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them had been playing the role of a rustic, probably meeting her chosen peasant in a forest glade when she encountered the smugglers. Taken by surprise, bound and gagged with a thick stick jammed between her teeth before she could speak—smugglers knew how to keep their captives quiet on the move—she’d obviously worked it free and now she’d soon be dead. The smugglers knew the penalty for taking a High Born. They’d kill her quickly and hide the body.
    Still, she wouldn’t have died entirely in vain all the sentries came out of hiding and stood on the trail, discussing the matter in hushed tones, aware that every one of them was living on borrowed time. They couldn’t hide the death of a High Born. There were too few of them.
    Kamran waited until all the sentries returned to their posts and then slid backwards to his link man. “I’m going in to reconnoiter the camp. Pass the word back. As soon as I return, we’ll attack.”
    “That was a High Born,” the man whispered, eyes round in amazement.
    “I know,” Kamran said. “Repeat my instructions.”
    “You’re going in to reconnoiter the smuggler’s camp and will lead the attack when you return.”
    “Good. It’s our only chance to save her,” Kamran lied. “She’s still alive.”
    The man nodded emphatically. He couldn’t imagine anyone killing a High Born. Peasant mothers still boasted their eldest sons came from the first night under jus primae noctis, the High Born’s right to the brides’ first night. Kamran watched him slide away to pass on the message and nodded grimly. He must keep everyone believing they could save the High Born. The least whisper of the truth and they’d all dance on air for not attacking immediately.
    He waited until the man returned and nodded confirmation before slipping away to the right. He’d circle wide to the base of the slope and work his way toward where he thought the camp must be. The more he knew, the safer the attack would be.
    His sword was a nuisance, so he shifted the belt until it lay down the middle of his back. If he had to use it, he’d fail.

Chapter Three
    Rachael woke groggily when Anneke returned. The Alliance agent had stepped off the trail quite abruptly and waved Rachael into the concealment of a thick stand of trees. “Wait here. I heard something. Rest if you can,” she said, and disappeared, leaving Rachael struggling to stay awake. She failed, for the angle of the shadows had changed significantly.
    “We can go. They’ve passed.” Anneke seemed amused by something. “We have a little more time now. I’ve found us a good hidey hole and we’ll have an early night.”
    Rachael nodded gratefully, her feet leaden as she followed Anneke away from the trail toward a monolith of rock thrust upwards through the forest floor to create an area clear of trees. Dense shrubbery surrounded its base, taking advantage of the light piercing the canopy and Anneke headed toward the thickest clump.
    “Careful, it’s full of thorns. Lay down. I’ve cleared a tunnel by tying a branch out of the way with a vine.”
    Rachael slid in through the tunnel and found herself beneath a jutting ledge of rock in an area the size of a double bed and high enough she could kneel upright. Thickly carpeted with pine needles, hedged all around with thorns, it was secure and well hidden. Anneke followed, thrusting their provisions before her and turning to lower the thorny branch like an impenetrable portcullis. Their dark clothing blended with the shadows, making them invisible to the outside world.
    “This is great,” Rachael said. “I’m so damned tired.” She lay down, felt Anneke’s arms around her, and surrendered to sleep.
    It was dark when she woke the first time and found they’d rolled over and she was lying half across Anneke, arms and legs entwined like lovers, her head pillowed on the girl’s shoulder. She felt warm and comfortable and sleep beckoned so she closed her eyes once more.
    The dream