《Wordweaver》 Chapter One Never make promises. That¡¯s what Edlan told me, back on my first day as his apprentice. ¡°Never make promises and never set limits. When someone asks how long a task will take, say it will take as long as it must. That will guarantee two things. First, you will only ever complete a job before you are expected; and second, you will develop a reputation as a wise and mysterious miracle worker. Both are essential if you want to be an healer of any value.¡± I¡¯ve tried to take that advice to heart, but it¡¯s much easier to appear wise and mysterious when you¡¯re one of the village elders. Nobody wants to ask advice of a 19-year-old apprentice. Least of all a 19-year-old female apprentice. Ieldran save us¡ªwhat would the ancestors think? Well, maybe the female ancestors would approve. Papa does not. It would be different if I were just an apprentice, I think. He indulged me as a child because of the accident, but as I grew closer to marriageable age, he may have given in to the gossip and ended my apprenticeship early if Edlan was not so deeply imbedded in my secret. Edlan says keeping secrets is like keeping promises: it¡¯s better to avoid them altogether. But he¡¯s kept mine for thirteen years, so I suppose there are always exceptions. Fel stamps his hoof and lips at my braid, annoyed at not having my full attention. I push his huge head away and refocus on his breakfast. ¡°I¡¯m adding some dried apples,¡± I tell him, burying the fruit into his oats. ¡°We don¡¯t have many more, so try to savor them.¡± Fel shakes his shaggy mane and blows an acknowledging breath into my face. ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± I say, patting his neck. ¡°Now go on. I have to get to work.¡± He snorts a goodbye as I make my way back to the barn door, listening for sounds outside. Besides Fel¡¯s munching in the stall behind me, everything is quiet. Papa and Aze have already taken the sheep to the creek for water, and Mama is in the house getting ready to start the day¡¯s baking. I am alone, and it is early. Edlan won¡¯t expect me for another half hour. I have time to practice. I open my right hand, holding it up so I can see the scars lacing across my palm and down my wrist. My first inclination is always toward fire, but I won¡¯t risk that in the barn. Maybe ice? I open my mouth to form the word, the chill of it already spreading across my tongue. A sharp, intruding knock shatters the moment. The power fades as quickly as I¡¯d summoned it, driven deeper with every rap of knuckles against wood. Bronhold. Maybe I can hide in the barn until he leaves¡ªbut no, Mama will answer the door if he keeps knocking, and she¡¯ll tell him where I am. ¡°So much for a morning to myself,¡± I mutter, tugging open the door. Fel pricks his ears toward my voice, but his breakfast is more important than my misery, and he goes back to eating. ¡°Thanks for the support,¡± I tell him, but he only flicks his tail as if to say, Get on with it. Bronhold stands at the door to the house, his fist raised to knock again, but he turns when I step out of the barn. ¡°Ynria,¡± he says, a rosy tint of pleasure brightening his voice. You can tell a lot about a person from the color of their voice. Mama¡¯s is the burnished gold of sunrise, the glow of a fire holding back the cold of a winter night. Papa¡¯s is the opposite: cool blue to balance Mama¡¯s passion, adding depth and stability to her outbursts. And Aze, a combination of the two, is the friendly green of a spring meadow that shoots up overnight when winter finally fades, full of hope and promise. But Bronhold¡ªdull, relentless, uninspired Bronhold¡ªhas a voice the color of mud. ¡°Shall we?¡± he says, striding through the snow and offering his arm to me. I pull the door closed behind me. ¡°I¡¯ve told you already. I don¡¯t need you to walk me to town.¡± Bronhold¡¯s arm remains extended, sticking from his body like a wind-blown branch. ¡°I have your father¡¯s blessing today.¡± ¡°When did you speak to my father?¡± ¡°Yesterday. In town.¡± I edge past him, turning sideways to keep from stepping into the snowbank Aze cleared from the door yesterday. Bronhold trots after me, oblivious to my displeasure. ¡°I met him as I was returning from work,¡± he says. ¡°When I told him about the disappearances, he agreed that I should accompany you from now on.¡± ¡°Disappearances.¡± I snort the word, shoving my hands into my pockets. ¡°You¡¯ve been spending too much time at the inn. You know better than to listen to rumors.¡± He overtakes me in a few easy strides. ¡°They aren¡¯t rumors. The traders from Norwikk came in yesterday, and Kjerrin talked with a few of them. He said they¡¯ve seen Awnian soldiers in the valley, and they take anyone they find on the roads for the war with Ieli.¡± ¡°There is no war with Ieli.¡± ¡°There will be soon.¡± Bronhold offers his hand as I step over another snowbank to reach the road, but I pretend not to see it. ¡°Mother says this is how it happened before, during the Coastal Wars,¡± he goes on. ¡°Men started disappearing months before the first battle.¡± ¡°No one from the valley has gone missing. Fryr Edlan would know, and if he knew, so would I.¡± Bronhold laughs. ¡°I doubt Fryr Edlan shares everything with his apprentices.¡± ¡°I¡¯m his only apprentice,¡± I remind him. ¡°And yes, he does.¡± Bronhold¡¯s only response is another indulgent chuckle, so I give up the conversation. If he weren¡¯t the only man to show interest in me, I might have a better chance of convincing Papa to refuse him, but I alienated myself from most of the respectable suitors when I became Edlan¡¯s apprentice. A man wants a wife who will put him first, not her studies. And Bronhold will never understand my interests in herbs and healing. Or Wordweaving. We pick our way across the icy road toward the light burning in the Kynstett¡¯s tower far ahead. It used to be my job to trudge up the endless curling stairs to light the lantern every sunset, kindling the beacon to guide travelers to our haven. The fryrs rarely make the trek themselves, so the job falls to the youngest apprentice. For years there was only me, but three winters ago Fryr Arveg took on a boy from Norwikk as an acolyte. Now Hallis gets to make the climb. Thankfully, Bronhold remains silent for the duration of the walk. When we reach the outskirts of town we find shops already opening, and a handful of villagers stand in their doorways sharing gossip before the day begins. Fraue Strom lifts her hand from a basket of laundry to give us a cheerful wave. Her gaze lingers on Bronhold, a calculating smile touching her lips. Wonderful. By the time we reach the Kynstett, all of Vallegat will know who walked me to town, and Bronhold¡¯s mama will mark it as another tally in their favor. She and Bronhold already act as if he is my betrothed, even though Papa has made no agreement. He promised to hold off on his decision until I finish my apprenticeship in the spring. It¡¯s been my only hope for the last year, since Bronhold first started to pursue his (mother¡¯s) interest in me. Or, specifically, in Papa¡¯s pastures. It takes most of my control not to sigh in relief when we reach the Kynstett. The ancient structure¡¯s spire rises over the sod roofs like a mother goose over her chicks, welcoming me to safety, and I turn my back to its comforting shadow to face Bronhold. ¡°No soldiers to snatch me here.¡± He attempts a gallant bow, but he¡¯s so tall that he has to bend nearly double to look up at me. ¡°I will return to walk you home at sundown.¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m stopping by Mjera¡¯s tonight,¡± I say, inventing the excuse on the spot. ¡°Arun will walk me home.¡± ¡°Arun is only twelve,¡± Bronhold says. ¡°Too young for any soldier to want,¡± I say. ¡°If they really are taking men, I¡¯ll be safer with Arun than with you.¡± Bronhold blinks as if trying to find a way around my reasoning. ¡°But I would¡ª¡± ¡°You needn¡¯t make a special trip,¡± I repeat firmly. ¡°You have plenty of work to do, and so do I. Edlan¡¯s waiting for me.¡± ¡°Then¡­ I will return for you tomorrow,¡± he says. And I will leave early to avoid him. ¡°Goodbye, Bronhold.¡± He waves, and I hurry up the stairs before he can argue. I slip through the doors into the great hall, breathing out a sigh when I am safe within its walls. The Kynstett has always been a haven, and to more than those fleeing unwanted suitors. In ancient times, it was a meeting place for kings. High stone arches support a marble ceiling carved with images of all-powerful Ieldran and his other two forms, the Phoenix and the Pathkeeper. I lift my eyes to the towering figures, murmuring a morning prayer as I pass under the stone gazes. ¡°Ieldran, bless my work. Phoenix, protect my home. Pathkeeper, guide my way.¡± Fryr Edlan is in his study, already at work despite the early hour. His back is to me, so I shutter the lantern he keeps hanging beside the door to get his attention. He turns as the light winks over his desk, blinking behind his spectacles. ¡°Ah,¡± he says. I hear the question in the syllable and answer in the hand language he taught me. ¡°I know I¡¯m early. Bronhold walked me in again, so I hurried.¡± Edlan gives me a sympathetic nod. ¡°It¡¯s just as well,¡± he answers, his wrinkled hands forming the words as he drops his gaze to his desk. ¡°We have several new orders. Where did that list go¡­?¡± I shift a stack of papers and hold out the note he¡¯d charged me not to lose yesterday. He lays it on his desk and taps his messy handwriting. ¡°I have had three more orders for your mallow tea. The fever is lingering late this year.¡± ¡°I can make enough to distribute at the evening meditation,¡± I sign. Edlan nods. He lost his hearing to silver fever when he was a young man, and I know he fears another outbreak. ¡°I could do more¡­¡± I let my hands fall slowly, trailing off, hoping Edlan will guess at my meaning. The wrinkle between his brows tells me he has. ¡°You know that is not an option.¡± ¡°Wordweaving could heal them faster than any tea,¡± I press. ¡°Faster than bloodletting. It could prevent the sickness from spreading.¡± ¡°And how would you explain it?¡± he signs. I try a smile. ¡°Your reputation as a miracle worker would do that for me.¡± ¡°We have been over this,¡± he signs. He does not return the smile. ¡°I only want to help.¡± The hard line of his mouth softens, but his eyes remain sharp. ¡°It¡¯s too dangerous. Do you want to be taken away? Do you want to be forced into service in the king¡¯s army?¡± ¡°Surely if I only used it to heal¡ª¡± I start, but Edlan waves over my words. ¡°The king doesn¡¯t care why you Wordweave, only that you can. He would use you as a weapon, Ynria. Why do you not understand this?¡± ¡°I do understand,¡± I say, my hands drooping. ¡°But why would the Phoenix give me this gift if I was not meant to use it?¡± ¡°None of us can know the All-powerful¡¯s mind.¡± Elden gives me a long, tired look, and then gestures at his order list. ¡°Do you have enough supplies for that much tea?¡± My heart sinks at the dismissal, but I try to keep the disappointment from my face. ¡°If we limit it to the elders and the infirm.¡± ¡°Then prepare it. We will treat the others individually.¡± By we, he means he, but I try not to dwell on it. Women cannot be apothecaries, and most of the villagers refuse to let me treat them without Edlan there to supervise. Some women might accept me as a midwife without sorestry training, if I could convince Papa to let me remain unmarried, but they would never come to see a female healer. I look at my teacher as he turns back to his work, at the way the candlelight casts a halo over his white hair. I was too young to understand the scandal he caused by taking me on as an apprentice, but Papa likes to remind me of it when he feels I¡¯m not doing enough for the fryrs. ¡°They all suffered for Edlan¡¯s decision,¡± he says. ¡°You must serve them all to pay off that debt.¡± Most of the fryrs are grateful to have any apprentice around, boy or girl, especially since they know nothing can come of my work. I will either leave to learn midwifery with the soers in the Norwikk sorestry, or marry and discontinue my studies to take on the duties of a wife. Neither outcome affects them, and in the meantime, I am free labor. But I¡¯m determined to be as helpful as possible during my time here. Maybe if I¡¯m useful enough, they¡¯ll let me stay after my apprenticeship ends and I won¡¯t have to marry Bronhold after all. At least I can hope. *** I¡¯m filling the last of the tea sachets in Edlan¡¯s office when a thump of boots echoes down the hall. A moment later, a tawny-haired boy bursts into the room. Hallis, Fryr Arveg¡¯s apprentice. ¡°Ynria!¡± he pants. ¡°Bring Edlan, quick!¡± This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. I tug on the fryr¡¯s robes and point toward the door. ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± he asks aloud. The boy straightens, composing himself under Edlan¡¯s strict eye. ¡°There are strangers outside,¡± he says, signing hesitantly along with his speech. ¡°Dozens of them. Soldiers.¡± ¡°Soldiers?¡± Edlan repeats, slowly, like he thinks Hallis used the wrong sign. But Hallis nods, his eyes on me. He celebrated his fifteenth year this past fall, his third since he left his widowed mother in Norwikk to serve the fryrs. ¡°Ynria, you have to see it,¡± he says. He¡¯s only been learning hand language for a couple of years, and though he tries, I know he¡¯s more comfortable letting me translate. ¡°They¡¯re asking for the master of the village, so Fraue Jarrin sent them to the Belenost.¡± Soldiers. Real soldiers, here in the village. My heart stutters in my chest, sending waves of anxious nausea through me. Did someone find out about me? I¡¯ve been so careful to only Wordweave when I¡¯m alone, but maybe someone saw Edlan and me talking. Would one of my neighbors really turn me in to the king? ¡°Likely just travelers,¡± Fryr Edlan says, as if sensing my panic. ¡°Come along. Let us see what they want.¡± I put away the herbs with trembling hands and follow Hallis and Edlan through the halls. Out in the street, a crowd of villagers has already gathered to gawk at the newcomers. Most of them do look like soldiers, with leather armor and black armbands edged with silver thread, swords sheathed on belts against their hips or backs. Only a handful of them have horses; regal stallions that stand on slender legs, holding their narrow heads high. Compared to Fel, with his heavy muscles built for dragging plows and hauling wagons, they might as well be completely different creatures. A dozen men stand behind the soldiers, indistinguishable from my neighbors but for the fact that I don¡¯t recognize them. Travelers with an armed escort? Or are they soldiers too? Bronhold¡¯s warning comes back to me: They take anyone they find on the roads for the war with Ieli. Gathered at the foot of the stairs, the eleven other fryrs wait in stoop-backed anticipation, wringing their withered hands in the sleeves of their robes. They look at Edlan as we come through the door, deferring to his wisdom. One of the soldiers on horseback notices the attention paid to Edlan and calls up to us. ¡°I ask to speak with your council,¡± he says, his voice carrying easily over the crowd. ¡°I¡¯ve been informed your village has no master.¡± Edlan¡¯s eyes are still scanning the assembly, so I tap his arm and point out the soldier. ¡°He wants to speak with the council,¡± I sign. ¡°We will meet with you,¡± Edlan says out loud. ¡°Leave your horses for the boys to care for and follow us into the courtroom.¡± The soldier dismounts, his long black cape somehow appearing majestic rather than cumbersome. Four others on horseback follow him, handing off their reins to the several boys who dash forward. The rest of the soldiers stay where they are, keeping the non-armored men in the street. I step aside as the soldier and his comrades approach the stairs. Hallis leans close to me and points at the plain-clothed men with the soldiers. ¡°They¡¯re from Norwikk,¡± he whispers. ¡°I know some of them. We can ask them what¡¯s going on.¡± I hesitate, eyeing the crowded street before glancing back into the gloom of the Belenost¡¯s grand hall. ¡°You go ahead,¡± I say. Hallis nods and hurries down the steps, leaving me alone. If the soldiers were here for me, they wouldn¡¯t have asked to speak with the elders, and they wouldn¡¯t have come with a whole unit of soldiers. Even Wordweavers are not all-powerful. I could not be expected to fight off even a handful of men on my own, Wordweaving or no. Bronhold must be right. They¡¯re here for the war. Edlan has taken the head of the round table the fryrs use for meetings, leaving the rest of the men to fill in around him. Two soldiers pause by the door, and I squeeze inside and take up a position against the wall as they close the doors, cutting off the sounds from the street. The lead soldier takes the chair across from Edlan, motioning for his comrades to sit. ¡°My name is Tenant Warchass Gryfalkr,¡± he says, setting long fingers against his tanned brow in a formal salute. ¡°We represent the First North Infantry stationed at Fort Foltepp, two days¡¯ march from your village.¡± ¡°Welcome, Tenant,¡± Edlan says cautiously, his eyes on the soldier¡¯s lips. ¡°What brings you to Vallegat?¡± ¡°I seek courageous hearts to serve our cause.¡± I frown from my vantage point at the side of the room. The tenant¡¯s voice is the deep blue of distant storm clouds, and the threat of thunder rumbles on his words. His hair is vaak, a common mountain coloring of white with black roots. A squareness about his chin speaks of mountain ancestry as well, but his voice carries the flat accent of a plainsman. ¡°What cause?¡± Edlan asks after a heavy exchange of looks with the other fryrs. ¡°With Ieli just beyond the valley, you more than anyone must know the threat of war,¡± Tenant Gryfalkr says. ¡°I trust there have been no raids on your village?¡± Edlan¡¯s eyes flick to mine. ¡°No raids. Valued members of this community proudly claim Ielic lineage, Tenant. We know King Ryvenlock holds no love for the Ielics, but we of the valley have always maintained peace with our northern neighbors.¡± I give him a weak smile. Mama would thank him for that comment. ¡°The king¡¯s love is irrelevant,¡± Tenant Gryfalkr says, his voice streaked with surprised gold. ¡°I come to you on behalf of Grand General Ambritten.¡± ¡°Grand General?¡± Edlan repeats. ¡°A new promotion? Forgive us. Winter makes travel through the mountains difficult, and the snow has been heavy this year. We often go without news from the king¡¯s city until the passes clear.¡± ¡°Then I have the honor of being the first to spread the happy news,¡± Tenant Gryfalkr says in a slow, flat voice. ¡°The Ryvenlocks are dead.¡± A murmur of surprise ripples through the fryrs. Confusion stains their voices a thick, muddy yellow, and the sound of it seeps into my skin like cold water soaking through my boots. Dead? All of them? Since the beginning of our history, a Ryvenlock has ruled over Awnia. How can there be no king? And then, shamefully, a spark of hope burns through the surprise. If there is no king, do I still have to hide? ¡°King Anvarr Ryvenlock was a tyrant,¡± the tenant goes on. ¡°His death is no great loss. We are free under Grand General Ambritten, and you will soon see how much better life will be for all Awnians. However, Ieli still threatens our borders, now more than ever. Their king believes Awnia to be weak because of this change in leadership, and he has amassed an army thousands strong.¡± Edlan¡¯s frown has gone from puzzled to fearful. ¡°And you need soldiers.¡± The tenant nods. ¡°We have but one way of mustering a sufficient defense. One man from every family in Awnia is hereby called upon to serve in Grand General Ambritten¡¯s army.