“And why, exactly, do we have to see Arthur again?” I groaned, dragging my heels like a petulant child while Luna tugged me down the main pathway of the camp. Her grip on my wrist was firm, but her expression was every bit as unenthusiastic as mine.

  “He specifically asked for you,” Luna said with a sigh, her voice laced with mild irritation. “Personally, I’d rather be drinking with Kat and pretending the war doesn’t exist.”

  “Same!” I pouted, struggling against her grip in dramatic protest. “And here I thought tonight was finally going to be fun. But nooo—Arthur just had to ruin everything with his ‘tactical urgency.’”

  Luna didn’t bother responding this time—just rolled her eyes and kept pulling me along the carefully structured path between the tents.

  “But… why is he following us?” she asked suddenly, glancing back with a flick of her head.

  Curious, I turned—and sure enough, there was Tom, awkwardly speed-walking behind us like an overeager puppy. His eyes widened slightly as our gazes met, though he didn’t slow his pace.

  “Maybe…” I began with a wicked grin, “he fell in love with you.”

  “Meanie,” Luna mumbled, though the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile. She tightened her grip on my hand and broke into a jog, dragging me forward.

  “He was with you, though,” she added slyly. “Maybe he’s secretly harboring a tragic crush on you, Lucinda.”

  I skidded to a halt abruptly.

  “Don’t say such cursed things,” I said, mock horrified.

  Luna barely managed to avoid toppling over. Tom, however, didn’t have such reflexes. He came flying around the corner, slipped in the mud—and at the perfect moment, I oh-so-innocently extended my leg.

  Splat.

  Mud flew in every direction as Tom face-planted spectacularly into the ground. I clapped my hands together and laughed, absolutely delighted by his soggy misfortune.

  “Nah,” I said, grinning down at him. “We all have choices, right? And I firmly choose to reject your imaginary feelings for me.”

  Tom, now drenched in sticky brown mud and groaning miserably, blinked up at us in defeat. It was a moment of poetic justice. Sweet revenge for letting Markus open that damned carriage door.

  Luna and I couldn’t hold it in—we burst into a fit of laughter and took off again, leaving him in his muddy heap. But of course, stubborn little Tom wasn’t done. He struggled to his feet, covered from head to toe like a swamp creature, and somehow managed to keep chasing after us.

  “He is shockingly persistent,” Luna remarked as we reached the massive, velvety tent that served as Arthur’s mobile command post. She finally let go of my hand and stepped inside.

  “Creepy persistent,” I muttered, casting a final glance at the muddy specter behind us. “Makes me wonder what he really wants from me…”

  We entered the tent—and I immediately froze. It wasn’t just Arthur waiting for us.

  Seventeen officers—at least—stood inside, shoulder to shoulder, all wearing various medals, stripes, and smug expressions. Every single one turned their head toward me the moment I stepped in, as if I were a rabid dog they hadn’t expected to let off the leash.

  “Hi?” I offered, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

  Just then, Tom stumbled into the tent behind me, still dripping mud onto the pristine rug. His presence was met with a unified chorus of judgmental silence.

  Without missing a beat, I reached over, grabbed his shoulder, and gently but firmly turned him around. Then I pointed toward the entrance with my thumb.

  “Out,” I said sweetly.

  To his credit, he obeyed without protest, slinking out like a scolded child. One disaster averted.

  When I turned back, all seventeen pairs of eyes were still glued to me like I was about to lunge across the table and set someone on fire. To be fair, the thought had crossed my mind.

  I rubbed my face with both hands, half-expecting to find blood or drool smeared on it. I hadn’t—thankfully—but at least it gave me something to do while I stared back at them like a proud lunatic.

  Arthur, dressed in his usual polished uniform with not a single hair out of place, finally stood up.

  “Oh, Lucinda,” he said smoothly. “I hadn’t expected you quite so early. Gentlemen, I believe that concludes today’s briefing.”

  With trained precision, the officers began filtering out of the tent. Not one of them dared meet my gaze.

  Once we were alone, I threw myself into the nearest chair and swung my legs up onto the polished table, leaving glorious streaks of fresh mud in my wake. Arthur flinched—but he didn’t say a word.

  “So,” I said, lacing my fingers behind my head. “Why am I here? Because if this is just about that last little errand you sent me on, I’m going to scream.”

  Arthur folded his hands behind his back with the calm of a man who had long accepted he’d never understand me.

