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"We need to make a plan," Matei said as he shut the door again behind him.

"You need to sit yourself down and rest. Your back." Rhea was hanging a kettle to heat on a hook over the hearth.

"It's fine now you've seen to it," Matei said. "Mhera and I cannot stay here, Grandmother. We put you at risk."

Rhea murmured, "I don't want you going back there."

"I must. There are people in danger. We must leave today—tomorrow at the latest. There isn't time."

The old woman said nothing. She reached for a clay jar that stood on the mantel and produced a small handful of tea leaves from it, which she sprinkled into the boiling water in the kettle, shaking her gray head.

"I want you to tell me where we're going," Mhera said into the silence.

Matei turned to look at Mhera. His expression was surprised, as if he had forgotten she was there, or as if he had not expected her to have anything to say.

She met his gaze. She feared him, yes, but she feared the secret path stretching before her too. "Tell me. There is no reason to hide it, is there? Not now."

"My—" Matei bit back the words. My lady, he had been about to say. But he glanced at Rhea's stooped back and continued. "Mhera ..."

"I know where he's headed," Rhea said. She carried the kettle toward the kitchen, a cloth wrapped around her hand to protect it from the hot metal handle. "Headed to Hanpe, he is."

"Grandmother."

"Matei, I do not know why this unmarked woman is here in your care, but I can see she is to go with you. And if she is to go with you, she deserves to know where you go. To the Duskwood. To Hanpe. Am I wrong?" She set the kettle on the table and rested her hands on the back of a chair, looking across the room at the man. "You're going—and you must not care whether you come back to me."

Mhera's heart turned over as she watched Rhea's calm face crumple into an expression of despair. The old woman put her hands over her eyes, shaking her head, and began to cry.

Matei crossed the room in a few strides and put his arms around Rhea's shoulders. "There, Rhea. Please don't cry. You're right. I'm going. But you mustn't cry."

In a halting voice interrupted by her sobs, Rhea said, "You'll never come back. I th-thought I would never see you again ... you there at my d-door, 'twas a miracle ..." She paused to draw a shuddering breath. "Rhodana. My g-girl—they took her from me, Matei! You're all I h-have now. You're all. If you leave this h-house you will never return. I know it in my bones!"

Mhera turned her eyes away from the intimate scene, wrapping her arms around herself. She felt sick. Scenes of the execution flickered through her mind with terrible clarity. She closed her eyes. The rest of it she heard, but did not see.

"Look at me, Rhea. Look at me, dear. Rhodana fought for us. For our people. She knew she wouldn't see the end of it in her lifetime. I might not see the end of it in mine. But she chose me to follow her. I must do this."

"You can't, Matei. There's no use! It's all d-death. Nothing but death—for you, for all of us."

"I would rather die a hundred deaths than live under the Corpsemaker's hand. You must understand, Rhea. This cannot all have been in vain. Rhodana's death cannot have been the end of it. And now they know where Hanpe lies. They got it out of someone. Not her, never her—she'd have died before breathing a word—but one of the others must have broken. They taunted me with it. If we don't move ... it's not just the brave ones among us that will die. All of them will die. Do you see?"

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