¡± The color drains from Edlan¡¯s face¡ªand the faces of the other fryrs with him. ¡°Conscription has not been practiced in generations,¡± Edlan says. ¡°The king¡¯s standing army has always been able to¡ª¡± ¡°The Grand General has found the king¡¯s army lacking,¡± Tenant Gryfalkr interrupts. ¡°If he is to defend our borders, he must have more men.¡± ¡°We would need to give the men time to put their affairs in order before leaving,¡± Edlan hedges. ¡°We will leave the day after tomorrow.¡± I stare at Edlan, my throat squeezing around my breath. Winter has stretched so long this year that the planting is already delayed. How will we be able to do the work with so many gone? ¡°We can¡¯t spare them,¡± I sign. ¡°Tell them we can¡¯t.¡± ¡°There¡¯s nothing I can do,¡± Edlan answers silently, his hands trembling around the words. The tenant turns his head, following Edlan¡¯s eyes and fixing me with a gaze that pins me to the wall. ¡°Hand signing?¡± he asks, still looking at me rather than Edlan. ¡°Come closer. Repeat what you said.¡± I flick a desperate glance at Edlan, who has half-risen as if to come to my aid. But he said he could do nothing. If the tenant is inviting me to speak, perhaps he can be reasoned with. I take a breath and push away from the wall. ¡°Our families can¡¯t spare the men,¡± I say, slowly, trying to make my voice even. ¡°There must be some other way to get soldiers.¡± Tenant Gryfalkr studies me, raking his eyes over my simple dress and the two white braids hanging on either shoulder. ¡°Your concern is understandable,¡± he says finally. ¡°You stand to lose a sweetheart, perhaps?¡± Please. If they take Bronhold, all the better¡ªI¡¯d help him pack for the journey. ¡°It¡¯s natural to feel some trepidation,¡± the tenant goes on. ¡°But we must have every man possible if we are to have hope against Ieli. We¡¯ve already gathered men from your neighbors in Norwikk, and they were glad to join us. Some sacrifice is necessary for the safety of our great country.¡± His volume rises slightly, but the inflection of his voice never changes. I shake my head and take another step forward. ¡°But if a family cannot¡ª¡± ¡°The order has been given,¡± he interrupts gently, turning back to the table to address Edlan. ¡°Will you obey?¡± Edlan sends a long look towards me before glancing at Fryr Bronin, who has been interpreting my conversation with the tenant. ¡°We will make your order known among the villagers,¡± he says at last, refocusing on the tenant. ¡°Good,¡± Tenant Gryfalkr says. ¡°Then we must discuss tonight¡¯s lodgings. My men will need a place to stay. Have you an inn?¡± Edlan settles his hands on the table. ¡°Yes, but it will not host all of your men. How many do you have?¡± ¡°Forty.¡± ¡°We have some cots for travelers who cannot afford the inn,¡± Edlan says. ¡°We can set them up here in the hall, but there will not be enough for your whole force.¡± ¡°Then your villagers will house the rest,¡± Tenant Gryfalkr says. Anger flares in my chest. It¡¯s not enough that they will take our men¡ªthey will demand to stay in our houses, too? I wait for Edlan to argue, to tell him they will have to make do with the inn and the great hall, but he only dips his head in a show of submission. ¡°I will arrange it.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± Tenant Gryfalkr says in that same flat tone. He pushes his chair back and rises to his feet. ¡°The Grand General is grateful for your compliance.¡± The other men at the table follow, and the soldiers turn as one to leave the hall. As he passes me, Tenant Gryfalkr catches my gaze before turning his eyes to the door. I chase him from the room with my glare, fighting the urge to run back to Edlan. Three of the fryrs follow the soldiers to spread the word to the other villagers. Edlan watches them go, his shoulders drooping further with each man who exits the building. ¡°Ynria,¡± he signs. The shape of my name in his hands is loose. Defeated. ¡°There must be something,¡± I say. Edlan shakes his head. ¡°Ieldran bids us submit to our government. If the new ruler has made this order, then we must obey. Come, help Hallis set up the cots.¡± ¡°And who will have the honor of hosting their kidnappers?¡± I sign, switching to hand language in case any of the soldiers are listening. ¡°Do not be difficult,¡± Edlan signs. At my sullen silence, he deflates and goes on with softer motions. ¡°Sometimes in life, we come up against problems that cannot be solved. Not by reasoning, not by resisting, and not by¡­¡± He hesitates, but I know the word he refuses to sign. Wordweaving. ¡°Every healer faces these situations, eventually. In spite of all our knowledge, treatments sometimes fail. For the sake of your patients and for yourself, you must accept this. Learn this lesson now, while you are young, and let it inform your future.¡± What future? I want to demand. I can¡¯t be a healer. Even if Bronhold leaves with the soldiers, I¡¯ll have to forgo my studies to take over Aze¡¯s work at home, and when Bronhold returns, everything will go back to the way it is now. There is no future for me here. But Edlan is already turning away to usher me toward the storerooms. He tells me to get started while he fetches Hallis, and I swallow my discontent to play my part as the obedient apprentice. Hallis and I spend the next hour dragging cots from various storage rooms throughout the Belenost and depositing them in the main hall, Hallis chattering excitedly while I try to control the urge to throw up. I find my eyes drifting upward as we work, returning again and again to my favorite sculpture: a phoenix rising from a bed of intricate flames, wings spread wide over the huddled forms of a raven and a dragon. The creatures represent Awnia and Ieli respectively, coming together under the shelter of the Phoenix¡¯s protection. Whenever the two countries have had conflict with one another throughout history, they have come here to Phoenix Valley. To Vallegat. The size of the valley prevents large armies from gathering during peace talks, making our little village the perfect meeting place. Fryr Edlan said his grandfather was present during the last great meeting between the kings of Awnia and Ieli, before the ancient treaties were broken. There has been conflict ever since. I blink up at the statue. If ever we have needed a mediator, it¡¯s now. Please, Phoenix, send us a miracle. The door opens as if in answer to my prayer, but instead of my salvation, it is Tenant Gryfalkr who enters the hall. He scans the progress of the beds around the room, squinting in the low light. His eyes slow as they pass over me, recognizing and dismissing me in almost the same moment. The phoenix¡¯s gaze burns into me. I won¡¯t make it that easy for him. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back,¡± I tell Hallis, hurrying across the room and patting the dust off my sleeves. I clear my throat and force a polite, ¡°Tenant?¡± He studies me as I approach, gaze lingering on my hands as I smooth out the wrinkles in my dress. Up close, he doesn¡¯t look old enough to hold the rank of tenant¡ªhe must only be a few years older than me. ¡°You again,¡± he says, his voice pleasant but uninviting. ¡°Let me guess. You¡¯re here to beg an exception for your sweetheart. Are you to be married soon?¡± Irritation swallows uncertainty, strengthening my resolve. ¡°I don¡¯t have a sweetheart. But surely there must be exceptions for others? Would you deprive a wife of her husband and a daughter of her father when there is no one else to work their land?¡± ¡°There can be no exceptions,¡± the tenant says. ¡°If we make an exception for one family, we must excuse them all.¡± ¡°That isn¡¯t true. What of families who have several sons? They can spare one more easily than a widow who has no one but her only child. And what happens to families who have no men?¡± ¡°Are there any?¡± the tenant asks. I frown at his implication that I would lie. ¡°My friend Mjera lost her father last year. Who should she send?¡± ¡°She has no brothers?¡± ¡°She does, but the oldest is not yet thirteen. Surely the army has no use for someone so young.¡± ¡°I was younger than that when I joined the army. And I find young men often enjoy the life of a soldier. Travel, adventure¡ª¡± ¡°Dying in battle?¡± I snap. A few heads turn my way, and I clamp my lips shut over my rising anger. Tenant Gryfalkr watches me, folding his arms and leaning back against a stone pillar. ¡°No, don¡¯t censor yourself now. If you¡¯re going to speak, you might as well be candid.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t mock me.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dare.¡± Pale, sober blue envelopes his words, adding a shade of sincerity to his voice. ¡°I know this is difficult, but it¡¯s the reality of the world. We need men to fight, or we will be overrun by the Ielics. Other villages have supplied their men. Why should your home be exempt?¡± ¡°No one should have to fight if he doesn¡¯t wish to.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a privilege,¡± the tenant argues. ¡°A chance for glory, to put your village in a place of honor among the bravest in Awnia.¡± ¡°Ieldran teaches that it¡¯s more honorable to go quietly about your work without expecting praise.¡± A smile touches the tenant¡¯s face. ¡°I appreciate your candor. And I wish I could help.¡± ¡°But you won¡¯t.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± Helplessness sinks through me, and I turn away to hide the frustration on my face. He reaches out and catches my elbow. ¡°What is your name?¡± he asks. I jerk my arm out of his grasp. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Your fryrs tell me there are eight beds at the inn. How many do you have here?¡± Confused by the change in topic, I frown and search his face, tempted to tell him to count them himself. ¡°Twenty-eight.¡± ¡°That leaves only four to be hosted in the village.¡± ¡°Can you not find room for four here?¡± I ask, exasperated. ¡°Would you really impose upon a family during their last days together?¡± He lifts a hand to his chin, which is shaved close in the lowland style. His face is windburned, but I can see the hints of a light complexion beneath the red skin¡ªanother suggestion of mountain heritage. ¡°I propose an exchange. I¡¯ll find a place for three of my men within the inn or here in the hall¡ª¡± I start to thank him, but he holds up a finger to stop me. ¡°If you agree to host me.¡± His words hit me like a wall of winter air. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°You asked for a way to spare your villagers the burden of hosting my men,¡± the tenant says. ¡°I offer it to you.¡± My eyes narrow, and a needle of suspicion pierces my anger. ¡°Why me?¡± ¡°I¡¯m curious,¡± he says. ¡°I want to know who you argue for, if not a sweetheart. A brother, perhaps? If he has your spirit, he may make a valuable soldier.¡± No, that isn¡¯t it. There must be more, but I can¡¯t imagine what he could want from me. There are prettier girls in the village, if that¡¯s what he¡¯s after, and it¡¯s not as though he could do anything to me with Papa and Aze at home. At my continued silence, he lets a small sigh through his lips and lowers his voice. ¡°Very well. In the past, I¡¯ve found it helpful to spend the night away from new recruits when we stay in villages. It preserves their sense that I am separate from them, that my rank allows certain privileges, and they respect me more for it. When it comes time to give orders, they¡¯re more willing to follow them. It also provides a chance for me to learn more about the culture of the village itself so I can better understand the men.¡± Deep, honest blue permeates his words, but still I hesitate. There¡¯s something else, I¡¯m sure of it, but I have nothing but a feeling to argue with. The tenant gives me a moment to consider his words before adding, ¡°And I wish to help.¡± ¡°Conditional help is not help,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s all I can offer.¡± I want to argue, but if it would keep the other soldiers out of villagers¡¯ homes, how can I refuse? ¡°We have no extra beds,¡± I say. ¡°You would have to sleep on the floor.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve done so before.¡± I make a minimal effort to keep the glare out of my eyes. ¡°Then by all means, Tenant. When I¡¯m finished here, you are welcome in my home.¡± The flat tone of my voice, so similar to the one he had used earlier, draws a half smile to his lips. ¡°And you promise you will not try to leave without me?¡± Edlan would disapprove of the wording, but what choice do I have? I take a slow breath, burying the misgivings that twist through my stomach as I meet the tenant¡¯s gaze. ¡°I promise.¡± Chapter Two ¡°Tell me your name.¡± I look at the tenant, who stands a full head taller than me. Our feet crunch through the hardened snow as we make our way from the village, following the footprints Bronhold and I made this morning. I let my gaze fall back to the snow and squint against a sudden wind. ¡°You may call me Fraela Solln.¡± ¡°Fraela,¡± he echoes. ¡°Then you are unmarried?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t see why that matters,¡± I say stiffly. He smiles. ¡°It comforts me to know that I will not be depriving you of your husband.¡± I look away, having nothing polite to add to the conversation. After a few steps, the tenant says, ¡°Solln. That¡¯s a mountain name.¡± ¡°I¡¯m a mountain girl.¡± ¡°I mean an old mountain name. From the Saani, isn¡¯t it?¡± Grudging interest draws my gaze back to him¡ªto the black roots anchoring his white hair. ¡°Do you have Saani ancestors?¡± ¡°Possibly,¡± he answers, pulling at a strand of his hair. It curls around his finger and falls back against his ear. He wears it longer than the other soldiers, leaving it loose and wind-blown. Most of the men I know favor shorter styles, or else pull their longer hair back out of their faces. When he looks down at me, his hair almost covers his eyes. ¡°My mother was from the foothills, though she said her family came from the mountains. I never met any of them.¡± He waits, his easy silence inviting me to offer my background in return. I study the bare trees beside the road instead. ¡°I suppose many in Vallegat can claim Saani heritage,¡± he continues when I don¡¯t speak. ¡°I¡¯ll admit that I was a little disappointed to find no reindeer herds in the valley.¡± I roll my eyes at him. ¡°The Saani were forced to give up nomadic herding when the Awnians settled the lowlands,¡± I say. ¡°There are few traditional Saani tribes left. Most intermarried with the Awnians generations ago. We raise sheep now.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re a shepherd?¡± the tenant asks. ¡°I¡¯m an apprentice.¡± Tenant Gryfalkr gives me a patient smile. ¡°Your father is a shepherd? Or that brother you haven¡¯t mentioned?¡± I shoot him a suspicious look, and he shrugs. ¡°There must be someone helping your father if you spend your days with the fryrs. Let me guess. A younger brother? One you feel you must protect?¡± ¡°I want to protect all the villagers,¡± I say, a scarlet edge gleaming around my words. His smile twists into something I can¡¯t read¡ªamused, dismissive, possibly even pitying. ¡°How old is he?¡± An anxious burst of something that could easily turn into panic flares up my spine. ¡°He¡¯s seventeen,¡± I say, the words rushing out of me. ¡°But he¡¯s also half Ielic. If you hate them so much, you wouldn¡¯t want him in your army, anyway.¡± ¡°But you and your brother were born here in Vallegat?¡± I hesitate. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Then you¡¯re Awnian. Plenty of border and coastal citizens claim Ielic ancestry. If we banned Ielic blood, we¡¯d not have half our northern forces.¡± The tenant¡¯s gaze returns to me. I try to glare his attention away, but his expression remains pleasant and patient. ¡°What?¡± I demand finally. ¡°Addressing you as fraela seems too formal when I am to be a guest in your house,¡± he says. ¡°I thought the mountain people valued hospitality above formality and titles.¡± My frown deepens into a glower. ¡°You¡¯re preying upon my ¡®mountain hospitality¡¯ to secure a bed for the night. That does not make you my guest. And don¡¯t forget, Tenant, that I am half Ielic, and Ielics do value formalities and titles.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a fair point,¡± the tenant says mildly. ¡°I withdraw my objections and will content myself with your family name, Fraela Solln.¡± Somehow, he still makes the title sound familiar¡ªlike it¡¯s a private joke between us rather than the barrier I¡¯d intended it to be. I look away, fuming. We walk the rest of the way in silence, with me keeping a healthy distance between us while he acts as though he doesn¡¯t notice. Before long, my snow-covered sod roof rises out of the field, puffs of smoke swirling from the ventilation window in the wooden gable. Despite my irritation, a glow of pride warms me when Tenant Gryfalkr gives it an impressed nod. Papa built this house with the help of his friends from the Coastal Wars, and it¡¯s one of driest and warmest buildings in Vallegat. Aze is outside splitting wood when we approach the house. The muscles in his back bunch as he lifts the ax Papa used when he was a boy, and the force of his swing sends half the log he was splitting careening off into the snow. I look at him through Tenant Gryfalkr¡¯s eyes and see a young man made strong by daily work, unattached and eager for adventure. As Aze bends to replace the log on the chopping block, he turns his head toward the sound of our footsteps. ¡°Kjerrin came by,¡± he says, without lifting his gaze from his work. ¡°Were there really soldiers in town today?¡± I should have guessed Aze¡¯s loud-mouthed friend would have rushed over to spread the news. ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°There were soldiers.¡± ¡°They¡¯re here about the war, aren¡¯t they?¡± Aze says, straightening with his back to me. ¡°Yes. They spoke to¡ª¡± ¡°Is there going to be a battle?¡± Aze says, swinging at the log again. I frown as another slice of kindling splinters into the snow. ¡°Let me finish.¡± ¡°Kjerrin already told me,¡± he goes on. ¡°He was in town when they rode in. I told you there would be a war.¡± ¡°Aze.¡± ¡°I know you didn¡¯t want to believe it, but¡ª¡± ¡°Aze.¡± My voice is hard enough that he turns at last, surprise flashing over his face as he takes in the sight of Tenant Gryfalkr beside me. The ax sags from his grasp. ¡°Oh¡ªsir,¡± he stammers. ¡°You¡¯re¡ªI mean¡ªwhat can we do for you?¡± ¡°Tenant Gryfalkr will be staying with us tonight,¡± I say, in as emotionless a voice as I can muster. ¡°There aren¡¯t enough beds in town.¡± ¡°Your sister was kind enough to offer your home,¡± the tenant says, flashing me a half grin. I bristle at the familiarity in his look, but he¡¯s already reaching around me to offer his hand to my brother. Aze takes it enthusiastically, and I watch the way the tenant¡¯s forearm flexes as they shake¡ªtesting Aze¡¯s grip, gauging the strength hidden beneath his loose jacket. He¡¯s built like Papa, like the strength of the mountain was bred into him. The dark hair he inherited from Mama is the only hint that he¡¯s not fully Awnian. I crouch to load my arms full of the wood scattered at Aze¡¯s feet. ¡°Does Mama know about the soldiers?¡± ¡°She was outside when Kjerrin came,¡± he says. When I move to stack the firewood against the house, he picks up another pile and hurries after me. ¡°How did you get the tenant to agree to come here?¡± he whispers, leaning close to my ear. ¡°I didn¡¯t want him here,¡± I answer in the same low tone. ¡°Why not? It¡¯s an honor for him to stay with us!¡± The scowl threatening my expression is getting harder to control. ¡°You could try to look a little less green about it.¡± ¡°No one sees the colors but you,¡± he says, letting the logs tumble into place in their stacks. ¡°You know what green means.