The grass was crushed beneath her boots. Her fingers, clenched around the hilt of the dagger, slipped with the moisture of her palm. Ambre stood behind Luc, his hands resting on his hips, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

  “I didn’t want it to come to this,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “Do you have a last wish?”

  “I would like to…”

  She drove the blade between his shoulder blades. He dropped to his knees, his head striking the ground.

  “Why?” he gasped, his voice strangled.

  Blood spread into a dark pool. She knelt and wiped the blade against Luc’s clothes. She slid her hands beneath his wrists and pulled. She dragged the corpse to the back of the house. The half-open door let in a breath of air heavy with the smells of dry wood and melted wax. When she reached the center of the room, she stopped. A film of sweat slid between her shoulders, trickling down her spine. Near the hearth stood a clay jar. She lifted its lid, and a sharp, acrid smell rose. Ambre tipped the jar. Oil spilled out, spreading around Luc’s body.

  When she was finished, she moved to the fireplace and pulled out a tinder stick. She blew on it, and the ember flared before she let it fall to the floor. Flames raced across the boards, crawling around the body. His skin, his flesh, everything was consumed in the blaze. Thick black smoke rose, surging in waves. The fire swallowed the furniture and licked at the walls. She spun on her heel and ran outside. Behind her, the house was nothing but a raging inferno, a gaping wound spewing flames toward the sky. She left the grass and set off along the stone path.

  They set out in the early afternoon, beneath a clear sky where the sun poured golden light over the hills. Rouis held the horse’s reins, his fingers tightly wrapped around the leather, his gaze fixed on the road stretching out ahead of them. The distant creak of a cart’s wheels, the rustle of branches in the wind, even the flutter of a bird’s wings as it took flight—everything carried sound.

  The road wound between rolling slopes lined with farms. Cows grazed, and the ringing of their bells mingled with birdsong. Fields spread out in a patchwork beneath the light, revealing furrows where shoots of peas and broad beans were beginning to rise. Farther on, the first stalks of rye and rapeseed tinted the earth a vivid green.

  Farmers guided their oxen along the furrows carved by plows. Others, farther off, spread manure or scattered seeds. On the road, merchants hunched over their carts drove their teams, crates rattling with every jolt. Beside them, pilgrims walked on, their faces hollowed by fatigue. The road wound on to the edge of a forest, where the scent of damp earth lingered in the air. With a light tug on the reins, Rouis brought his horse to a stop near a stream. He swung down from the saddle, his boots sinking into the humus, then plunged his hands into the water. A shock of cold raced up his arms.

  “That would do you some good,” he said.

  “I’ll pass,” Ambre replied.

  He placed a hand on the saddle and set his foot in the stirrup. The horse whinnied, and he patted its neck.

  “Easy, it’s all right,” he murmured, tugging gently on the reins.

  The forest faded behind them, giving way to a plain stretching beneath the waning light of dusk. Grasses swayed in the breeze, and in the distance rooftops appeared as thin plumes of smoke rose into the air. As they drew closer, the first buildings took shape, houses with stone walls and thatched roofs. Farther on, at the heart of the village, a square opened up, bordered by folded stalls and lanterns. A wooden sign creaked in the wind, while a glow danced behind the windows.

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  Rouis guided the mount to the entrance and jumped down, then turned to Ambre.

  “Take my hand.”

  “My legs are numb.”

  Rouis placed a hand on her waist.

  “Let go, I’ve got you.”

  She drew in a breath, then let herself fall forward, and he caught her.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she replied.

  He led the horse to the hitching post and tied the bridle. The animal snorted, then shook its neck.

  “You’ve earned a name. What do you say to Arrow?”

  Arrow lifted its head and stamped a hoof. Rouis patted its flank, then pushed open the door of the inn.

  Behind the counter, the innkeeper looked up at their arrival.

  “Come from far away?” he called out.

  “Far enough to deserve a good bed—two rooms for the night,” Rouis said. He placed three coins on the counter, which the innkeeper scooped up before handing him two iron keys.

  “Upstairs, at the end of the corridor. No trouble, no scenes. And if you break anything, you pay double.”

  “We’re not here for that,” Rouis assured him.

  Rouis took the keys and headed for the stairs, Ambre close behind. The wood creaked beneath their steps as they climbed, leaving the hubbub of the common room behind.

  Outside their rooms, Rouis handed one key to Ambre.

  “I’ll take this room. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

  “Thank you, Rouis.”

  He slipped the key into the lock and turned it, triggering a soft click. With a tired creak, the door opened, revealing a room furnished with only the essentials: a bed covered with a blanket and a bedside table holding a candlestick and a small basin of water. He brushed the window ledge, then swept his gaze over the street. A few lanterns lit the outside, casting shadows on the cobblestones.

  He took off his jacket, let it fall onto the chair, and dropped onto the edge of the mattress. He was unlacing his boots when three knocks sounded against the door. Before he could answer, it opened, revealing Ambre.

  “Can I stay with you? I don’t want to be alone.”

  “All right, but the bed is mine.”

  “That works for me.”

  She grabbed a blanket and spread it on the floor, then added a second one on top.

  “Enjoy it, it’s not every day you get to set the rules.”

  *****

  The flames stretched, their tongues racing along the walls before coiling around the beams. At the heart of the blaze, Luc was screaming, his mouth wide open, yet no sound escaped. Rouis tried to move, to reach him, but his body slipped beyond his control. An invisible vise closed around him, pinning him in place. Then an icy breath brushed his neck, and a voice rose.

  Kill her.

  He jolted awake, breath ragged. The door creaked open, and Ambre entered the room with a plate in her hands.

  “Rouis, you should eat something.”

  Kill her.

  He raised his arm, and the porcelain shattered on the floor.

  “Rouis, what’s happening to you?” she whispered.

  His fists clenched, his gaze locked onto the wall, and his knuckles slammed into the rough surface, each blow feeding his rage a little more.

  “Stop!” Ambre sobbed.

  He closed his eyes and drew in a breath.

  “I’m sorry, Ambre.”

  She wiped the tears glistening on her cheeks.

  “Your apologies? I don’t want them.”

  She left the room, slamming the door. He washed his hands in the basin, the water turning red. After a few minutes, she returned, a kit clutched in her hands. She knelt in front of him, laying out vials and bandages on the floor. The scent of herbs and plants filled the air as she opened the jar of balm. She dipped her fingers into the salve and applied it to the wounds.

  He didn’t move, his eyes fixed on an invisible point, while Ambre took a bandage and wrapped it around his wrists.

  “Since when do you know how to do this?”

  “Luc taught me,” she replied.

  She tightened the cloth, then packed her things away.

  “I’ll leave you the bill. I haven’t paid.”

  Then she left the room.