Weeks I wasn’t sure I was capable of maintaining the facade, not when the shadows in my chest barely stirred as I called on them to help me erect a tent. The supply wagons were a hive of activity as more and more temporary abodes were passed around. A chunk of the village recruits would be forced to sleep under the stars. A twinge of guilt swept through me, but Vagach wouldn’t care, so I said nothing. They unfurled blankets against the grassy earth and settled their packs which were placed at the head, providing at least some comfort.

The moment our dinner of gamey stew and bread was finished, I excused myself and nearly ran to my tent. Moments after securing the canvas flap, I collapsed, my magic falling away and leaving me swimming in Vagach’s clothes. I had no energy left to move from my position on the ground, and I barely managed to crawl to the cot and kick off my boots and pants. A groan—too loud and too feminine—filled the space as I reclined against the hard pillow. My entire being ached, and the shadows in my chest were nearly translucent from overuse.

I needed sleep to recover, because the following day would require as much magic to maintain my ruse. And the next day, and the next, and the day after that too.

Weaver, how am I supposed to do this?

Doubt crept in, along with hushed voices and a gentle breeze. The peak of the canvas overhead grew fuzzy while my eyelids grew heavy, and it wasn’t long until I surrendered to sleep.

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5

The first stirrings of the birds overhead tore me awake. Heart pounding, I bolted upright, nearly stumbling over my discarded clothes and tangling myself with the low-hanging ceiling of the tent. Once awareness slammed into me, I froze, breath catching in my chest. I listened intently for any sign that I had disturbed those sleeping nearby with my antics. When the only sound that greeted me was another birdsong, I relaxed, shoulders slumping inward as I collapsed back on the cot. It was still dark outside, which meant I might be able to squeeze out a few more hours of sleep.

Tuning into my magic well, I checked to see how much had been restored overnight. The shadows were inky black once again, though their activity was less than it had been before I killed my husband. Using magic was the same as using any muscle—it required work to build it and time to rest it. The process of doing either eased with time, allowing for a deepening well and faster recovery.

I’d be using every drop, every day for the foreseeable future.

Honestly, I’d gotten lax with everything since I married Vagach and he showed his true colors: the control over my magic, the will to provide for myself, the want to do anything other than allow the hours to fly by as I waited for something to change. Despite the ache in my bones and lingering weariness from a day’s worth of riding, excitement danced through my veins, and a few bits and pieces of the vibrant female I’d been when I still lived with my family were returning.

No longer was I waiting for what would happen next; now, I was carving a way forward for myself. I couldn’t even bring myself to feel guilty about killing Vagach, not when hope bloomed in my heart.

I pulled the thin blanket back over my body and closed my eyes, letting my mind wander over all the possibilities that lay ahead. Would I have an opportunity to slip away? Would I be assigned my own unit to lead? I hoped that wasn’t the case. Would killing a stranger be easier or harder than killing my abusive husband?

“Vagach,” a voice hissed, and I tore my eyes open, immediately blinded by pinpricks of light slipping through the canvas ceiling.

Shit.

“Are you awake?” The voice filtered through again, and panic rendered me momentarily mute.

I cleared my throat, attempting to force words to come out. “Yes,” I said, tucking my chin and dropping my voice in a desperate attempt to sound more masculine. I winced when it wasn’t nearly deep enough.

The person on the outside didn’t seem to notice. “Breakfast is going to be quick today. Better get up if you want some. We march in thirty.” His footsteps retreated before I had to say anything else.

Fuck, that was close.

What if he had entered my tent and found me, well, me? There were no other females about, and my burgundy eyes would have gotten me noticed immediately. Not to mention, had it been someone from Stryi, they would have recognized me as Vagach’s wife and decidedly not their Kormánzó.

A sudden fear sent a chill straight to my core. What if instead of staying out of Vagach’s way, the villagers attempted to fall over themselves to appease him? I’d have to glare daggers in their direction and ensure that didn’t happen.

Not only that, but when we stopped for the night, I needed to figure out a solution to prevent anyone from entering the tent while I was unconscious.

All while pretending to be the male I abhorred. Everything was going to be fine.

Tapping into my magic, I began weaving Vagach’s form around me, all the while ticking the time off on my fingers. Twenty seconds passed before I was certain I’d gotten everything right. It wasn’t fast enough.

Another item to add to the list of shit that could get me caught—I was slow to make the form. Hopefully the weaving of it would go faster as I became more comfortable with it.

See? You only need time and practice for everything, Assyria.

Reassuring myself didn’t remove the dread that had settled in my gut.

I pulled on the previous day’s clothes, grimacing at the stench but gritting my teeth and accepting that no one else was going to smell any better. Washing myself and my clothes was going to be a challenge.

Oh look, I took one challenge off, only to add another.

“I’ll figure it all out,” I muttered under my breath as I rolled up my sleeping gear and secured it with a leather strap. Once I exited the tent, I broke it down too, tucking all of my belongings under my arm and taking them to my horse and the supply wagons. The camp bustled with activity, soldiers both old and new shouting at one another, though the more seasoned ones were the most vocal contributors to the noise.

“Took you long enough,” a voice said from behind me, and I nearly jumped out of my fake skin. With as much self-control as I could muster, I turned, finding Izgath standing there, arms crossed over his chest. Shadows swirled around his muscled biceps and forearms, and I had to firmly remind myself that I wasn’t female and tear my eyes away from them and back toward his face. Garnet eyes regarded me with something I couldn’t quite place.

“Uh, yes, thank you for waking me,” I managed to get out.

He tossed his head, clearing a lock of hair that had fallen out of the leather strap that piled the rest on the top. “Come, Jaku wants to speak with you before we set out,” he replied smoothly, spinning on his heel and somehow managing to avoid colliding with a horde of villagers marching to the edge of the camp.

What does the Százados want with me now?

My stomach rumbled as we cut through the throng, and before I could even blink, a plate of food was in my hands. “Eat up, you’ll need your strength,” Izgath said.

Jaku’s tent was still erect when we reached it, though the flaps were tied back and people dipped in and out of it. By far the largest in the squad, it held five fully grown Demon males standing, along with a small cot, table, and wooden chest.

“Ah, Vagach, just the male I needed to see,” Jaku said by way of greeting.

I offered him a salute. “What can I do for you, Százados?”

Spread on the table in front of him was a map, and he smoothed a hand over it until he found a place. “We need to meet with the rest of the battalion here,” he pointed to a spot on the road near the mountains about halfway between our current location and a bright red star that marked the capital of the Demon Realm. “Is there any way we can cross this river instead of going around it?”