¡± His gaze wanders back to Tenant Gryfalkr, who waits patiently for us to finish our whispered conversation. ¡°Fine,¡± Aze says. ¡°I¡¯ll admit it. I¡¯m excited. It¡¯s exciting to think about traveling the world like Father did. Happy?¡± Father, not Papa. He stopped saying ¡°papa¡± when he turned sixteen. When he tried calling Mama ¡°mother¡±, she referred to him as ¡°male offspring¡± until he stopped. ¡°Is Papa back yet?¡± I ask. ¡°No, but Ina¡¯s inside.¡± I turn back to the tenant, who smiles as though we haven¡¯t just been talking about him in the most obvious way possible. ¡°If you wouldn¡¯t mind waiting here for a moment,¡± I say, attempting a tight smile in return. ¡°I should explain our situation to my mother.¡± Tenant Gryfalkr nods. ¡°Of course. Aze, is it? Here, allow me.¡± He takes the ax from the splitting log and lifts it over his shoulder. ¡°Oh, you needn¡¯t trouble yourself,¡± Aze sputters. ¡°I¡¯m happy to help,¡± the tenant says. ¡°I aught to give something in return for a place to stay, after all.¡± ¡°No¡ªplease¡ªit¡¯s our pleasure,¡± Aze says. I leave them arguing and duck inside the house. A fire burns in the pit in the middle of the floor, enveloping the main room in smoky warmth. Mama already has a cut of venison roasting in a soapstone pot in the coals, and the smell of onions and wild garlic blends with the dusky green scent of the rosemary she used for seasoning. The room is dark, lit only by the fire and the single window in the eastern wall. We don¡¯t have glass like the Kynstett¡ªfew of the village houses do¡ªbut Papa made a covering of thin, flattened cow horn to let in the light. The main room, which serves as kitchen, dining area, and common room, is empty, so I assume Mama must be in the study. It¡¯s my favorite room in the house, built by Papa as a wedding gift to hold Mama¡¯s collection of books from Ieli. It takes up most of the western wall, along with their bedroom. The doors to both rooms are open to take in the heat from the fire. I step around it and peer into the study, a small, plain room with bookshelves built into the windowless walls. Two wooden rocking chairs take up one corner, and beside the door, the table Mama uses as a desk bears a glowing lantern. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. She¡¯s sitting at the table, bent low over a scattering of papers, and she doesn¡¯t look up when I come in. I stand over her shoulder and read a few lines of Ielic text, unsure of how to broach the topic of our new houseguest. ¡°What are you working on?¡± I ask instead, hoping to ease into the conversation. ¡°Seasonal records,¡± she mutters. ¡°The fryrs asked me to translate the Ielic passages. They want to know the last time winter lasted this late in the season.¡± Ah, Edlan had mentioned that. Something about wanting to prove a record. Mama runs her finger across the paper, her mouth pressed into a firm line. This had been her work before meeting Papa, when she still lived in Ieli, and Edlan makes a point of recruiting her as often as possible. I think he knows she misses it. ¡°Ina...¡± I use the Ielic word for ¡°mama¡±, hoping her native tongue will comfort her. She lifts red-rimmed eyes and motions for me to sit. I drag one of the rocking chairs to her desk and look over the tiny notes she¡¯s made in the margins of the pages. The languages mix the way they sometimes do when she speaks. ¡°Different words for different meanings,¡± she¡¯d told me once. ¡°The translation isn¡¯t always enough.¡± ¡°Aze says there were soldiers in town,¡± she says, her voice a heavy, wilting blue. I keep my eyes on her notes. ¡°They said Anvarr Ryvenlock is no longer king. A man called the Grand General is in command now.¡± Mama shakes her head. ¡°No king? How did this happen?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. But the Grand General is the one calling for soldiers. He says there will be war with Ieli again.¡± ¡°There is always war with Ieli.¡± She knows that better than anyone. Before Papa, she lived in one of the Ielic port cities near the border of Awnia, and she saw plenty of fighting. She doesn¡¯t speak of it as often as Papa does, but her life has been lived against the backdrop of the Coastal Wars just as much as his. ¡°They want a man from every family,¡± I say, unable to avoid the topic any longer. ¡°They¡¯re going to take Aze.¡± Mama nods and lifts her eyes to the dark ceiling. ¡°I know, afiila.¡± Even the use of her nickname for me, the Ielic word for ¡°little bird¡±, does not cheer me up. ¡°We can¡¯t let it happen,¡± I say, desperation sending tremors through my words. ¡°If we refuse, we can¡ª¡± ¡°We cannot refuse,¡± Mama says. ¡°If we did not give the men willingly, the soldiers would take them. Besides, Aze is old enough to leave home, and it will do him good to see what life is like outside the valley. Your papa went to sea when he was Aze¡¯s age.¡± I stare at her. ¡°You want Aze to go to war?¡± ¡°Of course not. But I cannot keep him here forever, just as I cannot keep you.¡± She gives me a wan smile. ¡°The Pathkeeper blesses any choice that honors Him, especially when it comes to finding a new way in the world. He will bless Aze¡¯s as well.¡± ¡°How is that Aze can choose his life with the Pathkeeper¡¯s blessing, but I can¡¯t?¡± I ask. ¡°Isn¡¯t a healer¡¯s work just as honorable as a soldier¡¯s?¡± ¡°They are both honorable,¡± Mama says. ¡°But running your own household, becoming a wife and a mother¡ªthose are the most honorable things you can do.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to marry Bronhold.¡± Mama shifts in her chair and takes my hands. Her skin is cold, and when she speaks a melancholic blue stains her voice. ¡°Marriage isn¡¯t so bad. Bronhold will be kind to you, even if he does not understand you at first. He will not deny you your studies as some men might.¡± ¡°I can study without a husband. Perhaps Edlan would let me live in the Kynstett so I wouldn¡¯t be a burden on you.¡± ¡°You are not a burden, afiila,¡± Mama says. ¡°But there is more to life than cataloging plants. A little time from Bronhold will be a good thing. You will see him with new eyes when he returns.¡± If he returns. I swallow and let my eyes drift away from her face. ¡°You speak as if I am already his.¡± There¡¯s a long pause, and my stomach sinks as I stare at her. ¡°Bronhold is a good match for you,¡± she says at last, squeezing my fingers. ¡°Strong enough to build you a house in the north pasture by that little stream you love. Wouldn¡¯t that be nice?¡± ¡°No.¡± I have to force the word through a throat that constricts around every breath. ¡°This is good timing,¡± she goes on. ¡°Bronhold will serve honorably and come back a worldly man. He will be able to provide for you.¡± ¡°Ina, please¡ª¡± ¡°This is the best path for you. When the soldiers leave, you can move into Bronhold¡¯s house, learn his family, help his mama, and continue your studies. Nothing will change.¡± Panic flutters through my chest. ¡°Mama, you don¡¯t mean it. You wouldn¡¯t make me marry him, not after how many times I¡¯ve said I dislike him.¡± She cups one icy hand against my cheek. ¡°You lack perspective, my love. Marriage seems a wild and distant thing, a terrible curse that will bind you to a life you do not want. But marriage is a security. It will give you a warm home, food on your table, children on your lap. You will see.¡± ¡°What about Wordweaving?¡± I ask, my hands trembling in hers. ¡°I will never be able to tell Bronhold the truth about me.¡± ¡°Wordweaving is a thing you do,¡± Mama says. ¡°It is not who you are. We all must give some things up when we marry. I was once the best translator along the border, and now I use my talent for transcribing village records. You will find a way to Wordweave around Bronhold, or you will live without it. We always have paths.¡± I pull my hands free. ¡°Then you have made up your minds?¡± Mama gives me a tired look. ¡°Your father spoke with Bronhold¡¯s mama this afternoon. I know you think we have not considered your feelings, afiila, but we do this out of love. If you do not marry Bronhold, there will be no one to take care of you.¡± She doesn¡¯t say the rest: no one else is interested. She doesn¡¯t have to say it. I¡¯ve heard her and Papa talking, late at night when they think I¡¯m asleep. Papa¡¯s father and grandfather both died young, and I know he fears the same will happen to him¡ªthat he will leave Aze to care for Mama and me on his own, the way Grandfather left him. Somewhere beneath the anger, I know they¡¯re only doing what they think they must. But marriage is not my only option. If no one in Vallegat wants me, why must I settle for a man who can never know all of me? Why can¡¯t I choose a different path? ¡°You have more to say,¡± Mama says, reading my silence and guessing my mutinous thoughts. Oh, yes, I have more to say. But not now, not to her. Instead, I offer my other piece of news and resign myself to its reality. ¡°There¡¯s not enough room for all the soldiers to stay in the village. Their tenant has asked to spend the night here.¡± She looks at me, her dark eyes set deep in a face that is just beginning to wrinkle. Her hair, nearly as black as the shadows between the bookshelves, is pulled into a loose braid that hangs down her back. With a sigh, she sweeps her work into a pile and stacks it neatly to her left. ¡°Ieldran desires us to open our homes to those in need. Where is this tenant?¡± ¡°Outside with Aze.¡± ¡°Very well. Then we will prepare for supper.¡± Mama carries the lantern to the main room and sets it on the counter, directing me to the dairy room for cheese and butter. She slices the rest of the sour bread she baked yesterday and sets it on the table, then returns to the cupboard for a stack of bowls while I pour cups of mead. She sings while we work, slow songs unlike the lively tunes she usually prefers. The words are in Ielic, filling the room with soft gold and crimson hues that settle over me like the last light of sunset.
Remember me when you sail away, promises made under the stars, the summer wind that turned to rain and froze on the winter sea. Remember me, remember me.
The door opens as I plate the venison, and Tenant Gryfalkr knocks his boots against the door frame before entering the room. ¡°Your father has returned,¡± he tells me, his cheeks flushed with the cold and the exercise of stacking wood. ¡°Aze is helping him see to the sheep.¡± The herd will be hungry after their march to the creek, which Papa makes daily. We have several pregnant ewes, and it¡¯s important to make sure they stay well hydrated in these last few weeks before lambing. I want to go out and check on my favorites, Mynne and Stjere, but I won¡¯t leave Mama alone with the tenant. ¡°Mama,¡± I say, hoping I sound welcoming rather than resigned. ¡°This is Tenant Gryfalkr. Tenant, my mother, Ferina.¡± He dips his head in greeting. ¡°I am indebted to you,¡± he says. ¡°Your hospitality is a great blessing in my time of need.¡± ¡°Your presence honors us,¡± Mama says. If her voice is a little less iridescent than usual, at least the tenant won¡¯t notice. To anyone who doesn¡¯t know her, she is as dazzling and warm as ever. ¡°Please, have a seat. Supper is nearly finished.¡± To my surprise, Tenant Gryfalkr takes the chair to the right of Papa¡¯s seat at the head of the table. In Awnia, it¡¯s traditional for a guest to sit at the foot of the table, across from the host. I didn¡¯t expect him to follow Saani customs by sitting at the side of the table among the family. As Mama scoops the onions into a serving bowl, the door opens again to admit Aze and Papa. For a moment, silhouetted in the doorway, they are two identical shadows standing tall as pines in a field. Then Papa pulls off his hat, revealing the same thick white hair that covers my head, and rubs a hand over his snow-colored beard. He notes Tenant Gryfalkr¡¯s position at the table with an approving lift of his eyebrows and steps aside to remove his jacket. Aze kicks the snow off his boots and hangs his jacket by the door. ¡°Smells good,¡± he says, eyeing Mama carefully. Judging her mood, trying to see how excited he can be about the prospect of leaving. He catches my attention on him and wrinkles his nose, so I shove a stack of plates toward him. ¡°Make yourself useful and set these out.¡± Mama places the onions on the table and takes her seat across from Tenant Gryfalkr. I settle beside her and leave the foot of the table to Aze. ¡°This is a feast fit for the Grand General himself,¡± the tenant says, flashing a bright smile at Mama. Despite the blue mood which has clung to her all evening, she flushes with pleasure at his words. ¡°Pass the tenant some bread,¡± Mama says, gesturing to the plate at my elbow. Papa sits and cuts a slice of venison, which he adds to the tenant¡¯s plate. ¡°Forgive me, but you seem very young to be in command of an entire unit. When I fought in the Coastal Wars, all the officers were much older.¡± ¡°You are not the first to ask, though you are one of the most polite,¡± the tenant says. ¡°I achieved my rank the same way all young officers do.¡± Aze offers the bowl of butter to the tenant, his eyes bright in the firelight. ¡°You must be very skilled in battle.¡± Papa tries to hide his smirk with a bite of bread, but the tenant smiles openly. ¡°Skill has little to do with rank, unfortunately,¡± he says. His voice is gentle, self-depreciating without mocking Aze¡¯s naivete. ¡°Like every other officer who was too young to serve in any real conflict, I owe my rank to my father.¡± ¡°Not every tenant is given command of such a large group,¡± Papa says. ¡°There must be more to you than your father¡¯s influence, else you would be behind a desk in Bresne, not here among the new recruits.¡± I try and fail to picture the tenant sitting at a desk in Awnia¡¯s capital, bending over his papers the way Mama studies hers. Tenant Gryfalkr accepts Papa¡¯s compliment with a nod, his smile as pleasant as ever. ¡°You say you fought in the Coastal Wars,¡± he says. ¡°Where?¡± ¡°I served the fleet in Andred,¡± Papa says. ¡°Two years at the docks, then five aboard the Iceberg and three with the Queen Seryn before the battle off the coast of Arlis.¡± ¡°That was in Ielic waters,¡± the tenant says. ¡°The Queen Seryn was destroyed.¡± Papa nods. ¡°Those of us who survived were held in Arlis for fourteen months before King Anvarr made a prisoner exchange and brought us home. It¡¯s where I met Ferina.¡± ¡°You met as a prisoner of war?¡± the tenant says, leaning forward on his elbows. ¡°Please, I must hear the story.¡± Ivy green climbs up the trellis of his words, a testament to his interest, but I scowl and push my meat aimlessly across my plate. He¡¯s being too nice, too charming for a man who wants nothing in return. Oblivious, Papa reaches for Mama¡¯s hand and pulls it to his lips. ¡°The Ielic captain who captured us brought us to shore for questioning because he didn¡¯t speak Awnian. They called for a translator, but I and the other men pretended to only speak Saani. We thought they would try to get us to give up information about our mission, and we hoped to hide behind the language barrier. But the Ielic captain sent out again and found someone who spoke Saani as well.¡± ¡°Ferina,¡± Tenant Gryfalkr guesses. A soft, violet glow pulses through Papa¡¯s voice. ¡°Ferina. We were so surprised to hear an Ielic speaking Saani that we could hardly think. Before we knew what was happening, Ferina had tricked us into speaking Awnian, and the ruse was up. They would only use her as a translator after that, but we gave them no information.¡± ¡°It is what I admired about him,¡± Mama says, squeezing Papa¡¯s fingers. ¡°He tried to protect the others, but he was never bitter or hateful toward Captain Salis. The captain grew to like him as well, and after a time, their conversations turned away from war. They spoke of farming, of songs, of the sea. And when word from the king came, that Captain Salis was to sail to Andred to make the prisoner exchange, I convinced him to bring me along.¡± ¡°And then she stayed with me,¡± Papa says proudly. ¡°When the war ended, we returned to Vallegat and built the house, the farm, the herd. We built a life.¡± And in two days, everything they¡¯ve worked to build is going to change. Aze will be gone, and I will be with Bronhold¡¯s family, waiting for him to return to make me his wife. Everything I¡¯ve learned from Edlan will be tucked away like trunks in an attic. Like Mama¡¯s translating work, left to gather dust until the next fond story, to be held up like an old dress that doesn¡¯t fit anymore. Remember when I used to do what I loved? How the colors have faded! I can¡¯t remember the last time I thought about this. I pick at my bread and wait for the meal to end. Chapter Three ¡°Afiila.¡± An edge in Mama¡¯s voice says she¡¯s called for me already, but I was too lost in my thoughts to hear. I look up from the plate I¡¯d been scraping clean and blink at her. ¡°The bed,¡± Mama says, still sitting at the table with the others. I had started clearing the table when everyone finished eating, giving them more time to discuss Papa¡¯s time as a soldier, but it seems they¡¯re done now. ¡°The bed,¡± I echo. ¡°Yes. I will prepare a pallet for Tenant Gryfalkr before the fire.¡± Papa makes a coughing sound. ¡°The fire! No, we will not insult the tenant by making him sleep on the floor.¡± ¡°He can take my bed,¡± Aze says brightly. ¡°That is kind,¡± Mama says, glancing at Papa. ¡°But that would not be proper.¡± It certainly would not be. I share the loft with Aze, which Papa built as one open room to hold the heat. A curtain divides my part of the room from his, but that¡¯s not enough to separate me from a strange man overnight. ¡°I am perfectly happy to sleep beside the fire,¡± Tenant Gryfalkr says, but Papa shakes his head. ¡°You are our guest, and you will have a bed. I insist.¡± ¡°Then he can take my bed,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll go to Mjera¡¯s for the night.¡± ¡°What a wonderful idea,¡± Mama says. She turns back to the table, and I go back to my cleaning. At least it keeps my hands busy. The light from the fire pit emphasizes the raised scars on my palms, and I¡¯m glad to have my back to the rest of the room. Usually, I wear gloves to keep them covered, but I took them off to help Mama prepare the meal and forgot to put them back on. If the tenant noticed them, at least he hasn¡¯t said anything. ¡°Father has taught me to use the sword,¡± Aze is saying, his voice tinged with an orange glow of pride. ¡°Is that so?¡± Tenant Gryfalkr says. ¡°You should show me what you know. It¡¯s rare to find a recruit who can already fight. If you know the basics, I might be able to accelerate your training.¡± Aze shoots to his feet. ¡°There¡¯s a full moon tonight¡ªit will be plenty bright enough to see.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure the tenant is tired,¡± Papa says. ¡°Not at all,¡± Tenant Gryfalkr says. ¡°I like to exercise after dinner. Go and get your sword.¡± Aze hurries to the ladder leaning against the northwest corner of the room and climbs into the loft. His footsteps echo overhead as I drop the last of the table scraps into a bucket for our barn cat, Bear, and stack the plate with the others for Mama to wash in the creek tomorrow. When Aze slides back down the ladder, he nods at me and sets a bag on the table. ¡°I packed some clothes for you,¡± he says, then adds with hand signs, ¡°Don¡¯t look so put out. This is a good thing.¡± ¡°For you,¡± I sign back. He straps the sword belt Papa gave him around his hips. ¡°Everything will work out,¡± he signs. Then, at my scowl, he adds, ¡°Thanks for giving up your bed.