‘Eva Cassidy wanted me dead.’ The thought rang in Vix’s mind, clear as a chorus of bells.

Beside her, Caine pushed himself upright. The glare of the fire threw his face into stark relief, a bloody watercolor of red and black. He stared at the remains of the wagon in shock.

“What happened?” Mirra squeaked from the ground. She was faced away from the fire, squirming to try and get a better look, hands and ankles still bound underneath her.

The sound of her voice ...