Morning light barely pierced the canopy as the group stumbled into a clearing. Exhaustion clung to their movements, heavy and unyielding, a weight more oppressive than their dwindling supplies. Cassie pushed strands of damp hair from her face, her eyes flicking across the group. Each figure’s movements were quiet and firm, their steps hesitant yet purposeful.

  A guttural curse broke the quiet.

  Callen knelt beside an opened pack, his brow furrowed as he held up a coil of rope. “Frayed,” he muttered, tossing it aside. “Useless.”

  Cassie moved closer, crouching to inspect the damaged rope. The fibers had been split with surgical precision. Not worn through, but sliced.

  Her stomach churned as she turned to inspect the rest of their supplies. Water flasks, once full, now lay discarded and dry. Food portions seemed smaller than they had the day before, their careful rations tampered with.

  “This wasn’t the beasts,” Cassie murmured, her hand brushing over the empty flasks. “Someone’s been in the cache.”

  Theodoric’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing, rising to address the group instead. “We keep moving,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for debate. “Make do with what we have.”

  Cassie bit back her frustration. This wasn’t the first time.

  A palpable unease settled over the group as they shouldered their diminished supplies. Cassie took her place near the front, her eyes darting between the uneven terrain and the shadows that lingered at its edges.

  The climb began an hour later, the group scaling a steep, rocky incline in their search for higher ground. The path was unforgiving, the loose rocks shifting treacherously beneath their boots.

  Cassie paused near the midpoint, checking the tension on the ropes they’d secured to guide the ascent. Her fingers brushed over the coarse fibers, her focus sharpening as she noticed an irregularity in the weave. It felt too smooth in one section, the strands unnaturally thin.

  A shout drew her attention upward.

  One of the nobles, Elias, had lost his footing. His boot slipped against a loose rock, and he fell heavily against the rope, which snapped under the sudden strain.

  “Hold on!” Cassie yelled, her dagger flashing as she lunged to grab him.

  Elias clung to the jagged rockface, his face pale and glistening with sweat. Cassie braced herself on a nearby outcrop, her hand gripping his arm as she hauled him upward with a sharp, deliberate pull.

  He collapsed onto the ledge, gasping for breath. Cassie crouched beside him, her eyes darting to the broken rope still dangling from the cliff.

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  The cut edges were unmistakable.

  “You saved me,” Elias rasped, his voice thin and trembling.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” she muttered, her gaze narrowing on the rope.

  Theodoric reached them moments later, his expression darkening as he noticed the same frayed edges she had. “What happened?”

  “The rope,” Cassie said evenly, though her anger simmered beneath the surface. “It wasn’t an accident.”

  Theodoric’s gaze swept the group below, his expression unreadable as he processed her words. “We’ll deal with it at the next stop,” he said finally, his voice low. “For now, we move.”

  The climb resumed in tense silence.

  Night fell by the time the group reached a defensible position from a rocky alcove shielded on three sides by towering cliffs. Theodoric ordered the camp set with quick efficiency, and Cassie began her rounds, checking for vulnerabilities in their perimeter.

  The air felt heavy, thick with the kind of silence that pressed against the ears. She crouched near the edge of the camp, her fingers brushing the dirt as she set a tripwire. The mechanism was simple but effective. It was a taut line tied to a stack of loose stones that would collapse at the slightest disturbance.

  Satisfied, she moved to the next position, repeating the process with methodical precision. Her senses were sharp, every flicker of shadow and crunch of dirt underfoot keeping her on edge.

  Near the final tripwire, she froze.

  A faint glint of metal caught her eye, half-buried in the dirt. Cassie knelt, her hand brushing aside the soil to reveal a blade. The hilt was unremarkable, but the emblem etched into the steel sent a cold jolt through her chest.

  She rose slowly, her fingers curling tightly around the knife. Her gaze swept the perimeter, searching for any sign of movement. The night remained still, but the presence of the blade was a clear message: they weren’t alone.

  She approached Theodoric’s position near the center of the camp, keeping her movements quiet. “We have a problem,” she said softly, holding out the knife.

  His eyes narrowed as he took it, his thumb brushing over the emblem. “Dietrich.”

  She nodded. “Someone got close enough to leave it.”

  He didn’t respond immediately, his focus shifting to the darkness beyond the camp. “Double the watch,” he said finally. “And keep this quiet.”

  Cassie nodded, slipping back into the shadows to complete her patrol.

  When dawn arrived, it brought no relief.

  Cassie woke to the sound of muffled curses. She rolled to her feet instantly, her dagger in hand as she followed the commotion to the supply cache.

  Empty packs lay strewn across the ground, their contents stripped bare. Hildiger stood over the mess, his face dark with anger. “Gone,” he muttered. “Everything’s gone.”

  Cassie’s chest tightened as she scanned the scene. The sabotage hadn’t been random. It had been systematic. Water had been drained, food portions had been gradually reduced rather than stolen all at once, and now, their last reserves were missing entirely.

  “They’ve been taking just enough to keep us weak,” she said quietly, turning to Theodoric.

  His expression was grim, his jaw tightening as he processed the implications. The group’s rations had been meager before, but now they were dangerously exposed.

  Paranoia rippled through the camp, the guards exchanging uneasy glances as they murmured among themselves.

  “Enough,” Theodoric said sharply, his voice cutting through the tension. “We press on. Pack what’s left and move out.”

  Cassie watched him as he issued commands, his calm authority keeping the group from fracturing entirely. But as she tightened her pack and took her position near the front, she couldn’t shake the weight of the knife in her belt or the deliberate precision of their enemy’s strikes.

  This wasn’t desperation. It was strategy.

  And they were running out of time to counter it.