¡± I didn¡¯t do it for him, but his obvious enthusiasm burns off some of my dour mood. If Aze is going to be a soldier, spending more time with his commanding officer could give him an advantage over the other recruits. Aze has always had an easy way of making friends, and if he can make a friend of Tenant Gryfalkr, I should be grateful to give him the opportunity. ¡°Good luck,¡± I tell him with my hands. I even try to offer a smile, which Aze accepts with a wink. ¡°I¡¯m going to miss you,¡± he signs, ruining the sentiment by using the word ¡°miss¡± as in failing to hit the mark instead of the sign for noticing the absence of something. Mama clears her throat to get our attention and signs, ¡°It¡¯s rude to use another language in front of our guest.¡± Aze grins and jogs toward the door. ¡°If you¡¯re ready, Tenant?¡± The tenant inclines his head to Papa and gives Mama a cheery smile before following Aze out the door. I open my bag and sort through the clothes Aze packed, which he did with surprising thoughtfulness. He really must be grateful. Or guilty. Either way, I don¡¯t have to climb the ladder to get my things. I move around the table and kiss Mama on the cheek. ¡°I¡¯ll go to the Kynstett from Mjera¡¯s in the morning,¡± I tell her, and she grips my hand and squeezes. I look at Papa over her head. ¡°Good night, Papa.¡± ¡°Good night,¡± he says. His gaze is on the door, but he flicks it back to me and offers a tight smile. ¡°Be careful.¡± I nod and take my jacket from beside Aze¡¯s empty hook, shouldering my bag over the top. Mjera¡¯s house isn¡¯t far, and I¡¯ve made the trip so often that I could do it without the moon, but I am grateful for the soft white light when I step outside. It shimmers on the banks of snow piled beside the walkway, which Aze has dutifully cleared all winter. One more chore that will fall to me when he leaves. ¡°So your name is Afiila?¡± I start, spinning to face Tenant Gryfalkr in the darkness. He holds up his hands in apology. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to frighten you.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t frighten me,¡± I say, scowling. ¡°I just didn¡¯t expect you to be standing there.¡± The tenant waves toward the barn. ¡°Aze went to get a lantern.¡± ¡°Ah.¡± I start to turn away again, but he stops me with another comment. ¡°Afiila is an Ielic name, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°It¡¯s just a nickname my mother uses.¡± ¡°So it¡¯s not your name.¡± ¡°If you must know it, you can ask Aze. He¡¯d be happy to tell you anything.¡± The tenant gives a pained smile and leans against the house. ¡°I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s too late to ask without appearing unbearably rude. How could I have spent the evening here and not know the name of my hostess?¡± ¡°My mother is your hostess,¡± I say. ¡°Well, perhaps you¡¯ll answer a different question instead,¡± the tenant says. I sigh and face him, crossing my arms impatiently. He smiles at my reaction. ¡°What can you tell me about Wordweaving?¡± Cold panic lances through me. I knew it. I knew there was something else, some other reason for singling me out. How long will it take Aze to find and light the lantern? If I can stall long enough, he¡¯ll return and distract the tenant again so I can escape to Mjera¡¯s. I resist the urge to glance at the barn. ¡°Why would I know anything about that?¡± ¡°I know that Wordweaving originated in the mountains,¡± the tenant says in the same mild tone. ¡°Right here in Phoenix Valley, if what I¡¯ve read is to be believed. I was hoping to learn more about it while I was here.¡± A tremor of relief pulls at the panic. He¡¯s not here for me¡ªjust information. ¡°Why not just talk to the fryrs? They would probably let you read the records.¡± ¡°I only have a day,¡± he reminds me. ¡°But as their apprentice, you must have read the histories. Perhaps you can explain them to me.¡± I furrow my brows at him. ¡°Why do you want to know?¡± ¡°Wordweavers have been used in war since the beginning of Awnia,¡± the tenant says. ¡°But they¡¯ve rarely made much difference in individual battles. I¡¯m hoping¡­¡± He trails off, hesitating, and I find myself stepping closer to hear the rest. His gaze locks on mine, more intense than at any other time during our brief acquaintance. More than his talks of battle with Papa, more than his meeting with Fryr Edlan and the rest of the council. Whatever he wants from this conversation, he wants it badly. ¡°What is the limit of a Wordweaver¡¯s power?¡± he asks at last. I swallow. ¡°It depends. All Wordweavers get their power from the Phoenix, so it depends how well they can harness and use it. Some can only channel a small amount, while others learn to control more at a time. The first Wordweaver in recorded history used it to build the city of Andred.¡± ¡°Vilden Phoenix-Hand,¡± the tenant answers. ¡°He helped settle Awnia with Eileifr Ryvenlock, the first king.¡± ¡°Yes. He made a sacrifice to the Phoenix in exchange for the power to save his friend¡¯s life.¡± ¡°His hand,¡± the tenant says. I nod. The Phoenix crippled Vilden¡¯s right hand, but in return, he was given the ability to Wordweave. I press my scarred hands tighter against my folded arms. ¡°Every Wordweaver must make a sacrifice,¡± I go on. ¡°It has to be on behalf of someone else, without the intention of gaining power for oneself. Most Wordweavers don¡¯t even realize they¡¯re making a sacrifice. They do something out of desperation to save a loved one, and the Phoenix takes a piece of them and gives its strength in return. Then, if they learn how to channel the energy, they become Wordweavers.¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. ¡°And if not?¡± the tenant asks. ¡°Then¡­ nothing. Some of them die, depending on how much of themselves they sacrifice.¡± ¡°And it is always men?¡± the tenant presses. ¡°There are no female Wordweavers?¡± The cold air raises goosebumps on my arms. ¡°According to the records,¡± I say. Obviously, I¡¯m not in the records. ¡°Surely women can also make sacrifices?¡± the tenant says. That intense look is still burning in his eyes, creasing the skin between his brows. I give what I hope is an unconcerned shrug. ¡°In theory. But none of them have ever survived their sacrifice. The only records the fryrs have of women channeling the Phoenix¡¯s power is during childbirth, and they never survive. Sometimes the power is transferred to the baby during birth, though those Wordweavers are generally weaker than the ones who make their own sacrifices.¡± The tenant shifts, revealing the snow-covered roof of the new lambing barn behind his shoulder. What¡¯s left of the old barn is buried a stone¡¯s throw from the house, though I wish it was farther away. I can still smell the smoke on hot days, thick as water in my throat, pouring into my lungs as I begged for the Phoenix¡¯s protection. It¡¯s one reason I¡¯ve always preferred winter. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say, shaking my head and turning back to the path. I should have known better than to try to talk about this¡ªit¡¯s too close, too dangerous. ¡°I¡¯m keeping you from Aze. I should¡ª¡± He steps closer and sets a hand on my arm. ¡°Wait, please. Just one more question.¡± I still under his touch, holding myself like a deer watching a wolf. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°In battle,¡± he says, urgently, as though the question will consume him if I don¡¯t answer quickly enough. ¡°What are the limits of a Wordweaver¡¯s power? If it were fully realized, used remorselessly¡ªwhat could such a person do?¡± His words are a careful mask of dull blue, betraying a surface level of curiosity, but nothing underneath. I narrow my eyes and pull away from his hand. ¡°Wordweavers aren¡¯t as dangerous as you think. It takes a tremendous amount of energy, and using up too much at once could be fatal. They would tire quickly, and certainly wouldn¡¯t last throughout a long battle. And they have to be touching the thing they Wordweave, so even if they had enough power to kill directly, they would have to be in physical contact with their victim the whole time, and they could only do it one person at a time. How often does someone get uninterrupted access to a person who isn¡¯t fighting back in the middle of a battle?¡± ¡°Not often,¡± the tenant admits. ¡°It¡¯s why I was hoping to reevaluate their use.¡± ¡°Then...¡± I clamp my mouth shut. I hadn¡¯t meant to continue, but the word slipped out before I could catch it. Tenant Gryfalkr waits, impatient. ¡°Then?¡± ¡°Well... a Wordweaver could still be useful in battle.¡± I take a small breath and push on. ¡°As a healer.¡± His eyebrows lift over his dark eyes. ¡°Historically, they haven¡¯t been used in that way. Wordweavers seem to have more talent for destruction than repair.¡± I bristle at the word used, as if we¡¯re just tools for his war game. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t have to be that way. They could protect and heal rather than destroy.¡± ¡°They could.¡± Something kindles in my mind, something small and bright and hopeful. ¡°If they did,¡± I say slowly. ¡°If they could be healers instead of fighters, maybe¡ª¡± ¡°Got it!¡± Aze calls. He hurries toward us, a burning lantern held high. When he gets closer, he cuts a sharp look in my direction and signs, ¡°What are you doing?¡± with his free hand. ¡°Talking,¡± I answer silently. He hands the lantern to Tenant Gryfalkr and opens his arms to me. ¡°A hug goodbye,¡± he says out loud. ¡°I know how much you¡¯ll miss me.¡± He crushes me to him, bending low to put his mouth against my ear. ¡°What¡¯s the matter with you? Were you really going to tell him about your¡ªyou know?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not stupid,¡± I hiss, squeezing him back a little tighter than necessary. ¡°You were eavesdropping?¡± ¡°Of course I was. How long do you think it takes to get a lantern?¡± He releases me and leans back to straighten my scarf. He¡¯s only a couple of inches shorter than Tenant Gryfalkr, and I have to crane my neck back to see his face. ¡°Why?¡± I whisper. He hitches one shoulder. ¡°I was hoping you¡¯d feel better about this all if you could talk to the tenant.¡± Maybe I do, but not for the reason he thinks. I squeeze Aze¡¯s arms and step, once more, onto the path. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to your sparring,¡± I say, leaning around him to meet Tenant Gryfalkr¡¯s gaze. ¡°Good night.¡± ¡°Good night,¡± the tenant says. Aze watches me until I reach the road, then turns and draws his sword to face the tenant. *** I arrive at Mjera¡¯s house in a tangled mood. The walk was not long enough to sort out the threads of thought tumbling around in my head, and when I rap my knuckles against the heavy door, I still don¡¯t know what expression to present to whoever opens it. The clatter of boots warns me it will not be Mjera, so I summon a smile as the door creaks open to reveal her youngest brother, Tomsu. ¡°Mjera¡¯s in the barn,¡± he says, tugging down the sleeves of his oversized shirt. It used to be Arun¡¯s¡ªI helped Mjera embroider a row of bears along the hem when he turned eleven¡ªand Tomsu has always admired it. I reach out to ruffle the boy¡¯s hair. He celebrated his tenth birthday a few weeks ago, but I can still see him as the toddler who used to bring me wildflowers. ¡°Is your mama inside?¡± I ask. Tomsu nods and steps back to let me enter. His mother, Aaste, looks up at me from a stool before the fire pit. Arun sits on the floor beside her, winding a tangle of yarn into a ball while she knits. Across the room, Aaste¡¯s mother, Sariruuse, rocks on a chair that is older than she is. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to come over uninvited,¡± I say in Saani. Sariruuse comes from one of the last nomadic tribes still herding reindeer in the mountains, and though she understands Awnian, she is more comfortable speaking in her native language. At Mjera¡¯s house, most of our conversations are in Saani. ¡°You¡¯ve heard about the soldiers in the village?¡± ¡°Arun brought us the news,¡± Aaste says, glancing at her oldest son. Her voice is a heavy, sodden indigo, the color of clouds before the rain. ¡°There isn¡¯t enough room for all the soldiers,¡± I say apologetically. ¡°We offered my bed to their tenant. Can I sleep here tonight?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Aaste says. Their roof isn¡¯t as well ventilated as ours, and the smoke from the fire pit curls around the low rafters. ¡°Mjera will be back shortly. She¡¯s finishing a few chores.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll help her.¡± I flee the smoky room and the sadness gathered within it, breathing in the cold air as I jog to the barn. The door is ajar, and soft lantern light spills out onto the snow. ¡°Mjera?¡± I call, setting my hand on the door. She looks up from her work of spreading fresh hay into the pigpens. ¡°Is something wrong?¡± she asks, icy blue anxiety spiking through her words. ¡°No,¡± I say quickly. Ever since her father¡¯s accident last year, she anticipates bad news with any unexpected arrival. She relaxes, and I step into the barn and pick up a handful of hay to help her. ¡°Nothing¡¯s wrong, unless you count the soldiers.¡± Mjera turns back to the pigs, her golden-white braids swaying with the movement. She¡¯d spoken Awnian when I first came into the barn, but now she slips back into Saani. ¡°Arun said he¡¯ll be the one to go for our family, and Mama¡¯s been crying all evening. Tomsu too. I tried telling them that the army couldn¡¯t possibly want a child so young, but they won¡¯t listen.¡± ¡°My father gave Aze permission to go,¡± I say. ¡°They leave the day after tomorrow.¡± ¡°What are we going to do?¡± A tremor of desperation runs through her voice, but she still won¡¯t look at me. ¡°If anything happens to them¡­¡± She gives a sudden, violent kick to the pen, and the pigs inside snort in surprise. ¡°It isn¡¯t fair! Why do they need to take our men? We don¡¯t have any problems with Ieli. Let the lowland men serve if there really is a war.¡± The pigs snuffle through the clean straw, and Mjera brushes a hand along the nearest one¡¯s back in apology. I bump my shoulder against hers. ¡°I talked to their leader. Actually, that¡¯s why I¡¯m here. He¡¯s staying at my house because there isn¡¯t enough room for him in town.¡± Mjera¡¯s gray eyes widen. ¡°What did he say?¡± ¡°Nothing helpful. That this is the way things are, and there¡¯s nothing we can do to change them. My parents said the same. Aze is old enough to make his own decisions. And¡­¡± I hesitate, but Mjera watches me expectantly. ¡°They¡¯ve decided about me, too.¡± Her face falls. ¡°Bronhold?¡± I nod miserably. ¡°Even when he¡¯s about to leave?¡± ¡°My mother said everything¡¯s been arranged. I¡¯m to move into Bronhold¡¯s house when the soldiers leave.¡± Mjera throws her arms around me. ¡°That won¡¯t happen. You can live with us if you have to leave your house.¡± But it¡¯s more than that, and we both know it. When an engagement is made, the bride joins the groom¡¯s house until the wedding. There she learns to fit in with her new family, how to take over the running of a household, how to manage her new husband. Then after the wedding they move into a new house to begin their life together. But how long will it be before Bronhold returns? Months? Years? What if he never returns, and I waste my life waiting for something that will never happen? Mjera leans back and rests her hands on my shoulders. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry. I wish you could find someone like Sovlin.¡± My stomach flips as a new thought occurs to me. ¡°Sovlin isn¡¯t leaving, is he?¡± ¡°Thank the Phoenix, no. His older brother is going.¡± Good. Mjera and Sovlin¡¯s official betrothal was postponed because of her father¡¯s death, but they¡¯ve been courting for over a year. If he left her too, I¡¯m not sure Mjera would recover. And if anything were to happen to Arun¡­ I throw another handful of hay into the pen. ¡°What if Arun didn¡¯t have to go?¡± ¡°Do you think they would make an exception?¡± Mjera asks. ¡°No, but¡­¡± I trail off, unable to voice the thought that has only half-developed in my mind. If I keep it there, safe and unfinished, it can remain a daring and impossible thing. Once I speak it, there will be no going back. I meet her gaze. ¡°What if someone takes Arun¡¯s place?¡± ¡°But who would...?¡± She snaps her mouth shut and stares at me, her gaze darting across my face as she reads my intentions. ¡°No.¡± ¡°It would save Arun.¡± ¡°No!¡± She turns away, shaking her head, and then spins back to face me. ¡°We¡¯ll find another way.¡± ¡°Another way that solves both of our problems?¡± I say. ¡°I finish my apprenticeship in a couple of months. What then? I can¡¯t be a healer, and if I marry Bronhold, I won¡¯t even be able to work as a midwife. There¡¯s no future for me here. I would have to leave anyway, and this way, Arun won¡¯t have to.¡± ¡°They won¡¯t take a woman as a soldier,¡± Mjera says, exasperated. ¡°I¡¯ll disguise myself.¡± ¡°Ynria.¡± She sets her hands on my shoulders and gives me a long, level look. ¡°This isn¡¯t something you can come back from. Do you really want to be a soldier?¡± ¡°I want to be a healer,¡± I say. I wish she could hear the wine-red wanting in my voice, or feel the cold dread that creeps in whenever I think of a life without my work. ¡°If I can¡¯t do it here, I can do it with the army. And then I can watch over Aze.¡± She opens her mouth, shuts it, and lets go of me. ¡°You would really do this?¡± I don¡¯t know. Leaving the valley has always been a familiar daydream, something to think about whenever the threat of a future with Bronhold felt too realistic. I thought I had more time. I thought I¡¯d be able to convince Papa not to go through with it. I thought there would be some way to stay with Edlan, to continue my work. Now that possibility is gone, and I... I don¡¯t know what to do, but I know I can¡¯t just sit here and wait to marry a man who will never understand me. I give her a single, sharp nod. ¡°Yes. If it will save Arun and give me a chance to be a healer, then yes. Will you help me?¡± Her pause is longer than mine. I give her time with her thoughts by pitching the rest of the straw into the pigpen and then scratching their bristly backs, trying not to watch the emotions play across Mjera¡¯s face. When her eyes well up with tears, I reach out for her hands and press them between mine. ¡°I will do this with or without you,¡± I say quietly. ¡°It¡¯s my choice, and I¡¯ve made it. You are not responsible for my fate.¡± The tears spill over, running in tiny rivulets down her red cheeks. ¡°I don¡¯t want you to go,¡± she whispers. I pull her into a tight hug. ¡°I¡¯ll come back,¡± I say. ¡°After the army sees what a gifted healer I am, I¡¯ll set up my own practice in the lowlands. Once that¡¯s established, I¡¯ll come back to meet all of your babies.¡± A wet laugh bursts out of her, and she leans back so I can see her face. ¡°I will help you. Of course I will help you.¡± I give her another hug, soaking in the honey and herb scent of her soap, the warmth of the barn, and the feeling of her arms around me. Then I pull back and squeeze her arms. ¡°Then we have a lot of work to do before tomorrow night.¡± Chapter Four Neither of us gets any sleep that night. We trade ideas for several hours, until Tomsu comes in to tell us they¡¯re going to bed and that we need to come inside if we don¡¯t want to sleep in the barn. I curl up on a bedroll in the main room between Mjera and her grandmother¡ªtheir house doesn¡¯t have bedrooms¡ªand spend the rest of the night hand signing with Mjera in the firelight. By the time morning dawns, I am exhausted and aching to sleep. But we have a plan. Aaste insists on feeding me breakfast before I go, so I accept a bowl of creamy skyr, oats, and dried fruit. Arun is quiet during the meal, keeping his eyes on his bowl while Tomsu asks about Tenant Gryfalkr and the other soldiers. I give him as little information as I can, trying to reassure Arun, Aaste, and Sariruuse without giving away our plan. I stand to help clean up when we¡¯ve finished, but Mjera declines my offer to help with her morning chores. ¡°You have plenty to prepare,¡± she reminds me. ¡°Go. I¡¯ll see you tonight.