We heard you have a little undead problem. Mind if we take care of that for you?

  – Humphrey Lance, the first Freyan agent of the Order of Skaal, crossing the border to Reikha during the Undead Plague

  Leaving the actors' carts behind, Trista sighed as she rolled her shoulders. Finn hadn't looked happy, when she told him that Vaera had taken an airship. "I should've told him sooner…" Trista muttered under her breath.

  Well, what could they do about it? There was no way for them to catch up with her still. If Meredith was as bad as Finn had claimed, then Aron and Vaera would just have to deal with him. She chewed her lip remembering her sparring matches against Aron. The guy was nimble and cunning, she gave him that much. If she hadn't been wearing her counter-magic protection at the time, his illusions would've made it impossible.

  She leaned against the wheel of a cart, crossing her arms and looking at the moon above. The halo barely gave off any light as per usual. Meredith—some old northern politician—versus Aron—the illusion-master who was rumoured to have received training from a Desert Jackal. Trista grinned at the moon. "Nah, he'd win."

  The flowery smell of Poppy reached Trista's nose before she even saw the kitsune. Trista's grin transformed into a frown, when she saw Poppy approach. Her steps were hesitant and clumsy—a far cry from her regular grace.

  When they were only steps apart, Trista raised an eyebrow and asked, "What's the matter? You're… different."

  Poppy looked up, her eyes wandering but never meeting Trista's. She was slumped forward, hanging her head and barely keeping it together. Trista swallowed hard. Any regular day Poppy was annoying and a pain to deal with. What would a depressed Poppy be like?

  "It's Finn…" Poppy said, trailing off hesitantly. She gestured ambiguously to the side, opened her mouth to speak, closed it again. "The bastard betrayed us!" There was fire in her eyes now.

  Recoiling from the sudden intensity, Trista unfolded her arms and reached out to Poppy, stopping short before touching her shoulder. "What happened? I don't-"

  "He stole my money. He's off, taking an airship to Coldtide! …probably trying to catch Vaera…" Shaking her head, Poppy looked away. She rubbed her eyes. "…I think he might work for Meredith."

  Trista pulled back in shock. "What?!"

  "I didn't know!" Turning to face Trista, Poppy pleaded with her. "But he was so obsessed with catching Vaera… I should have guessed…"

  Trista gulped and finally reached out to touch Poppy's shoulder. "It's not your fault. He tricked both of us." Pinching the bridge of her nose, she considered their options. "Anyway, we need to get to Coldtide as soon as possible. In the best case scenario, we'll be able to find Vaera before Finn and Meredith do."

  Poppy nodded, seeming relieved after hearing Trista's plan. "Right, we should take the horses and head straight north."

  Trista glanced at Poppy's clown outfit and shook her head. "Well, first of all, you should go change. Unless you're planning on riding in costume. I'll get the horses ready, you meet me when you're done."

  Trista patted her steed's flank for the third time. "Shh…what's got you spooked girl?" She was confident there weren't any wargs this far up the Dead Tops. The mountains weren't known to be hospitable for any sort of animal. Well, maybe that's what freaked out her horse.

  Kicking off the lid of the barrel with her knee, Trista reached down to grab an apple. Cutting it in half, she held the pieces out to her horse. Snacks were always the solution. People didn't like admitting it, but everyone loved food. "And so do you, don't you, big girl?" Trista crooned as the horse ate the apple. "You're quite easy to bribe, huh? Hope my enemies don't bring apples."

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  She checked the sky to see the moon wandering south. It wasn't ideal to ride in the darkness, but it would be nice for crossing the border. Not that the Freyan border was well-guarded, Trista just didn't want to run into any more of Kara's men who might be waiting for the blonde impish.

  "You know," She told the horse, "sometimes I wish I could just become invisible or change my face. It would make me less paranoid about someone finding us." The horse didn't look convinced.

  Just then, she heard two pairs of feet pacing down the gravel towards her. Her ears twitched at the unwelcome interruption. Well, she was probably late in getting the horses ready, but there was nothing to be done about that.

  When she turned to face the intruders, she saw Poppy and—trailing behind her—the wolf man from earlier. Trista pulled a face, before schooling her expression into a neutral one. She'd forgotten all about him. She had promised to bring him north, so was he coming with them? She sighed, staring down into the barrel.

  As the two stepped into view, Trista tossed them an apple each. "So," she said with optimism she didn't feel, "we're a group of three then?"

  Catching her apple easily, Poppy grinned mischievously. It seemed like she'd come back to her old self, finally. "I picked him up on the way, can I keep him?"

  Titus frowned at the apple in his hand like she'd handled him a riddle to solve. Eventually, he looked up and cleared his throat. "You were going north, right? I wanted to join you…"

  Trista and Titus were riding their horses side-by-side with Poppy bringing up the rear. Trista considered Titus from the corner of her eye. In daylight the oddness of his condition became apparent—too much fur to be a human, too little to be a yillip or a beastfolk, a mismatch of fur and skin on his face, odd elongated teeth and a right arm ending in something akin to a paw. It was obvious this young man would fit in nowhere.

  "You said I reminded you of someone else," Titus said, interrupting Trista's thoughts. "Who is it?"

  Trista closed her eyes and smiled, considering her reply. She settled on the simple truth. "My friend," she stated, her expression unusually warm as nostalgia overtook her. "She's not much older than you, but I've known her for many years now. Her father scouted me from among the plague knights."

  "Plague knights?"

  "Ah. Most people didn't call us that. We were the volunteers who fought against the undead and necromancers during the Undead Plague." Trista scanned the horizon. "We were volunteers at first—just peasants with weapons. Then the crown saw our value and supported us. We called ourselves knights because we received proper training and fought every day. But once the danger of the Undead Plague was diminished, our services were no longer needed. We were no longer needed..." She trailed off. Most of them had applied for jobs as city guards or the standing army. It was only her luck that had landed her as the captain of the Royal Guard.

  After a long moment, Trista continued her original story. "I've been her personal bodyguard for around 8 years now." She subconsciously started stroking her horse's mane.

  "Wow," Titus remarked. "So you're close friends with the Queen?"

  Trista blushed, realizing she had shared too much of Vaera's personal life to a citizen of Reikha. Before she could reply, however, Poppy chimed in. "Former Queen." The smug tone in Poppy's voice stung. Trista pressed her lips into a thin line, but what struck fear into her were the kitsune's next words. "Didn't you say your father was sent off to war? If you were from the Hirane province, then he was probably sent to fight the Queen, right?"

  Trista held her breath, studying Titus' expression. He'd told him that his father was forced to fight in the war and that he'd never come back from the fighting. Titus had been an orphan before he turned into whatever he was now, so his father must have been one of the first wave of fighters. She remembered the early assaults, when Kara's side hadn't been getting support from Barukk yet. Their fighters had been disorganized, poorly equipped, and lacking any serious training. So, the Royal army had made quick work of them. Would he blame her for his father's death? Was this what Poppy wanted? To drive a wedge between them?

  Titus turned his head slowly, looking at Trista, his eyes seeking hers, before turning to look at Poppy. "That's probably true. But what does it matter? It wasn't the Queen who told my father to fight her, it was Duchess Kara's men."

  Poppy looked away, sulking. She probably hadn't expected Titus to deflect her attempt at manipulation so easily. Though, Trista wondered, why the woman had decided to bring Titus along, if all she wanted was to upset him. Or perhaps that was the point.

  "Sadistic clown..." Trista muttered under her breath, hardly loud enough for anyone to hear. Despite her best efforts, Titus smirked and winked at her knowingly.