  “I heard you completed the task assigned to you,” he said, expression unreadable.

  Ugh. Of course that’s why, resisting the urge to follow up on my earlier statement.

  “With three dead,” I added dryly, inspecting my fingernails as if they were more interesting than anything he could say.

  “And those three died before anything actually started.”

  Arthur’s eye twitched. The table beneath my boots creaked softly.

  “I heard about your new subordinate,” Arthur said, without looking up from the table. His voice was smooth, but I could already tell he was fishing for something. “Is he capable?”

  What kind of question was that? As if I’d let some drooling idiot trail after me like a lost puppy.

  “More capable than all the grunts you have playing soldier out there,” I replied coolly, crossing my legs and brushing a fleck of dry mud from my sleeve. “Why? Thinking of stealing him from me?”

  “I see…” Arthur muttered, ignoring my jab as he shifted his attention back to the oversized map sprawled across the table. It was worn and smudged at the edges, lined with a precise yet chaotic sprawl of inked symbols and notes. He fiddled with a compass, then tapped several red dots scattered across the parchment.

  “You know what this is?” he asked, gesturing to the mess.

  “Not a single clue,” I said, reclining further into my chair. “Is this the part where you start lecturing me until my brain turns to soup?”

  Arthur’s lips tightened, but he carried on like I hadn’t spoken.

  “This is a map of the nightly camp layout. We adjust the setup slightly each evening depending on the terrain, but the foundation remains consistent.” His fingertip traced the camp’s perimeter, then circled a few of the red dots in succession. “And these?”

  I leaned forward, squinting at the ink blots.

  “Illegal breweries?” I guessed. “Though most of those should be clustered around Markus’ tent by now. Maybe a few mobile casinos?” Personally, I etched every one of these positions into my mind, even though I wouldn’t be able to find it later.

  Arthur didn’t laugh. He didn’t even twitch.

  “Murders,” he said plainly. “Fourteen in the last three days.”

  That made me sit up a little straighter.

  “Fourteen?” I echoed. “You’re joking.”

  “Do I look like I joke?” He met my gaze levelly before returning to the map. “The pattern is irregular. The victims were all found dead, yet there were no reports of fights beforehand. No sounds of struggle. No suspects. They all knew each other—some even tented near one another. We thought, at first, it might be you.”

  I arched a brow. “Charming.”

  “But you’ve been accounted for. As much as you enjoy mayhem, you tend to prefer a bit more noise when you’re involved.” Well, if that’s what he thought, then I could already start cutting people open in silence if I desired.

  I huffed. “If I was behind it, there’d be fireworks and at least one major explosion.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Exactly.” Arthur pressed his palms flat on the table. “We now believe it’s a group effort. Coordinated. Intelligent. Precise. That’s what worries me.”

  I studied the map more carefully this time. The red dots were sprinkled across the encampment like blood splatter—some close to the outer ring, others uncomfortably near the command quarters. There was no linear path, no obvious direction. Just chaos. Deliberate chaos.

  “You have a specialist for this sort of thing, don’t you?” I said, glancing at Luna. She flinched slightly when my gaze met hers.

  “I… I’ve read some things,” she said hesitantly. “But mostly about lone killers, compulsions… nothing about an organized group like this.”

  I clicked my tongue and leaned back again.

  “Well, that’s disappointing.”

  Arthur sighed, clearly resisting the urge to remind me this was my problem now.

  “Alright,” I murmured, narrowing my eyes. “What about the supply unit? They’re camped separately, aren’t they?”

  “Yes,” Arthur said. “Out past the western ridge.”

  “And not a single body turned up over there?”

  “Not one,” he confirmed.

  That was strange. Very strange. Especially considering that most of the main camp was an overflowing soup of testosterone. With so few women, the ones present would draw attention. Attention meant risk.

  But the supply unit? Untouched?

  “There’s something there,” I muttered, tapping my nails against the table. “Something odd. They should’ve been hit by now if this were random.”

  Arthur didn’t say anything. He just stared at me, his expression unreadable.

  Luna glanced between the two of us nervously.

  “I’m going to need access to the body reports,” I said finally, standing. “All of them.”

  Arthur didn’t object. Instead, he nodded once and walked to a locked chest tucked behind his desk. From it, he pulled a bundle of papers bound tightly with a black cord. When he handed them to me, I felt the weight of it—literal and metaphorical.