¡± She¡¯s right, so I don¡¯t argue; I simply thank Aaste for the meal and hurry into town. The bag Aze packed has everything I need, which means I can avoid Bronhold and his promise to walk me to work this morning. I¡¯ll have to make sure I thank Aze for this thoughtfulness when I get home. Especially since I¡¯m going to make things more difficult for him tomorrow. When I enter the Kynstett, I find thirty soldiers still asleep on their cots and bedrolls in the hall. Fryr Edlan is there as well, and he waves me over before I can avoid him. ¡°Go help Fraen Hessa at the inn,¡± he tells me with his hands, his eyes never leaving the soldiers. ¡°The men will need something to eat.¡± ¡°How are they paying for the meals?¡± I sign, knowing Fraen Hessa will have the same question. Edlan scowls. ¡°Tenant Gryfalkr says they will not be paying. Eating what¡¯s left of our winter supplies is apparently their due for protecting us.¡± Then he must have come to town already. If the tenant were nearby at this moment, I would tell him exactly what I think of his protection. But there¡¯s nothing for it¡ªmy preparations will have to wait. I bring Fraen Hessa the news and endure her storm-violet fury, wishing all the time Edlan had sent Hallis instead. ¡°They do not pay for their rooms,¡± she rages, gesturing violently with the knife she was using to slice bread. ¡°They do not pay for their meals. What good are they?¡± I try not to be impatient with her, but it¡¯s hard not to grudge the time I¡¯m losing. ¡°I¡¯m as frustrated as you are, Fraen,¡± I say when she pauses for breath. ¡°But the men from Norwikk have done nothing wrong. They, at least, deserve to eat.¡± The pinched expression on her face eases. ¡°Yes,¡± she says. ¡°I suppose they do.¡± She says nothing else on the subject except to direct me around the kitchen as we prepare the meals. When the first of the soldiers trickle in, she even apologizes for yelling at me. ¡°It¡¯s no trouble, Fraen,¡± I say. ¡°We are all upset.¡± She gives my arm a squeeze and sends me out into the common room with a tray filled with barley porridge and bread. I serve the men wordlessly, and they accept the food without thanks. On my third trip from the kitchen, I find Tenant Gryfalkr shepherding the last of his men into the room, pausing to count the group before taking a seat at an empty table near the door. Perhaps the morning won¡¯t be a waste after all. If I can¡¯t prepare my supplies, at least I might get some information. I make my way to him, setting down bowls as I go, and place the last on the table in front of him. He looks up at me and smiles. ¡°Fraela Solln. Fryr¡¯s apprentice, shepherdess, and tavern maid. Is there anything you don¡¯t do?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a small village, Tenant. We all help out where we can.¡± ¡°So I see.¡± I set my empty tray on the table and take a seat opposite him. ¡°I have some questions,¡± I begin, folding my hands in my lap. ¡°And it¡¯s only fair you answer them, since you will not be paying for your meal.¡± The corners of his lips twitch up in a way I might have found attractive if I wasn¡¯t so angry. ¡°Fair enough,¡± he says. ¡°What are your questions?¡± ¡°How many other villages have you gone to for men?¡± ¡°Me personally?¡± he asks. ¡°This is the fourth.¡± ¡°How many men have you taken in total?¡± He pauses. ¡°Perhaps five hundred.¡± ¡°How do you know how many men each village can offer?¡± ¡°We use records from the last census,¡± he says. ¡°Each village is required to submit one to the capital every ten years.¡± ¡°And how many years ago was the last census taken?¡± I press. ¡°What if the numbers are no longer accurate?¡± I know the answer to this already, having helped the fryrs count the families a few years ago when we were given notice of the census order. Tenant Gryfalkr tilts his head, his eyes turning up toward the ceiling as he thinks. ¡°I believe four years ago,¡± he answers after a moment. ¡°The records are not exact, but they¡¯re close enough to the numbers we need.¡± Then they have no way of knowing that Mjera¡¯s father will still be on the record. I stand, picking up the tray and looking down at the tenant. ¡°Your men are welcome to whatever they would like to drink,¡± I say in a cool voice. ¡°As long as they pay for it. Food is one thing, but you can¡¯t bully us into giving you free ale.¡± ¡°Wait,¡± the tenant says. I stop, but he doesn¡¯t speak. His gaze roves over my face and settles at the scar peeking past the collar of my shirt. I pull my scarf back up to cover it. ¡°What?¡± ¡°You¡¯re wearing gloves,¡± he says. ¡°It¡¯s winter.¡± ¡°But you wear them inside.¡± ¡°Many apothecaries wear gloves,¡± I say. ¡°We often handle poisonous plants, and it¡¯s better not to let them come in contact with the skin.¡± He rubs his chin as if considering my words, then gestures for me to sit. ¡°Have you eaten?¡± I blow an impatient breath through my nose. ¡°I have work to do, and joining you would keep me from it.¡± ¡°Many girls would be flattered by a tenant¡¯s attention,¡± he says, leaning back in his chair. ¡°Then go and find one of them to bother.¡± A short laugh bursts from his lips. ¡°Very well, then, the truth. My rank often creates distance between me and other people. It can be¡­ lonely. And I find you easy to talk to.¡± Something like pity stirs at the bright, vulnerable red in his words, but my irritation swallows it back up. ¡°Then why do this?¡± ¡°Do what?¡± ¡°Be a tenant,¡± I say. ¡°A soldier. You admit that what you¡¯re doing is unfair, that you wish you could change it, that you¡¯re unhappy with the consequences of your rank¡ªwhy not just do something else?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not so easy to change the course of a life,¡± he says. ¡°It is for a man,¡± I say, unable to keep the scowl off my face. ¡°Every path is open to you. You can be whatever you want, go wherever you want, do whatever you want. Any limitations you have are the ones you accept for yourself.¡± The tenant leans forward, his chin tipped up to look at me. ¡°And what would you do,¡± he says softly. ¡°If these paths were open to you?¡± I meet his gaze without flinching. ¡°Everything.¡± His eyes stay on me, as blue as his voice, as unreadable as a storm. When he doesn¡¯t speak, I pull the empty tray against my chest and turn away. ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me.¡± His fingers brush my arm, but he doesn¡¯t stop me. ¡°You¡¯ll be returning to your home tonight?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± He sets his hand on the table. ¡°I will find my own way back, then, so you needn¡¯t wait for me. Thank you, Fraela Solln.¡± *** When I return to the Kynstett, I go in through a side entrance to avoid being sent on another errand. The wooden frame shrinks during the winter, preventing the door from latching properly. I have to dig some of the drifted snow out from around the doorjamb before I can coax it open, proving it¡¯s had even less use than I¡¯d thought. A swirl of loose snow dusts the floor as I squeeze inside and drag the door closed behind me, pitching the entryway into darkness. Finally, I am alone. I rip off my glove and send a pulse of energy to my fingertips, savoring the rising wave of heat and power that swells up my throat. ¡°Fire,¡± I whisper. The taste of cinnamon crackles over my tongue, and I lick my lips reflexively. Golden light flutters to life in my palm, and a tiny flame sparks up in its wake. It barely warms my skin, fed by the energy I siphon to it. As long as I focus on channeling the power, it can¡¯t burn me. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. I relish in the silence and my secret little light before making my way through the stone hallway. There shouldn¡¯t be anyone else in these halls, but I keep my free hand ready to cup around my fire in case I run into anyone. The fryrs are most likely in their studies, or else convening with Edlan about what we will do with so many men missing. There will have to be a support system set up for the families who will be most affected, and the fryrs love nothing more than to organize and plan. At last the light from a window appears ahead, and I cut off my connection to the fire and watch it wisp into smoke. By the natural light, I find my way to the storeroom where Fryr Edlan dries his herbs. The door is unlocked, so I ease it open and step inside the familiar little room. A long wooden table with two chairs stands beneath strings of hanging herbs, each clump labeled in Edlan¡¯s scrawling hand. Behind the table, a wall of shelves holds the salves, tinctures, and powders along with the extra tools Edlan keeps in storage. I pick my way through the supplies, filling my bag with vials and jars. I have a few salves at home that I will add as well, along with bandages and a pair of scissors, a sewing kit... what else? I wish I¡¯d been able to write down the list Mjera and I discussed last night¡ªor was it this morning?¡ªbut I¡¯ll have to make do with what I can remember. Oak galls. Can¡¯t forget the oak galls. I add a jar of the plant growths to my bag and retreat down the hallway to the side door. Carefully, I tuck my bag into the shadows where no one will stumble on it, then hurry back to the main hall to finish the day¡¯s chores. *** As evening descends on my valley, I make my way from the side door of the Kynstett with my bag hanging from one shoulder. I worked longer than necessary tonight, finishing every task Edlan might need over the next week, and hating that I don¡¯t have time to do more. Mjera will go to him tomorrow to deliver the letter I¡¯ve written, thanking him for his guidance and discretion over the years, but it isn¡¯t enough. I wish I could give him a real goodbye. A pit settles in my stomach as I turn my back on the tower. The village streets are empty, and the buildings stand like silent sentries in the lengthening shadows. Most of the villagers are already home, gathering for one last night with their loved ones. I keep my eyes on the ground before my feet and make a list of the things I still need to pack. Three sets of fresh footprints precede me to my door. Tenant Gryfalkr must have found his way back, then, and Papa and Aze have returned with the sheep. I push open the door, hiding my bulky bag behind my arm. ¡°Aze?¡± I say, anticipating his presence in the main room. ¡°I need to¡ª¡± I freeze mid-step. ¡°Good evening, dearest,¡± says Bronhold, pushing back the chair he¡¯d been sitting on and shooting to his feet. Aze and Tenant Gryfalkr look up as I enter but keep their seats at the table, sitting side by side across from Bronhold. Mama must be in the study, and Papa in the barn or still with the herd, which means it falls on me as the eldest to act as hostess. ¡°Bronhold,¡± I say in a deflated voice, closing the door behind me. ¡°What can we do for you?¡± A wide smile spreads across Bronhold¡¯s face. ¡°I came to speak to you,¡± he says. ¡°I wanted to ensure your confidence in our future before I leave tomorrow.¡± I take a breath to relax my shoulders. ¡°You have so much to worry about tonight. There was no need to come all this way.¡± ¡°And to help you gather your things,¡± Bronhold goes on. ¡°I have already cleared out my room to make space for you.¡± My eyes dart to Tenant Gryfalkr, then back to my betrothed. ¡°We should speak in private.¡± ¡°There¡¯s no need,¡± Bronhold says cheerfully. ¡°The tenant and I are acquainted, and Aze will soon be my brother. You can speak freely in front of them.¡± ¡°Very well.¡± I curl my fingers at my sides, rubbing the smooth fabric of my gloves. ¡°I can¡¯t marry you. Whatever our parents have agreed, I can¡¯t go through with it. I¡¯m sorry you¡¯ve wasted your time, but if you¡¯d spoken to me first, I¡ª¡± To my mingled surprise and frustration, Bronhold turns to Aze and laughs. ¡°She¡¯s so spirited!¡± he says. ¡°Most men think of an outspoken wife as a curse, but I find it endearing.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t talk about me as if I¡¯m not standing right here,¡± I snap. ¡°This is as much my decision as it is yours, and I will not consent.¡± ¡°Listen to her,¡± Aze says quietly, frowning at Bronhold. ¡°You don¡¯t know how stubborn she is. If she says she won¡¯t marry you, then it isn¡¯t going to happen.¡± Bronhold claps a heavy hand on Aze¡¯s shoulder. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. She will come to love me as I love her once I return. I only came to soothe her¡ª¡± He stops and smiles indulgently at me. ¡°Your fears, because I don¡¯t want you to worry about your future.¡± His eyes bore into mine, large and pale and earnest. ¡°I will be a good husband. You have nothing to fear.¡± ¡°You should go,¡± I say. His smile never wavers as he turns to Tenant Gryfalkr and makes a clumsy salute. ¡°I am grateful for the opportunity to serve,¡± he says. The tenant inclines his head, and Bronhold turns back to me. ¡°One more thing,¡± he says. The smile fades slightly, and a streak of deep blue cuts through his words. ¡°I know you must be worried, so I swear to you that I will watch over Aze. When we go into battle, I will protect him with my life. You have my word.¡± His sincerity softens some of my irritation. ¡°That¡¯s kind of you,¡± I say. ¡°I know you will make some other girl very happy. But I can¡¯t accept¡ª¡± ¡°I will do this for you,¡± he interrupts, reaching for my hand. ¡°Whatever your feelings may be. My promise is not reliant on your acceptance.¡± My mouth opens, but I can¡¯t think of anything to say. It would be grand and romantic, I suppose, coming from someone else¡ªor directed to someone else. ¡°Bronhold,¡± I manage, but he only shakes his head and moves past me to the door. ¡°I¡¯ll see you tomorrow,¡± he tells Aze, who nods in response. Then he smiles at me again, his eyes crinkling in the corners, and brushes past me into the night. Aze watches him go, a smile twisting up one side of his face. ¡°He really isn¡¯t so bad,¡± he says. ¡°Then you can marry him.¡± I sweep past the table, hoping the darkness will hide the flush of embarrassment and frustration on my face. Aze jumps to his feet and follows me to the loft ladder. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be so harsh with him,¡± he says quietly. ¡°He means well.¡± ¡°Except that he won¡¯t listen to me, constantly ignores my wishes, and treats me as though I¡¯m incapable of thinking for myself.¡± ¡°Except that.¡± ¡°Whatever else he may be, I could never love him for that.¡± ¡°Who else is there?¡± Aze asks. ¡°And who will be left after tomorrow?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have to marry.¡± ¡°Well,¡± Aze shrugs. ¡°You¡¯re not living with me when I return from the war.¡± ¡°Where are you going to live? You have a house I don¡¯t know about?¡± ¡°Father said I am to have the lower pastureland when I return,¡± he says. ¡°Then you are welcome to it,¡± I say, setting my hands on the ladder. ¡°I don¡¯t have to live with you, either. I can take care of myself.¡± Aze furrows his dark brows. ¡°I never said you couldn¡¯t.¡± I sigh, turning back to face him. Despite the Ielic traits he inherited from Mama, he looks so much like a fully grown Saani man, bred for hardship and perseverance. I have always had Mama¡¯s short stature, and as I measure my brother¡¯s height against mine, doubt worms through me. How can I ever hope to pull this off? ¡°Do you really want to be a soldier?¡± I whisper. His eyes dart toward the tenant, who again waits in patient, willful ignorance of our conversation. ¡°Yes. That is, I want to go. I already know how to fight, so being a soldier makes sense, doesn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°What about the sheep?¡± I ask. ¡°Don¡¯t you like being a shepherd?¡± Aze hitches one shoulder. ¡°I do. But I can always come back to that when the war is over.¡± And if you don¡¯t? I can¡¯t voice the thought, no matter how sharply it stings my tongue. I don¡¯t want to think about it¡ªespecially since I¡¯m about to take the same risk. I could die just as easily. Somehow, that possibility hadn¡¯t occurred to me until now. I¡¯ll try to enlist as a healer rather than a soldier, but anyone on a battlefield faces danger. How can I lecture Aze on his lack of caution when the same unreasonable feeling of immunity has blinded me? The firelight throws a golden gloss over Aze¡¯s black hair, making the flash of his teeth stand out even brighter as he smiles. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± he says, patting my arm. ¡°I¡¯ll be careful.¡± Yes. I¡¯ll make sure of that. I elbow him in the ribs and nod back to the table. ¡°Go back to the tenant. I¡¯ll be back down in a moment.¡± He goes, and I climb into the loft to pack. When Papa returns, we sit down to a meal that is mostly comprised of last night¡¯s leftovers. Mama baked a new loaf of bread to replace the one we finished last night, and she asks me to brew a pot of pine tea after supper, but otherwise it is nearly identical. Papa speaks of his time as a sailor, Tenant Gryfalkr compliments Mama, and Aze hangs on every word. I try to savor the evening, but a restless anxiety buzzes beneath my skin. I bounce my legs beneath the table, alternately wishing the meal would go on forever and willing it to end as soon as possible. I finish before the others and spend the next hour cleaning everything I can think of while Papa, Aze, and Tenant Gryfalkr drink their tea and warmed mead at the table. Mama comes to help when she finishes supper, but I tell her to go back to enjoy the time with Aze. ¡°My hands need something to do,¡± I say when she hesitates. She takes my bare fingers in hers and squeezes. ¡°Bless the work that keeps us busy,¡± she says in Ielic. I kiss her cheek and send her back to the table while I try to wash away the dust and the guilt. ¡°It¡¯s late,¡± Papa says at last, bringing me his empty cup and setting his hand on mine. ¡°You should get going. You don¡¯t want to make Mjera¡¯s family wait up for you.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll just finish this,¡± I say, but Mama stands and gives me a tired smile. ¡°Go, afiila. I will finish.¡± Swallowing, I turn to Aze and open my arms. He ducks in to give me a quick, tight squeeze, lifting me from my feet the way he used to do when he first grew taller than me. ¡°I won¡¯t be back in the morning,¡± I tell him. ¡°But I¡¯ll say goodbye in town before you leave.¡± ¡°Take care of yourself,¡± he says. I nod into his shoulder. ¡°You too.¡± ¡°And don¡¯t worry,¡± he adds. ¡°I¡¯ll keep an eye on Bronhold for you.¡± He pulls away, and I kick at his legs as he dodges back toward the table. Tenant Gryfalkr is on his feet, watching me through the firelight as I retrieve my bag from beside the door. ¡°Good night,¡± I say into the room, willing my voice to sound natural. My parents bid me good night, and I suck in a breath and turn back to the door. ¡°Wait.¡± Tenant Gryfalkr appears at my side, reaching for the handle and opening the door before me. ¡°I will walk you to the road. I¡¯d like to thank you for offering your home before you go.¡± I glance into the room. ¡°There¡¯s no need, Tenant. I am happy to offer whatever I have to the Awnian army.¡± My words are thick with sarcasm, and the tenant fights a smile as he hands me my scarf and gloves. ¡°I insist.¡± I flash a look at Aze, who has paused beside the loft ladder, and he nods once. He¡¯s interrupted long, undesired goodbyes with Bronhold before, so I know he gets the message, but he waves to the door and signs, ¡°I¡¯ll be out in a couple of minutes. Let him say goodbye.¡± Clenching my jaw, I take one last moment to memorize my home before letting Tenant Gryfalkr usher me into the cold. ¡°Is something the matter?¡± he asks as soon as the door is closed. ¡°Nothing.¡± ¡°You seem¡­ off.¡± I glance at him and hurry toward the road. ¡°You don¡¯t know me well enough to know when I am off, Tenant.¡± ¡°Perhaps not,¡± he says. ¡°Call it intuition, then.¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± He holds out a hand, gesturing back at himself and grinning. ¡°Come now. If you can¡¯t confide in a stranger you barely know, who can you confide in?¡± ¡°I¡¯m just worried about tomorrow.¡± He doesn¡¯t answer right away, and I find myself looking up at him in spite of myself. ¡°I know you don¡¯t believe me,¡± he says at last. ¡°But I do wish there was another way.¡± ¡°So do I,¡± I say. The white of his hair gleams in the moonlight, framing his face like snow around a mountain pass. He look so much like a Saani, like a man who has spent his life in the cold and the fellowship of the valley. If his ancestors had stayed in the mountains, he could have been a neighbor. What might that have been like? If I had known him as a villager instead of a soldier, would I have been able to look at him without anger? Maybe even friendship? ¡°Take care of yourself, Tenant,¡± I say as we reach the road. I offer him my hand, palm out instead of down, the way men shake. He takes it, smiling. ¡°I will. And I will take care of Aze, and...¡± He hesitates, gripping my hand tighter. ¡°And the rest of the men in my command. I will honor the sacrifices of their families, and I will return them home as soon as I can.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± I say, softening. For a moment he is still, holding my hand and studying my face as though searching for something in the shadows on my skin. I wait, resisting the urge to squirm under his attention. How good will his memory be against my new appearance? I can¡¯t imagine he will have much cause to study each of his soldiers this closely, but I would feel better if I knew he was going to forget me as soon as I walked away. ¡°Goodbye, Tenant,¡± I say gently, unable to take the silence any longer. He opens his mouth, closes it, and then releases me. ¡°Goodbye. And thank you.¡± I offer him a small, final smile and turn back to the road. His gaze burns into my back as I make my way toward Mjera¡¯s, but I don¡¯t look back. I can¡¯t. I want my last glimpse of my house to be the one I took before I left: warm firelight, clean dishes, and my family wishing me good night. Chapter Five The next morning, I wake before dawn and lie in the darkness, listening to Mjera¡¯s quiet breathing at my shoulder. It should be a peaceful moment, but my stomach twists in restless knots, and after a few minutes I get up and stir the coals before adding more wood to the flames. ¡°Ynria?¡± I look over my shoulder at Mjera, who lifts her head and blinks blearily at me. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for waking you,¡± I whisper, brushing bark off my hands. She rubs her eyes and stifles a yawn. ¡°Is it time?¡± It is for me. It will be a while before her family wakes, but I can¡¯t stand the thought of waiting any longer. ¡°I¡¯m going to go,¡± I say in a low voice. ¡°Tell your mother I¡¯m sorry for leaving without saying goodbye.¡± ¡°She won¡¯t mind,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯ll be along as soon as I can.¡± I leave the comfortable glow of the fire and pad across the room to pull on my boots and jacket. As silently as possible, I open the door and ease out into the cold, filling my lungs with the clear, cold air. I pause, taking in the stillness of the morning. This is all I wished for two days ago, when Bronhold came to walk me to town. It feels like a lifetime ago now. Wrapped in gray light and pre-dawn chill, I hurry across the field to the meeting place Mjera and I set during our planning in the barn. Her family¡¯s lands run parallel to the road leading into Vallegat, but I follow the thin, iced-over creek to avoid anyone making their way to town. Before long, the silhouette of the tiny hut appears against the snow, and I jog the rest of the way to burn some of my restless energy. I use the shovel leaning against the wall to dig away the snow blocking the door, trying to take my time so I don¡¯t end up with nothing to do while I wait. The work warms me, and by the time I finish, I feel a little more settled. ¡°Fire,¡± I say, pushing a burst of energy into the lantern hanging inside the hut. Pale light filters through the room, illuminating the bare bunk and small table taking up most of the space. The building has stood empty for more than a year, unused since Mjera¡¯s father died. Before that, it served as a place to sleep while his herd was at pasture in the summer. It¡¯s a snug little hut, built of fieldstone and packed tight with turf for insulation, but there¡¯s no place to start a fire. That¡¯s fine¡ªI won¡¯t be here long. I leave the door open to let in more of the light and drop my bag on the table, digging out a pair of Aze¡¯s old trousers and one of the two wool shirts I took from his trunk. He outgrew them ages ago, and I¡¯ve spent the last several months telling him he should give them to Arun. Bless his procrastination. I don the trousers, rolling up the cuffs to fit my shorter legs, then pull my dress over my head and yank on the shirt. Thank Ieldran this is happening in the winter, when no one will question baggy clothes and multiple layers. My chest is small enough that I shouldn¡¯t have to worry about binding it to stay concealed, but having a coat to hide under makes me feel even better. I¡¯m stuffing the extra fabric at the end of each leg into my boots when Mjera arrives. ¡°Sorry!¡± she pants, heaving her own bag onto the table. ¡°Mama made me eat before I could get away. I brought some for you, though.¡± She holds out a chunk of oat bread, which I am far too nervous to eat. ¡°Did everything go well?¡± I ask. ¡°I told them the tenant didn¡¯t want anyone as young as Arun,¡± Mjera says. ¡°Mama was too grateful to question it. She also agreed to let Tomsu help out at your house while Aze is gone.¡± ¡°And you¡¯re sure Arun will be able to handle your herd on his own?¡± I ask. She nods. ¡°He won¡¯t have to do it long. Sovlin will help him once we¡¯re married.¡± ¡°Then everything is settled,¡± I say, letting out a relieved breath. ¡°Almost everything.¡± Mjera hands me a waterskin and a cup, and I pour out the dark liquid while she rolls my discarded dress into a ball and stuffs it into her bag. Clumps of the oak galls, walnut shells, and ground crowroot I gave her last night float to the top of the cup, and I scoop them out and toss them through the doorway into the snow. ¡°Sit down,¡± Mjera says, taking my sewing kit from my bag and withdrawing a pair of scissors. I obey wordlessly, picking at the bread while she takes my left braid and lays it between the blades of the scissors. Snip. The hair comes away in her hand, and she sets it on the table and moves on to the next. After a few minutes, she has both braids tied off and lying between our bags, with the rest of my hair cut short around my ears. ¡°Turn and look at me,¡± she says, standing back to admire her work. I roll my shoulders away from my neck and marvel at how light I feel. ¡°Well?¡± ¡°Your face looks sharper with short hair,¡± she muses. ¡°You make a handsome boy. Now let¡¯s do something about that color.¡± She dips a rag into the dye and squeezes it into the roots of my hair. I¡¯ve never colored my hair, but we dyed Mjera¡¯s a few years ago when she first developed an interest in Sovlin. Her father had been furious, but Sariruuse had only laughed and said that sometimes men needed help to notice the obvious. ¡°Mjera is a beauty,¡± she¡¯d said. ¡°But she isn¡¯t the only beauty. A dark flower stands out in a field of snow.¡± When she finishes, Mjera wipes her hands on another rag and pulls a mirror from her bag. ¡°What do you think?¡± I study my reflection, turning my face to get a better view of Mjera¡¯s handiwork. Instead of the exotic ash gray Mjera boasted after our efforts to gain Sovlin¡¯s attention, I end up with a muddy brownish black. It¡¯s darker than we intended¡ªmy white hair takes the dye easier than hers did¡ªbut there¡¯s enough Ielic blood in Vallegat to excuse the color. It should last a couple of weeks, if I¡¯m lucky, and longer if I can find the time to reapply the dye. She left the hair near my face long enough to hang into my eyes, but the rest is only half an inch long at the most. Add a hood and some luck, and I might be able to pull this off after all. The fully risen sun glares across the mirror¡ªI¡¯m running out of time. ¡°It¡¯s perfect,¡± I say, pouring the rest of the dye back into the waterskin. ¡°I¡¯ll send you word as soon as I can. You have my letters?¡± ¡°They¡¯re at home,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯ll deliver Edlan¡¯s this afternoon, and I¡¯ll bring the other to your parents tonight.¡± I nod and tie off my pack, looking around the hut for anything I might be forgetting. ¡°Then¡­ I think I¡¯m ready.¡± Mjera throws her arms around me. ¡°Be careful,¡± she says, her voice splintering into indigo shards of grief and worry. She pulls back and brushes her stained fingers over her eyes, then dabs her sleeve at my own. ¡°None of that,¡± she sniffs. ¡°Soldiers don¡¯t cry.¡± My chest aches as she backs away, but I try to summon a smile. ¡°I¡¯ll be back,¡± I say. I reach for my bag, but she stops me with a hand to my arm and unclasps her cloak. ¡°Here,¡± she says, holding it out to me. ¡°This was my father¡¯s. It¡¯s got a hood, and it¡¯s warm¡ªand it might help you blend in a little more.¡± I stare at it. ¡°Oh, Mjera¡­ I can¡¯t.¡± ¡°Go on,¡± she says, flashing me a trembling smile. ¡°If you¡¯re going to use his name, you might as well have something to go with it.¡± When I hesitate, she wraps it around my shoulders and lifts the hood over my wet hair. ¡°Now you¡¯re ready,¡± she says. Then she hands me my bag and steps out of the way, and I take a shaky breath to steady my nerves before plunging into the snow. *** Despite my worries, I arrive in the main square of the village in plenty of time. Men and boys cluster at the steps of the Kynstett, lined up before Tenant Gryfalkr and a man with a yellow mustache, who holds a book and a quill in his gloved hands. When the men of the village pause before them, the mustached man scratches something in his book and nods until Tenant Gryfalkr points the villager toward the soldiers waiting beyond. I search the crowd for Aze, but don¡¯t see him. I¡¯d promised to say goodbye in town, and I hope he isn¡¯t too disappointed that I won¡¯t be showing myself until later. Keeping my hood pulled low over my eyes, I move to stand in line behind Tenn the baker and glance at the other men from under my hair. It¡¯s cold enough that I¡¯m not the only one wearing a hood, but I don¡¯t want to act too suspiciously. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. The line moves quickly. Before long I find myself only two men away from Tenant Gryfalkr and the mustache, and I fold my arms to keep from fidgeting. ¡°Name,¡± the mustache says in a pinched voice. The villager before me ducks his head in a friendly way. ¡°Alc Hardysson,¡± he says. The carpenter¡¯s son. ¡°Haaaaaaardysson,¡± the mustache repeats, making a note in his book. He waves dismissively and Tenant Gryfalkr points to the soldiers. ¡°Wait over there,¡± he says. Alc goes, and then it¡¯s Tenn¡¯s turn. The three of them repeat the exchange while I focus on my breathing, clearing my throat gently. Why hadn¡¯t I thought to practice my voice on my way into town? ¡°Next,¡± the mustache says, and I move forward. He doesn¡¯t look up from his paper. ¡°Name?¡± ¡°Brennr Hirdinn,¡± I force out, my voice low and gravelly. The mustache checks his book, and I hold my breath while he scans the page. I keep my eyes down, waiting for Tenant Gryfalkr to recognize some detail I couldn¡¯t change. Too short, my heartbeat thumps. Too skinny. You¡¯ll never fool them. But then the mustache nods and makes his note, and Tenant Gryfalkr tells me to wait with the other soldiers. I hurry away without looking up, clutching Mjera¡¯s father¡¯s cloak around my shoulders. And then there is nothing to do but wait. There are another two dozen men to go through and I turn my head each time one of them looks my way. Once the rest of the villagers have filed through the line, Tenant Gryfalkr moves into the crowd and I lose sight of him. I stand awkwardly, pulsing with nervous energy, trying to force slow, calming breaths through my lungs. ¡°Move out!¡± the tenant calls, and the men begin walking. That¡¯s it? No speech, no announcement, nothing to mark the biggest event in our lives? I look out beyond the gathered villagers into the faces of the outer crowd, pressing forward as the new soldiers follow the men from Norwikk. The faces of wives, daughters, and sisters stare back, anguished as they strive to keep sight of their loved ones. Women who were told they can do nothing but wait. That this is the way of the world, and there is nothing they can do to change it. But if Ieldran wanted women to be silent onlookers in our own lives, why did he give us so many talents of our own? Why make me a Wordweaver? Why give me this desire to be a healer? These are skills I can use to help people, and I cannot believe he only wants men to use the gifts he gives them. The Pathkeeper blesses those who choose their own way, and I have chosen mine. I walk in a gap between a group of men I recognize but can¡¯t name, careful to keep my hood pulled low. They pay me no mind, engrossed in their own conversations. For a while, I listen to their words and let the crowd sweep me on, drifting farther and farther from Vallegat. When the last view of the Kynstett¡¯s spire fades beyond the treetops, I begin my search for Aze. I move carefully, looking for his dark hair among the pale heads. Plenty of other men are shuffling through the throng as well, moving to walk beside friends or relatives, so no one questions my cautious push through the ranks. At last I recognize Aze beside his friend Kjerrin, and I move until I am directly behind them and tug on Aze¡¯s sleeve. He looks over his shoulder at me, and I watch his eyes narrow and then widen as he goes from confused to astonished. ¡°Yn¡ª¡± he starts, but I jerk on his arm to cut him off. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Kjerrin asks. Aze stares at me, his mouth hanging open. ¡°Uh...¡± he manages finally. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡± I drag Aze away, back until we¡¯ve reached the end of the line, letting the last row of men move ahead of us. ¡°Surprise,¡± I say. Aze doesn¡¯t look amused. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± I tip my hood back so I can see him better. ¡°Taking Arun¡¯s place.¡± ¡°What do you mean? How can you take his place?¡± ¡°I told them I was Brennr Hirdinn, and they believed me.¡± Aze gapes at me. ¡°You can¡¯t be here. Go back before someone sees you!¡± ¡°And what do you think will happen if I do that?¡± I ask. ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll just let Arun stay home because he missed the first conscription? Do you think they wouldn¡¯t punish him? Or me?¡± Aze lets out a frustrated sigh, but there¡¯s enough resignation in it to give me hope. ¡°So you aren¡¯t happy to see me?¡± I press. ¡°Sure,¡± Aze grumbles. ¡°Assuming you don¡¯t get yourself killed for impersonating a soldier, and me for knowing about it.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not impersonating a soldier,¡± I argue. ¡°Just a shepherd. They never actually said a woman couldn¡¯t join.¡± ¡°Women can¡¯t fight in the army!¡± ¡°Says who?¡± Aze sputters and gestures helplessly. ¡°History?¡± ¡°Aze,¡± I say, willing him to understand. ¡°What else was I supposed to do? Move in with Bronhold¡¯s mother? Wait for him to come back and marry me against my will? It¡¯s better this way. Now Arun doesn¡¯t have to fight, and I can actually use the things Edlan taught me. I can help people.¡± ¡°And if you get caught?¡± he says. ¡°I won¡¯t get caught.¡± Aze shakes his head, shoving his hands into his pockets. ¡°I don¡¯t agree with this,¡± he mutters. Before I can answer, he rolls his eyes and nudges my shoulder with his. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get back up to Kjerrin. He shouldn¡¯t recognize you. I barely do.¡± I follow him back to his friend, and Aze feeds him a story about me being a distant cousin from Norwikk. Kjerrin accepts the lie and tries to ask me a few questions, but after my third grunted answer he gives up and focuses his attention on Aze. Most of what they say is echoed by those around us: speculations about what the fort will look like, what our training will entail, and who will be the better swordsman. ¡°How long do you think it will be before we¡¯re sent into battle?¡± Kjerrin asks excitedly. ¡°Weeks,¡± Aze answers. ¡°Most of us don¡¯t know anything about fighting. It¡¯ll take at least that long to train us.¡± Not to mention there¡¯s no battle to fight yet. Tenant Gryfalkr said they needed soldiers for the upcoming war, not that there was one happening already. If that¡¯s the case, it could be months or even years before we see action, which will give me time to prove myself as a healer. As the sun climbs overhead, a horn blows from the front of the line and a hush falls over our group. Nothing else happens for about ten minutes, but then a soldier pushes toward us from ahead with a small cart filled with crates and bags. ¡°Rations,¡± he calls. ¡°One ration per man.¡± ¡°Lunch,¡± explains a man from Norwikk. ¡°We eat at midday and in the evening. Don¡¯t count on breakfast unless you brought some of your own.¡± I glance at Aze. We don¡¯t normally eat a midday meal, though some bring hard bread or nuts with them to eat throughout the day. I can¡¯t imagine waiting until midday for my first meal of the day. But Aze lifts his eyebrows at my frown. ¡°This is what you wanted, right? Think you can handle skipping breakfast?¡± I clear my expression and tip my chin up. ¡°Of course. I only hope you can keep up with me.¡± I pinch at the thick muscle on Aze¡¯s arm, and he snorts and shoves me away. Nearly half an hour passes before we get our share, and its contents make a disappointing meal: one chunk of dried meat, one slice of bread, and a cut of cheese to round it off. Most of the men stack the ingredients together to eat, but I eat mine slowly, savoring each bite. Who knows what they¡¯ll serve us for supper? We eat while we walk, having received no commands to stop. There are no breaks called, either, except the short respites when we slip into the forest to relieve ourselves. Aze keeps watch while I find some bushes far enough from the main group, but my heart pounds the entire time and continues long after we return to the road. All around us, the mountainous landscape changes, tall crags and pines fading to scattered oaks, ash, and white willow. I even spot a few clumps of thyme nestled among the brush, which I pick carefully and add to my bag. By the time the sun sinks toward the horizon, I hate my decision to join the men. The strap of my bag digs into my shoulder no matter how often I reposition it, and my feet and legs ache at the unfamiliar exercise. Even the excited chatter among the boys has quieted. The soldiers herd us toward the side of the road, where they break us into groups and assign us chores. My group, which includes Aze, Kjerrin, five other villagers, and three soldiers, gathers wood for a fire. We forge out into the forest, stacking our arms full of branches. Six other soldiers heft crossbows as they watch us fan out between the trees, and I make sure to keep them in sight. Are they there to protect us, or to keep us from leaving? ¡°You and you.¡± Devlinn, one of the soldiers in our group, points to me and Kjerrin. ¡°Take your firewood to the first quarter.