Krys lumbered along the dark path back to the house, now Luciado’s. Her smart-ass horse was killed, and she had been traveling for the last month constantly attacked by assassins. All she wanted was home. Now that everything was starting to come together, all she wanted was to hold her child, sleep in her own bed next to her husband. She looked at her oldest friends, and saw the exhaustion painted on their faces. Luciado’s new estate at least gave a few nights rest while they resupplied for the trip home. She realized how ironic it was that not so many decades ago this city was the home she would not have traded the world for, and now she wanted nothing more than to be on her way.