"What can we do? Once the wedding's over, Tris'll take the army against Curane in the South. Kiara will be alone at Shekerishet."
"We must be conspirators, you and I," she said with a smile that told Carroway she relished the action. "I'll come back to court for a while, and bring Alyssandra, my niece."
"Soterius told me that Alyssandra took up arms for the resistance."
"Jared attacked the bards, trying to keep news from being spread. I hid as many as I dared here. My brother-Alyssandra's father- tried to help. But the bards he hid were discovered, and Jared's troops burned their home and killed his family, all but Alyssandra, who was with me at the time. Alle knew we didn't dare keep the bards here any longer, and so she volunteered to get them across
Margolan to the Principality border. After she succeeded, she was afraid to come back. That's how she met your friend. I have no doubt that Alle can hold her own."
"Have you heard anything else?"
"I've heard rumors Lord Guarov is Curane's spy at court. No one can prove anything, or I'm sure the king would have removed him. But if that's true, Kiara will be in danger. Guarov has the principles of a gutter rat."
"It may require more than the guards to keep Kiara safe when Tris leaves for war," Carroway said.
"I agree. You may yet have a second chance to save your kingdom."
THE ISENCROFT NIGHT was cold and moonless. Snow covered the ground, deep as a man's knees. Ice crystals hung in the air, and every breath ached. Nearby, one guard lay in a heap. Blood seeped from the gash that slit his throat ear to ear, staining the snow beneath him. Another guard lay dead a few paces away, a crossbow quarrel fletchings-deep in his chest. Beyond the low stone fence lay a small cluster of thatched-roofed buildings inside a log stockade. Two more guards stood watch at the gate, warming themselves over a fire.
"Well?" Kiara Sharsequin's voice was muffled beneath her helm.
Cam of Cairnrach, Champion of King Donelan, nodded. "No worse than I'd expect from bandits. Not much of a scarp, and our mage can create enough confusion to get us up the slope. Land's too wet in these parts to have caves beneath it. From what the scouts could see from the treetop, there's not enough room to house more than a hundred men at arms." A wisp of Cam's curly dark hair protruded beneath his helm. He was a big man, and in his armor seemed like a moving mountain. His hand closed around the pommel of his war axe.
"Give the word," Kiara murmured.
Cam raised his arm, a signal to the line of mounted soldiers still hidden in the shadows of the forest. Devon, one- of the king's battle mages, leaned forward on his mount and raised both hands, pushing outwards as if against an invisible wall. A blast of fire streaked from Devon's palms, blasting aside the guards at the gate and setting the wooden stockade afire.