Thread of Ash and Fire

Ch. 1: Homecoming

Anna slid off the horse.

Frozen ground crunched beneath her feet. The summer was slipping away, trickling like water through cupped hands. She could see a bird settling on a barren branch, its taloned feet scraping against the bark. Stillwater Castle was silhouetted against the early dawn; pale pink and yellow strands wrapped around the turrets, fluttering like a girl's hair ribbons.

Footsteps crunched behind her.

"We should do a sweep," Ryne murmured. "Make sure that none of Lucia's men are hiding on the grounds."

He was dressed in a heavy black velvet cloak, his golden buttons dusty from days of travel. There was no colour in Ryne's cheeks, Anna observed, as if the very blood in his face was frightened to defy him. She shielded her eyes against the glare.

"What would you do with them?" Anna asked.

Ryne raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"The men."

His green eyes were steady. "I think you know the answer to that."

Anna stripped off her riding gloves. "Lucia could have been influencing them. She could have manipulated them into fighting for her."

"I don't know," Ryne said. "It's immensely difficult to control that many men at once. The odds of it..." He glanced behind them, to where five horses loitered by a pale ash tree. Ryne lowered his voice. "Some of those men worked for me, once. I know their names. Their families. What they eat for breakfast. But sometimes, people don't need to be coerced into making bad decisions. They choose to do it."

Anna met his gaze. "How can we tell?"

Ryne's face tightened. "We can't. But it's generally safest to assume the worst of people." He raised his voice. "Tris?"

A rider dismounted. Tristan winced slightly; his shoulder injury had improved over the last three weeks, but he still had to ride with a sling. Or, as Isaac had taken to referring to it, "Tristan's security blanket."

"How many explosives?" Ryne asked.

Tristan grinned. "Thought you'd never ask."

He produced several lumps from his pockets, which varied in size and colour. Anna had spent enough time with Tristan in Libertas to identify one as a smoke bomb, another as a bomb bomb, and the third as something that Tristan had simply called "the emergency failsafe." It was a copper ball, streaked through with acidic green lines. Anna was certain that it could blow up the castle.

"Penny," Ryne said. "You'll go first. If you sense anyone else in the castle—"

"Bash their brains in?" Penny asked, sliding down from her horse.

Ryne pulled a face. "Not in that dress. You'll never get the stain out."

Grayson made a noise. "Can we not discuss brains while I'm eating?"

He was sitting atop his horse, ripping chunks of bread. Out of all of them, Grayson had emerged the cleanest after weeks of travel; his blond hair shone in the early morning sun, and his boots were freshly polished. Isaac — who was in the process of rubbing his horse down with a currycomb — paused to give Grayson a look.

"What is that?" Isaac asked.

Grayson inspected the sandwich. "Cheese, pickle, and jelly sandwich."

Tristan pulled a face. "I'd rather eat the brains."

"Try it," Grayson said.

"No."

"Go on." Grayson held out the sandwich. "It's good."