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that imprudent in ages.”
    “ Hm.”
    “ Two months at least,”
Amaranthe amended. In part because of the lecture Books had given
her that summer, she’d been trying to make more thoughtful, wiser
choices when it came to dealing with the opposition. She did still
have a tendency toward... impulsive actions. Like hopping off a
perfectly good train in the middle of the night to—
    “ They’re coming,” Books
said.
    Amaranthe dropped to her belly, keeping her
head just high enough to see over the rows of corn stubble. Books
stretched out next to her.
    The first lorry was rolling away from the
depot, and the remaining two men climbed into the cab of the
second. Amaranthe eyed the cargo bed on the back vehicle. That’d be
the most likely place to hop on and stow away.
    As the men were closing the doors, a shadow
moved at the back of the second lorry. If Amaranthe hadn’t been
staring right at the spot, she would have missed it, and, even so,
it was gone so quickly she almost thought it her imagination, but
she knew it wasn’t.
    Sicarius was aboard. Now it was time for her
and Books to join him.
    The first lorry approached their position.
Amaranthe lowered her head until dirt scraped at her chin. The
vehicle bumped and rattled past on the weed-choked road without
slowing. In fact, she was surprised—and concerned—with how fast the
lorry was moving. Catching up and jumping aboard would be a
challenge. She pressed her palms into the damp earth, ready to
spring up as soon as the second vehicle drew even with her and
Books.
    “ Now,” Amaranthe
whispered.
    She jumped to her feet, and, staying low,
ran toward the road. The lorry rumbled forward, pulling away from
them. As soon as Amaranthe’s boots hit the road, she straightened
and turned her run into a sprint. Books’s boots pounded the earth
right behind her. The lorry picked up speed. The weeds and ruts
made for difficult running, and Amaranthe misstepped, almost
twisting her ankle. Books passed her.
    Amaranthe urged her legs to greater speed.
Her rucksack bumped on her back, thumping against her shoulders,
but she gained ground.
    Books reached the lorry first. He reached
out and caught the back gate with one hand. His jump was
ungraceful, but he made it, disappearing beneath the tarp amidst a
tangle of long legs.
    The road curved, and Amaranthe closed the
distance. She reached out, fingertips brushing the cold metal gate.
When the road straightened, the lorry picked up speed again and
pulled away from her. The flap lifted, and Sicarius peered out.
    Cursed ancestors, she wasn’t going to fail
in front of him, not when Books had made it. Amaranthe pumped her
legs faster. She closed the distance and grasped at the gate again.
This time, she caught the top with both hands. Holding on to the
accelerating lorry turned her running strides into leaping bounds,
barely held in control. Turning one of those bounds into a jump in
order to thrust herself inside was a daunting task, especially with
the rucksack’s weight on her back.
    If Amaranthe looked up and met Sicarius’s
eyes, he would probably help her inside, but she mulishly set her
jaw.
    She sprang and pulled at the same time. Her
belly hammered the top of the gate, and her knee thumped unyielding
metal. Growling, Amaranthe wriggled and pulled herself inside,
possibly with less grace than Books had displayed.
    She collapsed, her back against the inside
of the gate. The darkness in the cargo bed prevented her from
seeing anything, though she could hear Books’s labored breathing.
Or maybe that was her own. She hoped it wasn’t loud enough for the
men in the cab to hear, or all this would be for naught. But the
boiler and furnace were mounted between them and the cargo bed, so
Amaranthe hoped that would offer noise insulation.
    “ Are you all right?” Books
whispered.
    “ Of course,” Amaranthe
replied. “I’m finally warm.”
    Books snorted.
    Someone settled beside
her, shoulder to shoulder. Sicarius?