cause.

Secrets they would all keep to the grave. But the first of many, Eloquin had grimly assured, even then.

Jess shook the memory away, turning to her closest friend, gazing at her so sympathetically, having accompanied her every step of the way. “An exhilarating ride, is it not?” Jess chuckled softly, eyes closing, savoring the feel of the evening breeze against her skin.

“I am not sure that nighttime riding with our eyes closed is prudent, mistress,” Twilight dryly noted. “No matter how deep our communion with the forests and fields on either side of the road might be.”

"Jess." One word, quietly said.

Jess shuddered, snapping her eyes open, forcing herself to focus upon the here and now, no matter how horrid it might be.

Her commander's piercing gaze froze her dreamy reverie like a splash of ice rimmed water.

“Focus.”

Jess jerked her head in a nod. “Yes, sir.”

“Neal.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“To my side.”

Within seconds Neal's mount had flowed up the ranks to Eloquin's side.

“You know our objective at Whitehorse Inn?”

"Yes, sir. One of us is to impersonate as an associate of Lady Putrice, paid coin to deliver a message for Cornelius's ears alone. According to Gaines, he will be of swarthy complexion, with a thick beard and locks of ink-colored hair. Perpetually angry, with coal-dark eyes. What Velheim possibly hopes to accomplish with such a man who looks nothing like northern Erovering stock, I have no idea, but we must assume he is a dangerous opponent, or certainly Putrice would be working with someone who would perfectly blend in.

"Once there, whatever coin he offers, whether copper, silver or gold, we demand more, backing down quickly enough if he shows any sort of fire, so we appear both weak-willed and hungry for coin, just the type to run such a mission, and thus lower his defenses. When he leaves, he will do so with a little gift upon him. We will follow, and as he will be marked, he shall be easy to track, no matter if we give him considerable lead."

Eloquin nodded. “Correct.” He turned to Jess. “Are you certain?”

Jess shuddered and nodded. The acorn seed Neal held even now, marked with the blood of a young noble so hoping for love, who had been in absolutely the wrong place at the wrong time. She could feel his eyes burning through her in haunting accusation, even now. The acorn had popped into her sight the moment they had laid him down, Jessica's own tears mixing with crimson, saturating the acorn, and in a terrible epiphany Jess had realized she would never forget the taste of that melding, and what a perfect little tool the acorn would be for the night ahead.

“May the gods forgive me, I will never lose track of that acorn.”

"There is nothing to forgive," Eloquin snapped. "Not you, for doing what must be done. And there can be no forgiveness for Velheim, thinking to steal our nation's daughters for their brothels, even as they would claim our noblest blood for their own."

“Yes, General,” Jess whispered, focusing intently upon the road ahead, sensing no growth, tree limb, or bramble that would dare to trip them up as they raced forth in the dead of night.

“Twilight?”

“Nothing ahead of note, Mistress. No pits or stones can hide themselves from my sight,” he assured. “Jess?”

“Yes?”

“Any time you like, but say the word and we will be off for high adventure, in any one of a dozen nations, and we never need look back at the past, not even once.”

Jess smiled sadly. "And what happens if my companions were to be ambushed by the score of Velheim soldiers Sir Kettil had so casually brought with him... perhaps but one band among many? No matter how good we are, now matter how well armored... arrows, quarrels, pike, and halberds could pierce a skull and end a life, just as assuredly as I have ended poor Gaines' life."

Twilight sighed. “There is that, of course.”

Malek chuckled softly. Eloquin didn't say a word. For all that neither claimed to hear her familiar, Jess sometimes wondered if perhaps they did.