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half to start and half when he delivered Afina, but the bastard hadn’t bitten. His distrust had been palpable. He’d neither refused nor accepted, merely evaded, too intelligent to commit to the mission either way. The hesitation made Vladimir think Ramir was no longer an asset but a liability, one that needed to be dropped off the nearest cliff.
    Curious about Henrik’s association with the famed assassin, he tested the waters. “Can you find him?”
    “Who?” Grabbing a sleeveless tunic from the chair in front of the fire, Henrik pulled the black leather over his head and attacked the side laces. “Ram?”
    “Aye.” Vladimir took another sip and lounged against the sideboard, trying to appear as though the assassin’s reply didn’t matter. The truth? He hung on tether hooks, itched to know whether Henrik could track the bastard.
    Henrik shrugged, as noncommittal as his blasted comrade.
    Tension pulled at the muscles bracketing his spine. Should he? Shouldn’t he? ’Twas a toss-up considering Henrik’s violent streak, but...aye. It was worth the risk.
    “There’s additional coin in it...if you can track him,” he said, tempting Henrik with the one thing he knew no one could resist. Ready coin.
    A black brow raised, the assassin slid a knife into a sheath high on his chest. “How much?”
    “Thirty pieces of silver.” Vladimir paused, sitting on the fence, not sure which way to hop. After a tense moment, he made the leap. “To take him out.”
    “Eliminate the competition?” Henrik’s mouth curled at the corners. The smile never quite reaching his eyes, he strapped twin swords on his back and headed for the door. “I thought you’d never ask.”

    She needed to make her move...soon. The Carpathians loomed, a silent predator waiting for them to come within easy reach. She’d never been so close before, had never wanted to be anywhere near them. People said the inhospitable mountains ate people whole, that strange things—unholy things—happened on the great peaks, and below, in the deep valleys. A godless place filled with naught but inky darkness and bad intentions.
    And Xavian was leading them straight into the belly of the beast.
    Afina shivered, catching a glimpse of the jagged teeth through a break in the trees. The sharp angles and soaring cliffs snarled at the sky, piercing greyish-white clouds to taunt the heavens with a curled lip. She clung to the saddle horn and cuddled Sabine closer, her unease so strong the heat leached from her body. The chill sank bone-deep, turning muscle to ice, freezing her ability to form an adequate plan.
    At least her brain was working well enough now to know she required one. Fast. Faster than fast...before the little-used trail they followed carried them into the mountains. Once they left the forest, her chances of escape went from slight to nil. She needed the thick shadow and dense foliage to shield her whenshe bolted. Finding cover on barren rock faces, sheer cliffs, and the narrow paths of the Carpathians would prove too difficult, especially with a chatty two-year-old in tow.
    Time was running out.
    Judging by their pace, she had two, mayhap three days at most. Nervous tension swirled in the pit of her stomach, wreaking havoc with her resolve. She drew a long breath and stroked Sabine’s hair, trying to steady herself. One slip, a moment of inattentiveness was all she needed. By the time her captors registered her absence, she’d be gone, so deep in the woods they’d find it difficult to track her.
    The mossy turf would conceal her footprints, wouldn’t it? She could hide in the shadows, use the trees for cover, the streams to disguise their scent and trail, couldn’t she? Afina swallowed, praying she was right. So many factors to consider, too many chances to make a mistake. And yet she only had one to win her way free. Xavian wasn’t stupid. He no doubt expected her to run. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out. She’d signaled her intent