  “Find out who’s killing our people,” he said quietly. “Before they start killing faster.”

  I tucked the papers under my arm, turned on my heel, and waved over my shoulder. “Don’t worry. If they’re a group of killers hiding in your ranks… I’ll fit right in.”

  Shortly, I began inspecting the reports and found the first weirdness right away.

  “Strange. How many of the victims were found inside their tents?” I asked, arms crossed as I hovered over the map. One of the first bodies had been discovered that way—peacefully dead in a bedroll, as if sleep itself had betrayed them.

  “Six,” Arthur answered without hesitation. “All died without making a sound. No screams. No one nearby noticed anything until morning.”

  He pointed to six of the red dots, scattered throughout the camp like forgotten candle flames. Their locations didn’t help me much—not when half the army moved every other night like a bunch of aimless ants.

  “Where are the corpses?” I asked, hoping I could wring even a drop of insight from their bodies. Maybe the killer left behind a single, glorious clue. A mark. A smell. Something human.

  “We buried them already,” Arthur said, as expected. That was the usual procedure—burn or bury quickly to keep morale from sinking along with the stench of death.

  I sighed dramatically. “Then it’s hopeless. Nobody commits that many murders, so cleanly and quietly, and leaves nothing behind. It’s not just improbable—it’s impossible.”

  Arthur leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on the edge of the table. “Which is exactly why you’re the perfect person for the job.”

  I scowled. “You really need to stop attributing miracles to me. I can’t turn stone into gold, and I can’t pull clues from the dirt when there are none.”

  “You make the impossible possible,” he insisted, voice infuriatingly calm. “That’s what you do.”

  “I’m a soldier, Arthur. Not a detective.” I jabbed a finger into the map. “If you want someone stabbed, blown up, or emotionally destroyed, I’m your woman. But investigating murders? That’s not exactly my forte.”

  He didn’t flinch. “You’re also my subordinate. And I’m giving you two nights to find out who’s doing this.”

  Two nights.

  That was barely enough time to interrogate half the commanders, let alone untangle the motives of potential sociopaths living in cramped canvas neighborhoods.

  But fine. If he wanted a show, I’d give him one.

  Without a word, I stepped onto the table—mud-caked boots and all—earning a flash of frustration from Arthur as I smeared his precious table underfoot. I bent down, peeled the map off the table, and hopped off the other side, landing with a soft squelch on the muddy ground. Luna stared, blinking in surprise as I brushed past her.

  “Let’s solve a murder mystery,” I muttered to no one in particular.

  Tom was waiting outside the tent, cleaner than before but still damp in the ears and cheeks. He looked like he’d just finished wrestling with a washing tub—and lost. His eyes narrowed when he saw me, as if unsure whether to salute, scowl, or run.

  I waved him over instead.

  “Luna,” I said, turning toward her with a sudden, unnatural sweetness, “would you mind getting us something to eat? Something warm, if possible?”

  She blinked once, then smiled—brightly. “Of course.”

  She disappeared between the tents, and with her went the warmth from the air. My smile faded the moment she turned the corner.

  “I didn’t expect that,” Tom said beside me, his voice lower now, almost cautious. “That tone. That face. Around her, you’re…” He tilted his head slightly. “Different.”

  “What?” I asked flatly, even though I knew exactly where this was going.

  “I mean,” he continued, taking a small step back as if he’d already prepared for retaliation, “you’re acting so… nice to her. Gentle, even. I’ve never seen you like that. It’s like watching a different person entirely.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Hmm?”

  It was a low growl, a warning if he had any sense left in that skull of his.

  But of course he didn’t.

  “I’m just curious,” he said, raising his hands defensively. “Is there a reason you—”

  “Do I need a reason for everything?” I asked slowly, my voice low and cold as it slid between us like a blade. My right hand hovered dangerously close to the hilt of my sword, fingers twitching with restrained menace.

  Tom didn’t flinch. “Then what is it?”

  Persistent fool.

  He probably thought his status as my subordinate granted him some immunity from my fury—that I wouldn’t hurt him, not truly. He was wrong. I had hurt those I loved more than him with less provocation.

  Without warning, I drove my fist into his stomach. A solid blow—not enough to cripple, just enough to remind him he was not standing on equal ground. He gasped, doubling forward slightly, but didn’t retreat. Bold. Or reckless.