¡± He gestures down the road, then turns to give more orders to the others while Kjerrin and I start off. I avoid his gaze as we walk, and that of anyone else I pass, and manage to drop off my load of kindling without anyone questioning me. Then we return to our group¡ªour quarter¡ªas they emerge from the forest to start our own little fire. I search hopefully for a tent, but it seems we¡¯ll be sleeping in the open tonight. The temperature drops with the setting sun, and images of my warm bed swim in my mind. Mama and Papa will discover my absence soon. ¡°Here,¡± Devlinn says, holding out a blanket and bedroll. ¡°Part of your supplies. Every man is issued an extra blanket for the cold nights. Most of us are from the plains, but I suppose you¡¯re used to the cold up here in the mountains.¡± I accept the bundle silently. Being used to the cold and wanting to sleep out in it are two different things. I wish I¡¯d thought to bring my own blanket. As our fire sparks to life under the expert hands of our soldier guardian, the rest of us spread out our new bedrolls in a kind of wagon wheel formation with the fire at the center. I take my extra pair of stockings from my satchel in preparation for the cold night ahead. Another quarter passes out our supper rations, a slightly more satisfying meal of salted pork, a loaf of bread and some cheese to split between our quarter, a few dried apples, and a cup each of weak ale. While we eat, the soldiers share stories with the eager villagers in our group. Only Aze, Kjerrin, and I are from Vallegat. The others are from Norwikk, thank the Phoenix, and range in age from twenty to fifty. Finally, Devlinn stretches and yawns. ¡°Better get some sleep,¡± he says. ¡°Tomorrow we¡¯ll arrive at the fort, and then your training starts. You¡¯ll want whatever rest you can get.¡± Gratefully, I take off my boots and cloak and snuggle down into my fire-warmed blankets, eager to give myself over to sleep. By now, Mjera will have told Mama and Papa what I¡¯ve done, and guilt churns my stomach whenever I think of their reactions. I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be hurt, especially since I left without saying goodbye. And Edlan... Will he think me ungrateful? Will he call me selfish for abandoning him just so I would not have to marry Bronhold? Or will he understand that had no other choice? I¡¯m not even sure I can name the emotions fighting for attention in my head. There is no excitement, no relief at having succeeded so far. Mostly I just feel¡­ tired. Tired of thinking, tired of walking, and tired of worrying. And there will only be more to face tomorrow. Feeling wearier than I ever have before, I curl my back to the fire and thank Ieldran for keeping me safe so far. Aze rolls to face me. ¡°You¡¯re still sure about this?¡± he whispers. I wrinkle my nose. ¡°There¡¯s not much I could do if I wasn¡¯t.¡± ¡°We¡¯d figure something out.¡± I flop onto my back, looking up through bare overhanging branches at a cloudy sky. ¡°I¡¯m here, Aze,¡± I say. ¡°There¡¯s no changing that.¡± Beside me, Aze readjusts his position and grumbles under his breath. ¡°Good night,¡± I tell him, already feeling myself drift toward slumber. ¡°Night... Brennr.¡± Chapter Six ¡°Wolves! To arms! Defend yourselves!¡± I lurch to my knees, ripped upright by the shouted orders. The screams start a heartbeat later, stabbing into my ears, my bones, my gut. Something pushes into me, knocking me forward as the soldiers in my quarter leap to their feet. ¡°Bows!¡± someone yells. Another man screams, and one of the fires gutters out. Blurred shadows streak toward the absence of light, yelping and snarling. I shoot to my feet, boots forgotten. Wolves. The camp is under attack. ¡°Close in around the fire,¡± Devlinn yells, drawing his sword. The other soldiers do the same, crowding around us as more wolves press out of the darkness. Howls cut through the night, covering shouted orders as the soldiers try to organize. A scream splits the air, coming from the nearest quarter. ¡°Release arrows!¡± calls a soldier. ¡°There, in the trees!¡± ¡°To the central fire,¡± Devlinn says, and the soldiers sprint off toward the shouts while Devlinn urges us toward the center of the camp. I cast around for something to use as a weapon, but there¡¯s nothing¡ªeven the branches I might take from the fire are too small to do anything. Aze presses his hand against my arm, putting himself a step ahead of me. As if he has any power to protect me. We¡¯re helpless. A rustle in the bushes behind me makes me turn. In the hellish lights from the guttering fires, I can barely make out the silhouettes of three wolves dragging something into the trees. It¡¯s nothing but a shadow, but even that is clear enough to make out the shape of a body. I stand frozen, unable to move as they jerk their victim away from the light. No one else sees¡ªI should say something¡ªbut my quarter surges on without me. Another shape breaks away from the fires, sword held tight at his side and cloak billowing over his shoulders. Tenant Gryfalkr. The wolves drop their prey at the edge of the tree line to face the new threat as the tenant crashes toward them, swinging his sword wide, making himself as large as possible. Two of the wolves draw back, but the third launches itself at him. Another slash and it goes down¡ªbut the other two are there to take its place. They snarl, tails lashing, as the tenant turns his sword toward them. The brush where the wolves left their victim trembles. I take an involuntary step forward. Is he still alive? ¡°Aze,¡± I breathe, but my brother is already ahead with the rest of the quarter. The wolves growl, drawing my attention in time to see them leap at Tenant Gryfalkr. He catches one with his sword, but the other breaks past, teeth flashing in the firelight before they sink into the tenant¡¯s leg. He cries out and staggers, then goes down as the wolf pounces on him. I snatch up a piece of wood from a scattered fire and rush toward them, brandishing my pathetic weapon. The remaining wolf turns to face me, snarling. I shout, stomping my stockinged feet in the underbrush and waving the smoking stick. This should be enough. Even when the wolves attacked our sheep, this would have been enough to make them pause. But the wolf jumps at me, heedless. I yelp and swing my stick harmlessly as the wolf dances back, growling¡ªinto Tenant Gryfalkr¡¯s sword. It crumples, falling forward to lie still as the sword pulls free of its fur. Tenant Gryfalkr collapses. The embers left on my stick sputter out, and I blink desperately in the fresh darkness. Harsh breathing gives away his position, so I drop to a crouch and make my way toward him. ¡°Tenant?¡± His only answer is a shuddering breath. My hand touches his arm, and I drag myself the rest of the way until I¡¯m kneeling over him. There¡¯s no moonlight tonight; a blanket of clouds obscures the sky, and all I can make out is the darker shadow of his body against the earth. The skin on the back of my neck prickles, anticipating the teeth of another wolf. ¡°You¡¯re injured?¡± I ask. My voice trembles. ¡°My leg,¡± he forces out. ¡°Bitten.¡± I reach out a hesitant hand and recoil as hot, wet blood soaks through my glove. The tenant hisses and pulls away. ¡°Stay still,¡± I say. ¡°I can help you.¡± It¡¯s a lie. My bag is back at the fire, and if the bite damaged the wrong part of the leg, there may be nothing I could do even if I had the supplies. Tenant Gryfalkr steadies himself and jerks his head in a weak nod. I tear off my gloves and reach forward again. Blood pools in the mess of flesh and fabric on his thigh and spills into the frozen earth. ¡°Tenant,¡± I say, pressing my hands into the wound. He groans, throwing his head back against the ground. ¡°Tenant, you need to stay awake. The bite damaged an artery.¡± ¡°Artery,¡± the tenant echoes. ¡°That¡¯s bad?¡± Why didn¡¯t I bring my bag? This would need yarrow and nettle to stop the bleeding, and vervain to protect against infection afterwards. No, he¡¯ll bleed to death before infection has a chance to set in. ¡°It¡¯s not good,¡± I answer absently. ¡°If the bleeding isn¡¯t stopped...¡± ¡°Ieldran,¡± the tenant breathes. His voice is a pale, dusty blue, a washed out version of its former color. ¡°You can¡ªyou can help?¡± No. The blood pours out over my hands, sticky and burning and everywhere. I don¡¯t speak, but he hears my answer in the silence. ¡°Ieldran.¡± His voice shakes around the word, and his body follows. It¡¯s already too late. ¡°My father,¡± he says, faintly. ¡°Someone should tell him. He¡¯ll be expecting me.¡± Edlan told me never to lie to a dying man, so I keep my teeth clenched over the reassurances I want to give. No herbs can heal this wound. But he¡¯s lying there in the darkness, trembling, and I have to say something. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry.¡± The words form before I can tell them not to, before I can acknowledge how useless they are, but the tenant shifts and grips my hand in the darkness. ¡°There¡¯s¡­ nothing you can do.¡± But there is. I dig both hands into the wound. Blood squelches over my fingers, but I push out the sensation and conjure up the image of healthy, smooth skin and strong muscles. The tenant cries out, and I don¡¯t need to see the ugly bruised yellow in his voice to know that he¡¯s afraid. ¡°Heal,¡± I whisper, pressing every ounce of energy that has built up over the day into the command. Light surges through my fingers, filling the darkness with a burning, golden glow. Dimly, I¡¯m aware of the tenant shifting beside me, lifting the corner of his cloak to block the light from the rest of the camp. Nothing happens. I delve deeper into the wound, ignoring the tenant¡¯s agonized gasp, searching for the deepest part of the injury. ¡°Heal,¡± I order, as firmly as Edlan had been every time he told me not to do this. My inexperience will not cause the tenant¡¯s death today. The wound will heal. I will not accept anything else. As if waiting for that thought, his muscle trembles under my fingers and slowly pulls itself together. I withdraw my hands, following the progress of the mending flesh as I retreat from the wound. The flow of blood stems beneath newly mended skin as the tenant¡¯s shallow gasps turn to shuddering inhalations, then at last deep, even breaths. When there is no trace of the wound except the blood still staining his clothes, I cut off the power flowing through my fingers and let the darkness return. Exhaustion crushes me. I sag over Tenant Gryfalkr¡¯s body, sucking in a breath that tastes like blood and sawdust. Spots swim before my vision, though I can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s because of the loss of energy or the disappearance of light. Tenant Gryfalkr¡¯s hands are on my shoulders. He tries to speak, but his breath catches on his words and obscures them. Or maybe it¡¯s the blood rushing through my ears that keeps me from understanding. My stomach churns, and numbness works its way through my limbs. I¡¯m always tired after Wordweaving, but it¡¯s never been this bad before¡ªbut then, I¡¯ve never healed anything this serious before. A prickle of panic rushes up my spine, but I force long, slow breaths through my lungs until I feel it subside. It¡¯s just the normal weakness. I cast around for something else to focus on besides my unsteadiness and try not to settle on the pressure of the tenant¡¯s grip on my coat. Ieldran, the other soldier. Guilt wipes the weariness from my mind as I push to my feet and stumble toward the brush where the wolves left him. The body is still there, but when I drop to my knees beside him and press my fingers to the neck, they push through the torn flesh to the exposed bone beneath. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. The smell of blood drenches the air, and I barely have time to lean over before I¡¯m retching into the snow. He was probably dead before the tenant went after him, and certainly before I made my foolish charge into the woods. Whatever movement I¡¯d thought I¡¯d seen must have been a trick of the darkness, or of my panicked mind. I pull in a shaking breath and wipe the back of my wrist across my mouth. I don¡¯t know this man. The empty scabbard on his belt marks him as a soldier, but that¡¯s all I can tell in the darkness. He had his sword drawn when the wolves took him, protecting the villagers in his quarter. The shouts and barking sounds from the campsite have subsided, but I can¡¯t manage the energy to look back. A hand touches my shoulder. I flinch away from it. ¡°Loen,¡± Tenant Gryfalkr says. ¡°I was the only one who saw him fall. I tried to call for help, but no one came. I didn¡¯t think anyone noticed.¡± I scrub a bloody sleeve across my eyes. The tenant crouches beside me, his movements slow and cautious. ¡°Is he dead?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± My throat is dry, and the word comes out choked and brittle. Snow melts beneath my knees, soaking into my borrowed trousers along with the blood. The cold drags a shiver from me. The tenant¡¯s grip on my shoulder tightens. ¡°I miss the braids,¡± he says. A burst of panic scorches the nausea clawing up my throat, settling in a hot flush across my chest. ¡°What?¡± ¡°At least I know why you asked all those questions now,¡± he says. ¡°You did a good job of disguising yourself, but I never forget a voice.¡± My voice. How could I have forgotten to change my voice? I am the most stupid, the most irresponsible¡ªall I had to do was stay out of the tenant¡¯s way and not Wordweave, and I couldn¡¯t last a day. It¡¯s all over now. ¡°What will you do with me?¡± The words come out shakily, as weak as the tenant¡¯s had been only moments ago. He hesitates, and when I look over my shoulder, his form is silhouetted against the firelight from the road. ¡°I¡¯m under no orders to disclose the identity of any Wordweaver we may find among the villagers,¡± he says at last. ¡°But¡­ I thought¡­¡± ¡°I told you I was hoping to find a different use for Wordweavers,¡± he says. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize I¡¯d stumbled upon the best source for my answers. So much for women not being able to Wordweave.¡± ¡°I said there was no record of it,¡± I say weakly. ¡°That¡¯s wise,¡± he says. He settles into a more comfortable position, his elbow bumping mine as he shifts forward. ¡°You said that every Wordweaver must make a sacrifice.¡± I¡¯ve never told anybody what happened. My family was there, and so was Edlan, so who else could I talk to? There have been many times over the years when I almost told Mjera, but something always stopped me. One of her parents calling for her, or our brothers interrupting, or the fear that if the king ever came for me, he would punish anyone who kept my secret. It was safer and easier to keep it to myself, but now¡­ what does it matter if the tenant knows how it happened? A tiny voice that sounds suspiciously like Edlan warns me not to speak, but I¡¯m tired of silence. I¡¯m tired of hiding, of keeping the best parts of myself buried under fear and mistrust. I want to tell someone. And for the first time in my life, someone wants to know. ¡°There was a fire.¡± My voice is low, and it cracks over the word fire, so I have to clear my throat to continue. ¡°In the lambing barn, when I was a child. Most of the sheep got out, but when we counted them, my favorite lamb was missing. Her name was Ixia.¡± ¡°Ielic for ¡®snow¡¯,¡± the tenant says. ¡°She was the most beautiful lamb I¡¯d ever seen,¡± I go on, barely louder than a whisper. ¡°Her fleece was so soft, it was like holding a cloud. And she was curious and playful and¡­¡± I¡¯m rambling, but the tenant listens as though my description of the lamb is as important as the Wordweaving. I clear my throat again. ¡°I went in after her. I didn¡¯t mean it to be a sacrifice¡ªI didn¡¯t even think¡ªI just went in. I found her in one of the pens just before the roof collapsed.¡± ¡°That¡¯s how you got your scars,¡± the tenant says. I look at him, and he goes on in a soft voice. ¡°I saw your hands when you were cleaning after dinner. And when you took off your scarf.¡± ¡°The burns are all over,¡± I say, shrugging. ¡°My hands, my arms, my chest, my neck. But I don¡¯t remember it hurting much. It was just fear for Ixia.¡± ¡°Did you save her?¡± In spite of myself, of the blood covering my hands and the snow soaking into my trousers, I smile. ¡°Yes. My father came in after me and pulled me out, and I had Ixia in my arms. She wasn¡¯t breathing, so I begged the Phoenix to bring her back. And¡­ then I healed her.¡± Mama had run to fetch Edlan when they realized I was in the barn, and they came back as I was healing Ixia. I didn¡¯t understand my parents¡¯ fear at the time¡ªsurely what I had done was a good thing?¡ªbut we were blessed that Edlan was the one to witness it. He never spoke a word of it except to teach me the importance of keeping my abilities secret. So much for that. ¡°But if you could heal the lamb,¡± the tenant says, interrupting my memory. ¡°And if you healed me, why not heal yourself?¡± I lift and drop one shoulder. ¡°I can¡¯t. I¡¯ve healed many of my other injuries, but never the burns. I think it¡¯s because they were my sacrifice. It¡¯s not truly a sacrifice if you can get it back, is it?¡± The tenant is quiet, and I shift to relieve legs that have gone numb. ¡°How old were you?¡± he asks finally. ¡°Six.¡± ¡°Then you¡¯ve always been brave.¡± A short, humorless laugh rips out of me. I want nothing more than to hug my knees to my chest and cry¡ªor go to sleep¡ªor turn around and run all the way back to Vallegat. ¡°I¡¯m not brave. I¡¯m selfish. I risked my life and my father¡¯s to save a sheep. I¡¯m only here now because I wanted to escape a marriage, and leaving with the soldiers gave me the best cover.¡± ¡°You gave another family¡¯s name.¡± I hesitate, but there¡¯s no point in holding back now. If he wants to send me away, knowing this information won¡¯t change anything. ¡°Mjera¡¯s,¡± I say. ¡°Her brother is only a child. When you wouldn¡¯t make an exception, I thought this was the best way to solve both our problems. But please, Tenant, if you must send me back, say that Brennr Hirdinn was taken by the wolves. Don¡¯t make Arun pay for my actions.¡± ¡°Chass,¡± he says. A burst of grass-green sparks showers his voice, so bright that I have to blink away the afterimage. ¡°What?¡± ¡°If I am to keep your secret, I will give you one in return. Call me Chass.¡± ¡°You¡­ you¡¯re not going to tell?¡± ¡°No.¡± His voice is back to its usual blue, but it¡¯s lighter than it was before. ¡°I won¡¯t bring you to the Grand General, and I won¡¯t reveal your gender. If this is where you want to be, I won¡¯t send you away.¡± I stare at him. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not so easy to disregard a life debt,¡± he says, driving a soft huff of air through his lips. ¡°I won¡¯t repay it with a life of servitude as a weapon of war.¡± I open my mouth, but a voice shouts from the road before I can speak. ¡°Tenant! Tenant Gryfalkr! Has anyone seen the tenant?¡± He lets out a breath and pushes carefully to his feet. ¡°Here.¡± He reaches for my hand and I let him pull me up, casting one last look at the dead soldier before the tenant leads me back to camp. His hand stays clasped around mine, and something in the clammy grip of his skin makes me think he¡¯s seeking comfort rather than giving it. His confession from the inn flashes through my mind¡ª¡°My rank often creates distance between me and other people. It can be¡­ lonely.¡± Coupled with his nickname, it paints an image of a lost little boy under the tenant¡¯s uniform, and another one of my barriers falls away. ¡°Tenant,¡± one of the soldiers says, fear and relief clinging like yellow and violet vines to his words. I drop Chass¡¯s hand, and he answers in a strained voice. ¡°How many?¡± ¡°Five missing. We¡¯re searching, sir.¡± ¡°Good. Carry on.¡± He looks back at me as the soldier hurries away. ¡°That¡¯s my quarter,¡± I murmur, gesturing toward the fire that had felt so safe and warm just minutes ago. ¡°Go then,¡± he says. ¡°And...¡± I wait, but he shakes his head and clears his throat. ¡°Thank you isn¡¯t enough.¡± ¡°Your silence is,¡± I say. ¡°You have it.