They traveled as far from the river as possible in case Sheriff Flynn decided to risk entering Larke’s territory to capture them. Unlike the forested vales of Barden County, Larke’s northern land was open and sprawling, strewn with jagged rock formations and vast purple heaths. They could ride faster there than they had in the woods, but the night had been long and difficult, and the horses were spent. They took shelter in a cave well before the sun went down.
Briar was utterly exhausted. Painting so many intricate curses in a row had left her fingers numb and her back aching. The others noticed her stumbling footsteps, and Nat offered to take care of her horse so she could rest. She barely managed to scarf down a few bites of hard cheese and jerky without nodding off.
The cave smelled of bat feces and bone dust. Briar spread out her bedroll on the softest patch of rock she could find, wishing they could stay in an inn just once. Stealth was more important than ever since they’d entered Larke County, though they hadn’t exactly been models of discretion so far. Archer seemed to leave nothing but chaos in his wake. Briar had that in common with him.
The others were still tramping around the cave as Briar lay down to sleep. Perhaps due to her weariness, it was the first night she didn’t set up her bedroll as far from the others as she could get. She felt safe with them—at least for the moment. She hid some paint supplies in her blankets, though, a brush at her fingertips. She never wanted to be defenseless again.
Esteban squatted to build a fire on a flat stone a few paces from her. Pushing his sleeves above his tattooed elbows, he used flint and tinder rather than magic to light it. After announcing his presence at the river, he couldn’t reveal which direction they were heading with so much as a whispered spark spell.
Briar watched him strike at the flint, wondering why he’d helped her back at the river. He didn’t like her, and for a moment, she’d thought he would allow her to be captured. Had he changed his mind out of a sense of team solidarity? Perhaps he wanted to prevent her from telling Sheriff Flynn everything she knew about them.
She knew less than she’d thought. Esteban was no ordinary voice mage for starters. Battle spells were rare, especially among grumpy old hedge wizards in the outer counties. Esteban had worked for the king once. She was sure of it.
Esteban grumbled over the flint and tinder for a few minutes before the kindling ignited into a proper flame. He finished building the fire and, perhaps sensing Briar’s eyes on him, approached her bedroll and knelt beside her, smelling of smoke and old parchment.
“You are more than you claim,” he whispered. “You have not always been a seller of petty revenge. Who are you?”
“I’m Briar,” she said evenly. “I don’t see how my employment history is any of your business.”
Esteban snorted. “Only a handful of mages can paint ambulatory curses as precise as the ones you created at the river, much less do it over and over again. Archer might not understand how impressive that feat was, but I do.”
Briar’s fingers twitched toward the paints in her blankets. “Is that supposed to be a compliment or a threat?”
“Consider it a warning. I will discover your secret.”
“Does Archer know your secret?” Briar whispered back. “That you used to be a Crown Mage, possibly even the Crown Mage?”
Esteban’s mouth tightened. “He knows. If you figured that out from a few battle spells, that tells me even more about you.” He studied her in the feeble firelight. “You can’t have practiced for long at your age, but your teachers must have been exceptional.”
Briar tensed. Esteban would know her parents’ reputation even if he wasn’t connected enough to High Lure to recognize her. He’d apparently been wandering the outer counties for decades, but they were the deadliest curse painters in the kingdom. Whatever he suspected about her, it was unlikely he would connect her to Saoirse and Donovan Dryden themselves. Still, she had to deflect his suspicions.
“How do you know I’m not self-taught?”
Esteban sniffed. “Don’t insult me.”
Briar raised herself up on her elbows so he couldn’t loom over her. “You’ve been your own man long enough to know there is power outside the Hall of Cloaks.”
“Indeed.” A shadow flickered across Esteban’s gaunt face. “And I know a mage or two who has adopted that philosophy to the detriment of the kingdom. But a self-taught virtuoso wouldn’t know about Crown Mages and the frictions in the Hall of Cloaks.”
Briar ground her teeth, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut. The destructive urge roiled in her chest. Tired as she was, she was already planning out six different curses to use against Esteban. That would definitely give away her identity.
“Can I get some rest?” she asked, keeping her voice level with effort. “Or do you want to threaten to kill me if I betray the team? You’d need to get in line.”
“Quite the opposite.” Esteban hunched his thin shoulders, as if surprised and a bit irritated by what he was about to say. “If you have truly stepped away from the life I suspect you led before, this team might be the best place for you. Goodnight, Miss Briar.”
He scuttled off toward the mouth of the cave, where Lew and Jemma were silhouetted against the starlight, lingering over their cold suppers. Briar watched him fold himself to the ground beside them, feeling unsettled. Was that Esteban’s way of saying he approved of her after all? Or even that he understood where she had come from—and why she wanted to leave?
She needed to be careful. He could still betray her secrets to Archer and the others. They might not be so willing to welcome her to the team if they knew the full extent of what she’d done. As Archer had said,