  I stepped in, close enough to cast a shadow over him, shielding us from the curious eyes beginning to turn our way. His defiance wasn’t a threat, but it did amuse me. Maybe he wasn’t completely spineless after all.

  “This doesn’t end well for you if you’re already this inquisitive,” I whispered, voice sharp as the tip of my blade. “Keep your nose out of things that don’t concern you.”

  He finally stepped back, eyes still locked with mine, and offered a quiet, “I was just curious. I’m sorry.”

  There was no fear in his gaze—just an unsettling mix of resolve and something else… understanding? Or worse, fascination. A faint blue shimmer glinted in his irises, gone in the blink of an eye. I eased off, though my instincts screamed to keep pressing. He wouldn’t question me so openly again—not directly—but he was already too interested for his own good.

  Still, a part of me was curious too. How far would he go? What would he dig up? And how much of it would be true? And would he find the guts to betray me?

  I let the silence linger between us a moment longer before speaking, deliberately dropping bait into the quiet.

  “Have you ever wondered what it takes to develop a split personality?” I asked, watching his reaction carefully, laying a path of treacherous breadcrumbs in front of him.

  His brow twitched. “Are you… schizophrenic?”

  Before I could answer—or lie—I spotted Luna in the distance, walking toward us with a bright smile and three skewers of roasted meat in her hands. I felt something shift inside me, a warmth that pulled at the corners of my mouth before I even noticed it.

  My hand shot up and I waved eagerly, even bouncing slightly on my heels. Ridiculous. I didn’t care. Whatever strangeness clung to me, whatever I couldn’t explain, her presence burned it all away for a moment.

  “Hey!” Luna called out, cheerful and unaware of the storm she was walking into. “I hope you didn’t have to wait too long… I also brought one for you.” She extended one of the skewers toward Tom with a kind smile.

  But I was faster. I plucked it out of her hand and bit into it with a smug grin, ignoring Tom’s blank look as his hand hovered awkwardly in the air.

  “I take two,” I declared between chews, as if this were the natural order of things. The meat was dry, tough, but warm—and I didn’t care in the slightest.

  Luna blinked, surprised, before laughing and handing me the second skewer. She always let me get away with things I shouldn’t.

  Then I turned toward Tom with a casual air and a sweet, false smile. “Tom… could you do me a favor and head to bed early tonight? It’s going to be a girl’s night!”

  He didn’t take it well—his jaw tensed, his pride pricked, but I saw the exhaustion too. Maybe I had pushed him too far today. Maybe he needed time to breathe, to reset.

  Not that this was entirely about his well-being.

  I needed eyes and ears in every corner of the camp during the day if I wanted to untangle this mess within two nights. A ridiculous deadline, if you asked me. Still, Tom wasn’t entirely useless. Maybe he understood that. He didn’t argue, didn’t complain, didn’t ask questions. Just offered a soft “Good night,” and slipped away into the camp’s dimming light.

  Good boy.

  “A girl’s night?” Luna echoed, brows rising slightly in amused confusion.

  She had no idea she’d just been drafted into a murder investigation. Cute.

  “Aye,” I said with a grin, the word rolling off my tongue with an enthusiasm I didn’t entirely fake. “Want to pull an all-nighter?”

  I tilted my head, watching her closely. She was young—not in the way children are, but in the way unweathered hearts are—and I half-expected her to hesitate. She was the kind of person who still worried about permission, who second-guessed herself before stepping into shadows. But I had a feeling she'd come around.

  “I don’t know…” she said, frowning slightly as she turned the thought over in her mind like a stone in her palm. I could see the worry creeping in—not about the lack of sleep, but about that woman we were cursed to travel with. The watchful one. The quiet manipulator.

  But I had already prepared the perfect excuse, tied up with a neat bow.

  “Sleeping in the carriage during the ride is better than staring holes into the wall.” I said, leaning in with a conspiratorial smile.

  She blinked and met my eyes. I didn’t push harder. I just let the suggestion linger, sweet and light on the air.

  “…Alright, I guess,” she said, the uncertainty melting from her voice like frost in sunlight.

  I lit up—maybe a little too much—but it didn’t matter. I had my partner.

  She might’ve thought we were going to whisper secrets and braid each other’s hair under starlight, but what I had in mind was bloodstained trails, whispered motives, and the silent, invisible predators slinking through this camp of fools.

  But first… I was going to enjoy her company. It might be the only thing tonight that didn’t make me want to kill someone.