To a one, the tents are muddy and dirty, and the Adassians are fond of writing on them. Halla says they’re blessings or invocations, an old Adassian tradition to cover a dwelling with such to keep out bad spirits. That’s fine and all, but it makes it difficult to look for one symbol amongst all of it. It’s literally looking for a needle in a haystack.

But it has to be there. I don’t think the Spidae would have us come this far just for it all to collapse in the last minute. Then again, who knows what the Spidae are thinking? I stare through my spyglass, watching soldiers as they move between tents. There’s a huge, pitched battle at Castle Yshrem’s walls, but the Adassian camp is filled with people anyhow. There are soldiers guarding tents, wounded men, and women of all kinds. There’s also a fair amount of wine barrels, livestock, and the biggest, splashiest-looking tent in the center of all of it.

The Aspect is Hedonism, after all.

It would be obvious to have his anchor there, in the fanciest of tents, but there’s no marking on it at all. If his anchor’s in camp, he or she is likely being hidden away for such a reason.

The queen sucks in a breath.

“What?” I ask, immediately scanning the battle to find Aron. My heart pounds in terror, and I find him easily enough—the flash of the great battle-axe ever moving as he works his way through the tide of men. He’s covered in blood, his stark white tunic soaked, and he’s muddy up to his thighs, but he looks beautiful.

He smiles at his opponent, and I ache for him. Our time is almost up.

“I think I’ve found it,” the queen says, grabbing my arm. “Look. The tent with the fat man in front of it. Center of camp. It has two flags atop it—one for Aron and one for Anali.”

The goddess of healing. “So it’s a medical tent.”

“Or they want us to think that,” she agrees. “There is also a weapon rack out front.”

I raise my spyglass to my eye and scan the sea of tents, trying to find the exact one she’s speaking of. “You’re sure?”

“There are people going in and out, certainly, but none of them look wounded. I thought that very curious and started paying attention to the writing on the tent itself, and then I saw it.”

I find Anali’s flag, and then a weapon rack. Sure enough, there’s a guard out front of the innocuous-seeming tent with a fat belly and a scruffy chin. He scratches at his stomach absently and looks around, holding a spear. As I stare, the tent flap opens and a very healthy-looking man leaves, a new equally healthy one walking in. Curious. I scan the writing on the tent, though it’s all squiggly jibberish to me…and my entire body tenses when I see a spider casually drawn between two triangular symbols near the bottom of the tent.

“That’s it,” I murmur. I make note of the tent, memorizing where it’s at in the busy camp. Like Halla said, it’s near the center, but a good distance away from the obvious tent of Lord Aron.

Getting there? It’s doable.

I lower the spyglass and turn to the queen and Kerren. “That’s got to be it.” Markos enters the room with a tray of food just as I speak, and I wave him over. “We need to act.”

“Shall we share the news with Lord Aron, my lady Faith?” Kerren asks, a hint of a frown on his face.

“Or send an assassin?” Markos adds, coming to my side.

I shake my head, because I know what has to happen.

They won’t check your pockets, you know.

“It’s the encampment for Aron of the Cleaver,” I say to them, “But it’s also the encampment for Hedonism Aron. There’s a lot of women there. Whores. I can go. I’ll wear something slutty and I don’t know, flash my tits if anyone asks questions.”

Immediately, Markos and Kerren protest. “You cannot risk yourself,” Kerren says.

“Everyone’s risking themselves,” I say, gesturing at the battle. “Except I can stop all of this. If we can get to that tent, get to his anchor before he gets to me, we can win. No more pointless killing. No more scratching and scraping to gain a foot on the battlefield at the cost of a hundred lives a day. The right Aron will win and this will all be over.” The more I talk, the more right this feels. “The wizards have Godsfire, right? I can take a vial with me, hide it in a pocket, and pretend I’m there for some booty action. I get in, I use the Godsfire, boom. Problem solved.”

“How will you get there?” the queen asks.

“They haven’t finished bricking the wall over the secret passage that leads to the crypts,” I point out. “I can go that way and then enter their camp after it’s dark.”

Halla arches a brow. “And how do you plan on leaving the camp once you have done this?”

“Does it matter at that point?” I ask. “I’ll figure something out. If we cut off the head of the snake, the rest will follow.”

“Aron won’t allow this,” Markos says with a shake of his head. “He’s far too protective of you.”

“Which is why we have to do this now,” I say. “Before he returns tonight and finds out that Solat’s dead.” My voice wobbles a little, but I put my spyglass away and head for the door. I’ll be sad about Solat later, when all this is over. “We have to do this now because if the other Aron finds out that we know where his anchor is, he’ll move him. Her. Whoever. And we can’t keep hiding everything from Aron. He’s going to find out about the assassin they sent, and Solat’s death, and then all hell will break loose.”

“But to go in alone?” Halla frets.

“Not alone,” Markos says, and Kerren nods.

“No, guys,” I begin. I don’t want anyone else dying because of me.

Markos shakes his head. “You go with us or not at all.”

I look at their determined faces. “If we’re doing this…then let’s do it before I think about it too hard and freak out.” I nod at them. “I’ll get changed.”

“I’ll meet you in my study with the wizards,” Halla says. “And with the Godsfire.”

A short time later, Markos, Kerren and I emerge from the far side of the crypt and into the graveyard. Markos and Kerren both wear Adassian cloaks over their armor and I’m dressed like a camp ho. We took one of my low-cut, Novoran gowns and threw a corset over it, which practically shoves my tits in the world’s face. The skirt is cut all the way up to my thighs, and the queen assures me that I look sufficiently tartish.

I guess I’m going out of this world like I came into it—called a tart. Heh.

I know I’m not making it back out alive. I know I’m not returning to this castle. I know I’m never going to see my handsome, arrogant, wonderful Aron ever again. I want to grieve for it, but there’s no time. I’ve known this all along somewhere deep inside, and I think the Spidae were trying to prepare me for this.

I’m here to meet my destiny.

“Be safe,” Halla told me as she gave me the vial of Godsfire. I tucked it into a pocket in my cloak and pulled the fabric tight around me.

We make it out of the crypt without seeing another soul, replace the doors, and creep out of the graveyard. The moment we get to the entrance of the graveyard, though, we run into two other Adassian soldiers. We’ve been rushing so quickly I didn’t even think about this being guarded.

Then, Markos grabs my ass.

I squeak in surprise, jumping. My boobs nearly fall out of my corset.

“Next time, let’s just do it in a tent, eh?” Markos says, manhandling me in front of the guards. “You’re a hot piece but it’s a long fuckin’ walk.”

I feel totally obvious as Kerren grabs my waist and plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek, getting into the groove of our playacting. “I’ll do it in the graveyard if she likes,” he says. “Wherever she wants, as long as she does that thing with her tongue.”

The guards just roll their eyes. “Stay out of this area,” one tells us, pointing. “Back across the river to your commander.”