Corelle, and the sisters that looked to her, were all going to be in big trouble for leaving the farm unguarded.

A woman in her early twenties lay faceup in the wide, shallow creek, red hair rippling in the water like flowing blood. A purple knot marked her forehead. The soldier wore a black leather vest over a green silk shirt and black leather pants. Rings graced every finger of her left hand, with the exception of the wedding finger, and a diamond-studded bracelet looped her left wrist. Her right hand remained soldier-clear of clutter.

Jerin glanced about the creek bottom. The marsh grass, cattails, and ditch weed on the far bank had been trampled as if a great number of horses had ridden down into the creek, then back out again. A thick screen of brush cloaked the woods beyond the pasture’s stone wall, and jackdaws and chickadees darted through the branches, apparently undisturbed by humans too near their nests.

Why had the riders tried to kill this woman? Were their reasons desperate enough for them to return?

“Did the riders see you?” he whispered to Heria over the gurgle of water. “Do they know you were alone?”

“I don’t know. I hid myself like Grandmas taught me.”

Their grandmothers had been spies for the Queens. They had taught all their grandchildren, regardless of sex. how to be clever in war. Jerin wished they were alive and with him now; maybe they could decipher the dangers.

Standing around guessing wasn’t solving anything. He pointed to the woman’s horse, a fine roan mare, eating grass along their side of the creek, saddle polished glossy and decorated with bits of silver. “Can you catch her horse, Heria?”

“Easy as mud: dirt and water.” Heria moved off toward the horse, talking softly to it.

Jerin scrambled down the steep bank into the water beside the soldier. He disarmed her first, undoing her sword belt buckle to tug free the belt and scabbard. He tossed it to Heria’s feet as she brought back the horse. Jerin found the woman’s fluttering pulse, then stooped lower to examine her forehead. Marked clear on her skin was evidence of what had struck her-a steel-shod truncheon. On her wrists, forearms, and shoulders were marks of other blows.