Aurora’s mouth again, but Aurora did not need the singer to help her stay silent. She could barely breathe for fear.
The second guard looked right at them. He couldn’t possibly see them, not outside the blinding glow of his torch, not when the air was thick with smoke, but for one breath, and then the next, he watched their scrap of the forest.
A crack cut through the air. The first guard had kicked the offending beam. He kicked it again, and it shuddered, more shards of wood snapping.
“What are you doing?”
“Proving a point,” the first guard said. He kicked the beam a third time, releasing another burst of soot. “They creak. They snap. There’s no one here but us.”
The beam creaked again, as though to agree.
“I still think we should check around.”
“Fine,” the first guard said. “You do that. I’ll be sitting over there, where it’s warmer, enjoying some of that rum and giving this assignment all the attention it deserves. If you were the girl, would you come back here? No.”
He strode away. The second guard gave the tree line another glance before following him.
Nettle loosened her grip on Aurora’s mouth. “Quickly,” she said. “Tread softly.”
Aurora hesitated. She had no idea what Nettle was doing here, but she had helped her evade the guards, and Aurora had to leave. Nettle could not lead her anywhere more dangerous than this.
They crept through the forest, Nettle guiding Aurora with a hand on her wrist. They did not speak. At first, Aurora flinched every time she snapped a branch or rustled the underbrush, but the forest around them was full of noises too, owls hooting and creatures scrambling through the bracken. They heard no human voices, saw no torches or signs of pursuit.
“We have to head out into the open,” Nettle said, after about an hour of silence. “We’ll be harder to track across the fields. Fewer twigs to break.”
Water gurgled ahead of them. The ground sloped down, and moonlight bounced off a shallow stream.
“To stop any dogs from following our trail,” Nettle said, as she stepped into the water. Aurora followed her. The water soaked through her shoes, chilling her sore feet and blisters.
The stream led them out of the forest, into open hills. Flocks of sheep slept in groups on the grass, but there were no buildings, no signs of human life.
“Is it safe to talk?” Aurora asked.
Nettle let go of Aurora’s wrist. “Yes,” she said. “Quietly. You must have many questions.”
Aurora had so many questions that for a moment she found herself unable to speak. Nettle had helped her, that was clear, but she had given no hint of why she was here, or where they were going, or what had happened in the village. When Aurora finally found her words, she said, “How did you find me?”
“You were not difficult to track. It is lucky that you evaded the guards as long as you did.”
“You’ve been following me? Since I left Petrichor?”
“I was about a day behind. When I saw the fire in the distance, I thought I must find you nearby. I am glad that I did.”
“Why?” Aurora said. “Why were you following me?”
“Prince Finnegan asked me to.”
“Finnegan?” Aurora stopped. Finnegan, the prince of Vanhelm, who had helped her to escape the palace, who had encouraged her to abandon Rodric and Alyssinia altogether. Why would he ask Nettle to follow her? The water lapped around her ankles. “Finnegan asked you to watch me?”
“Aurora, we must keep moving.”
“You work for Finnegan?”
“Yes,” Nettle said. “As I said. But we must move while we talk.”
Aurora did not move. Nettle worked for Finnegan. Of course she worked for Finnegan. She had been at the banquet in Aurora’s honor, had been invited to perform by Finnegan himself after the previous musicians fell suddenly ill. She had sneaked into the ball; she had spoken to Aurora just before Princess Isabelle was poisoned; she had vanished soon afterward. . . . Aurora took a step back, the stream splashing around her. “Finnegan,” she said. “He—was he involved in Isabelle’s death? Did you kill her?”
“No,” Nettle said sharply. “Of course I did not kill that little girl. And neither did Finnegan. He has flaws, but he would not include a child in his schemes. He certainly would not try to hurt you. I do not know who killed her.”
Nettle looked sincere, unsettled by the accusation, but that did not explain why Nettle had been at the ball, or why she was here now. “And I’m