¡± His dark eyes gleam in the firelight, and I have to summon what feels like all my strength to break his gaze. He stays there while I move through the company, trying not to feel the heat of his attention on my back. By the time I reach my quarter, the exhaustion has settled over me like a second skin, weighing me down as though trying to press me into the earth. ¡°There he is,¡± Kjerrin says, pointing as I approach. Aze spins toward me, his face going white. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I say, remembering at the last moment to pitch my voice low. Fear and exhaustion thicken the words, so they come out in a harsh, coarse grate. ¡°What happened?¡± Aze rasps. His eyes are on my arms, and I look down to find Tenant Gryfalkr¡¯s blood reaching as high as my elbows. My sleeves are soaked in it, along with the front of my shirt and the knees of my trousers. I left my gloves behind with the wolves, but I¡¯ll never get the blood out of them now. ¡°It¡¯s not mine,¡± I say, aware of the others¡¯ eyes settling on me. ¡°One of the soldiers was dragged into the forest by the wolves, and¡ªand when they left, I went to see if I could help him.¡± Aze grips my shoulders. ¡°What were you thinking?¡± he demands in a harsh whisper. ¡°You could have been killed.¡± I nod, unable to form an argument. I would have been furious if Aze had gone off without me; I can hardly fault him for reacting the same way. But it¡¯s done now, and I all I want is to sleep and forget how close I came to ruining everything. ¡°Do you have an extra shirt?¡± says Devlinn in a gentle voice. I nod woodenly. ¡°Change it before you go to sleep,¡± he suggests. ¡°I¡¯ll see if I can find some water for you to wash up in.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± Aze shoots me a worried look, but I wave him off. I know how to change without showing anything. At least when it comes to my shirt, anyway... my trousers I will have to leave on or change beneath the bedroll. I kneel beside the fire and dig through my bag until I find the clothes, and then slip my coat from my shoulders and drag the extra shirt over my head. I tuck my arms through the sleeves, rolling the soiled shirt off underneath the clean one and pull it through the neck and over my head. Aze takes it and folds it to keep the blood stains tucked inside the clean parts of the cloth before packing it away in my satchel. Devlinn returns with an extra water skin, and Aze pours a stream from it so I can wash my arms. The blood on my knees has mostly dried, so I decide to leave my trousers on and change them when I can find more privacy. ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll come back?¡± Kjerrin asks as I finish. Devlinn shrugs. ¡°I doubt it. We killed quite a few of them before they ran off, so I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll be back tonight.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll reach the fort tomorrow,¡± puts in another of the soldiers. ¡°It¡¯s got walls and a lot more guards, so we needn¡¯t fear the wolves.¡± But I do fear them. It was hard to tell exactly how many there were, but even without knowing the numbers, that was easily the largest pack I¡¯ve ever seen. I¡¯ve heard of wolves attacking lone travelers on their way between valley villages, but never a group the size of ours. My shouting and burning stick should have been enough to scare them away, and it wasn¡¯t. Will crossbows be any better? ¡°Get some sleep,¡± Aze says quietly. ¡°The soldiers are taking shifts throughout the night. We¡¯re protected.¡± A glance at Devlinn confirms this, so I give in to the heavy feeling in my eyes and return to my bedroll. The others do the same, except two of our soldiers, who take up positions with their backs to the fire and their swords held out. It makes me feel no safer, and sleep does not come back for me. Chapter Seven A bugle call rouses us the next morning, though I suspect I was not the only one who stayed awake. The men break the camp with jerky, nervous motions, sending wary looks over their shoulders toward the forest. We are lucky to have suffered light casualties. Loen was the only soldier who was killed, along with four men from Norwikk. The Norwikkers in our quarter are subdued, and the soldiers clutch their weapons as we gather our bedrolls. When the order comes to move out, we all but jog down the road in relief. An overcast sky threatens snow, and I wrap my borrowed cloak tighter around my shoulders. Thank Ieldran I wasn¡¯t wearing it last night, so it was spared the staining the rest of my clothes got. I¡¯m glad Mjera made me take it. It smells like her house, like smoke and the rosemary Sariruuse hangs in the rafters to keep bugs away. The reminder of home is both welcome and discouraging. I keep picturing Edlan¡¯s face every time he warned me about revealing my secret. I¡¯ve finally done what I said I wanted to do¡ªWordweave to heal¡ªbut it doesn¡¯t feel as good as I thought it would. The only thing I feel is the relentless pounding of a headache behind my eyes. I think I could sleep for a week and it wouldn¡¯t be enough. If Aze notices my exhaustion, he doesn¡¯t comment on it. He doesn¡¯t speak at all. Nobody does, except to murmur prayers that the Pathkeeper will watch over the rest of our journey. Throughout the day I keep an eye out for Tenant Gryfalkr, but he stays near the front of the group. At any moment, he may decide he owes more to his army and his commanders than to me, and could I even blame him? After all, if I¡¯m found out, he will be punished as well. But the way he offered his nickname¡­ he was so earnest and hesitant, like the time Tomsu brought me a rock and asked if it was a crystal. ¡°Is it precious?¡± he¡¯d said, but didn¡¯t wait for my answer before running off to show Arun. It didn¡¯t matter what I said; crystal or not, it was precious to him. I want to believe him. It¡¯s more than his mountain traits or the promise he made to protect the villagers¡ªit¡¯s the gratitude he showed to Mama, the way he listened to Papa¡¯s stories and sparred with Aze. I want to believe that he could be a friend. The sun crawls higher toward its zenith, but there is no word of slowing for a midday meal. ¡°We¡¯re close to the fort,¡± Devlinn explains. ¡°We¡¯ll take our meal there. We should arrive within the hour.¡± Hints of yesterday¡¯s excitement return with every mile, though it is muted and controlled compared to the buzz from yesterday. The fear of wolves vanishes with the trees as the road slopes upward, into the rocky passes spread between the valleys. Kjerrin cajoles the soldiers into retelling last night¡¯s favorite stories, which the men gladly agree to do. ¡°Look,¡± says Devlinn. I peer at the road ahead, through the last tall pines clinging to the rocky soil. A stand of trees rises between them¡ªbut no, not trees. A wall, built from tall timbers to form an impenetrable barrier. Atop the walls, tiny specks wander back and forth, no doubt armed with bows and who knows what else. The last traces of fear drain from the assembly. We are safe. We slow as we near the gates, and from the front of the line I hear Chass¡¯s voice lifting to the guards. ¡°Detail from Norwikk and Vallegat, fifty-three men. Tenant Warchass Gryfalkr in command.¡± A faint reply is shouted from the other side of the doors before a wooden clunking drowns it out. The soldiers within draw the gate open, revealing the inner courtyard beyond. Chass leads the way in, followed by each of the quarters. Ours is last. A crawling itch spreads across the back of my neck as we pass through the gates, and I stop and turn back toward the last of the trees. I could swear that something was watching me, but nothing moves¡ªnot even a breath of wind. ¡°Brennr,¡± Aze says. I frown at the path before following him inside. Four men heave a solid wooden bar into metal brackets as the doors close behind us, locking us in. Chass leads us to the center of the courtyard while I try to keep myself from gawking at the compound. Most of the area is encased in the thick timber walls, except for the northern end. There, the walls are built tight against the side of the mountain, where a wide cave gapes beneath an overhang of snow-covered rock. I can¡¯t see inside from here, but torchlight flickers within as though beckoning us through. A Norwikker points excitedly to the ramparts, wooden walkways encircling the tops of the walls and patrolled by soldiers bearing crossbows. Along the perimeter of the walls are dozens of buildings, surrounding a large yard filled with scores of soldiers, all wearing the same black and silver armbands, all carrying weapons. The itch on the back of my neck has become a burn, pulsing as every heartbeat drives it further into my body. I rub at the skin, blinking around in confusion. This feels like the time my tongue swelled up after eating a crayfish as a child, except the sensation pounds through my blood instead of in my mouth. I shoot a panicked look at Aze, who only furrows his eyebrows in confusion. ¡°Welcome to Fort Foltepp,¡± Chass calls. ¡°This will be your home for the next few weeks. During this time, you will be trained and equipped until you are ready to join Awnia¡¯s main forces. This is a great honor.¡± Am I imagining it, or does he sound sarcastic? The men give an uncertain but willing cheer, and Chass lets it come to a natural end before speaking again. ¡°The soldiers in your quarters will supply you with armor and explain your schedules. First and second quarters, you may begin in the barracks. Third and fourth, begin in the dining hall.¡± ¡°Follow us then,¡± Devlinn says, making his way across the yard toward a long building with smoke rising from the top. The smell of smoke and grease pours from a kitchen tucked behind a counter on the southern wall. Two boys scurry back and forth, cleaning and chopping ingredients for the cook, who calls out directions in a harsh voice. Before the counter, a man with a black and silver armband serves the meal to the third quarter recruits. We join the line, picking up trays at the end of the counter and waiting for our serving of whatever the man is ladling from his pot. Oats, I think, with some sort of meat mixed in. I accept my glop of oat mush and move down the line, taking a cup of amber liquid from a row at the end of the counter before I follow Aze to a seat in the center of the room. The tables are long, with benches built in to eliminate the need for chairs. I take the seat beside my brother and steel myself for my first bite. The itchy crayfish feeling stirs up again, shooting down my spine and driving my head up. I glance at Aze, but he doesn¡¯t seem to be having the same reaction. No one else does. Rows of men eat with their heads together, chewing and talking and¡ª No, not everyone. A man near the entrance has his head up too, searching the room as I do. His eyes sweep over the new recruits, and I turn away before he can catch me looking. ¡°Don¡¯t you think, Brennr?¡± Aze asks in a tone that suggests he¡¯s repeating himself. ¡°What?¡± ¡°That the oats aren¡¯t bad.¡± I nod absently. ¡°Do you feel that?¡± ¡°Feel what?¡± That¡¯s a no, then. Maybe there¡¯s crayfish in the oats. Maybe there are crayfish in the cave and their proximity is enough to make my skin tingle before having eaten them. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. I don¡¯t want to wonder what else it might be. When we finish our meal, Devlinn directs us to leave our trays in a cart near the door and leads us to a row of buildings along the western wall. ¡°Anything you need is right here,¡± he says. ¡°Armor, weapons, and just about anything else you might require. If you need a replacement for anything, you will have to pay for it, but some of it will be issued as a part of your wages.¡± ¡°This building is for clothing,¡± explains another of the soldiers, Rogerts. ¡°That over there is for weapons, and that one is for everything else.¡± Devlinn points to two of the Norwikkers. ¡°You three go with Roskinn to get the armor for everyone. Rogerts will take you two to get the weapons¡ª¡± He points at Aze and another villager, ¡°¡ªand I¡¯ll take you two for the rest.¡± He gestures toward me and the last Norwikker. ¡°We¡¯ll meet back up in bunk four.¡± I follow Devlinn into one of the supply buildings, trying not to gape at the shelves of items. The room is filled with everything I could imagine a fort needing, with barrels to crates to bags stuffed with supplies. Hammers, nails, and other tools line one shelf, while another has extra blankets and thin pillows. Shovels and picks lean against a line of boxes in the back. ¡°Take these,¡± Devlinn instructs, pulling a pile of blankets from one shelf and dropping them into the Norwikker¡¯s arms before turning to me. ¡°You can bring two lanterns and an extra flask of oil.¡± I locate the lanterns on a low shelf near the back of the room and crouch to take two of them, reaching for an oil flask nearby. A glint of light on the floor draws my eye. Something metallic gleams under the shelf, half-buried in the dirt, and I reach to pick it up and hold it in my open palm. It¡¯s a ring. The band is made of silver, shining as though it¡¯s been freshly polished. A sleek green gemstone is set into its face, held in place by two sets of tiny silver wings. ¡°Got them?¡± Devlinn asks. I jump, clenching the ring in my fist. ¡°Coming.¡± I snatch up the oil flask, slipping the ring into my pocket as soon as Devlinn turns away. I follow him and the Norwikker from the storage room to the barracks, my heart pounding. I¡¯ve never stolen anything before, other than a few of the tiny cakes Herre Innre used to leave to cool on his windowsill. And Edlan¡¯s herbs. And Aze¡¯s clothes and Mjera¡¯s papa¡¯s name. Ieldran forgive me. I¡¯ll turn the ring in to Chass when I see him next. ¡°The officers have their own rooms,¡± Rogerts is explaining to the others when we arrive. ¡°But we all share the barracks with the men in our quarters.¡± Aze sneaks a glance at me, which I try to meet bravely. We¡¯ll figure something out. Devlinn leads the way through the barrack doors, which open into a long, plain room lit only by the light from the doorway. Rows of bunk beds crowd along each wall. Many spots are already made up, but others bear only plain straw mattresses. ¡°It may not look like much,¡± Devlinn says. ¡°But you won¡¯t be spending much time here, anyway. We train in shifts, but whenever you¡¯re not training you¡¯ll either be working, eating, or sleeping. New recruits don¡¯t get much free time until their training is over.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll start your duties this afternoon,¡± Rogerts puts in, gesturing toward the beds. ¡°Pick a bunk. It will be yours until you finish your training.¡± We deposit our supplies and choose our bunks, spreading blankets over them and leaving any bags we¡¯ve brought from home. Aze picks a bunk near the door, and I take the one above it. ¡°Each man must wear an armband at all times,¡± Devlinn goes on, distributing the cloths while we make our beds. ¡°One padded shirt per man. You are also allowed one tunic, one pair of trousers, and one set of boots. Any other armor you want to wear, you will have to buy on your own when you are assigned to your permanent units.¡± Rogerts gestures to a stack of wooden poles his group brought in. ¡°And each man will have a spear during training,¡± he adds. ¡°If you show the skill for it, you may also be trained to use a sword or a bow, but each man starts with this. During battle, you¡¯ll be given shields as well.¡± Devlinn folds his arms. ¡°Then all that¡¯s left is the division of chores. Duties rotate weekly between the quarters. For this first week, your quarter will be responsible digging.¡± ¡°Digging?¡± Aze asks. ¡°The tunnel,¡± Devlinn answers. ¡°You must have noticed it when we entered the fort.¡± A Norwikker tilts his head. ¡°A tunnel to what?¡± ¡°Ieli,¡± answers a new voice. Chass enters the dim room, and the soldiers with us snap to attention. The tenant nods to them and looks back to the Norwikker. ¡°This is the weakest spot in the border between Awnia and Ieli, which is why we built our outpost here. The mountain range is expansive on either side of Hollow Peak¡ªthis very mountain¡ªbut here there is only one mountain between our countries. Grand General Ambritten wants to ensure protection for our lands from an Ielic invasion, so he began work on a tunnel through this mountain.¡± ¡°They¡¯ve been hollowing out the mountain?¡± I breathe. Chass hears me when no one else seems to. ¡°The mountain was rather hollow to begin with,¡± he says. ¡°Hence its name. It was once a volcano, though its fires went out centuries ago. All we must do is follow the ancient paths left by the lava and break through the final wall. We¡¯ve been working for almost a year, but the tunnel is nearly completed. Your quarter may be the lucky ones to break through.¡± A cold feeling settles into my chest. ¡°And then we will invade?¡± The tenant hesitates. ¡°The tunnel is a precaution. We will only use it if we are attacked first.¡± His voice has the same flat tone it had when he spoke to the fryrs¡ªas if he doesn¡¯t believe his own words. I frown at him, but he just looks over the quarter and announces, ¡°Put on your padded shirts. You can wear them over your clothes for the added warmth. Then take a spear and report to the field to swear your oath.¡± Aze shoots me a relieved look while I watch Chass leave. His comment about wearing the shirts over our clothes had been for me, I¡¯m sure of it¡ªa way to protect my identity without calling attention to me. Maybe I¡¯ve made a friend after all. Chass is waiting in the field when we finish dressing, standing beside a black banner and two other men. One, a middle-aged man in an impeccable, grand uniform, stares over the group with his arms behind his back, chin tilted up and eyes set in a hooded glare. The other wears a shirt of chainmail and the same black cloak Chass wears. Both have pale skin, the kind you can only get by staying out of the sun. When Chass stands beside them, his wind-burned face is like a red maple against a field of snow. When we are settled into rows, the man in the middle lifts his hand for silence. ¡°I am Captain Oristel,¡± he calls. His voice doesn¡¯t carry as well as Chass¡¯s, but the quarters still to listen. ¡°During your time here, you will report to either Tenant Gryfalkr or to Tenant Tyrr, who will in turn report to me.¡± He gestures to the two men as he speaks, and I study the other tenant curiously. Tenant Tyrr is a few years older than Chass, with pale hair and small eyes that dart between the ranks of villagers as if searching for prey. ¡°Tenant Gryfalkr will direct your training,¡± Oristel goes on. ¡°And Tenant Tyrr will oversee your chores. Any disobedience will be swiftly and harshly punished.¡± He punctuates this threat with another glare, lingering distastefully on a group of young men who had been whispering in the front row. ¡°Gryfalkr,¡± he grunts, and Chass steps forward. ¡°This banner is the standard of our unit,¡± he says, nodding at the heavy cloth draped over a wooden frame. A single white triangle stands point-up on a field of black, edged in silver trim. Beneath the triangle, the words First North Infantry are embroidered in white thread. ¡°When we go into battle, this is the banner you will follow. It represents Captain Oristel¡¯s command, and, by extension, the Grand General¡¯s. It is never to touch the ground, never to suffer misuse. Look to it for strength and inspiration in difficulty.¡± Glancing at Aze, I open my mouth to make a joke about a piece of cloth providing strength, but his eyes are bright with enthusiasm. ¡°Repeat the words of your oath and swear your fealty,¡± Chass goes on. He pauses for effect, and then shifts to face the banner. ¡°I pledge my arm to Grand General Ambritten, in the defense and strength of Awnia.¡± The assembly echoes Chass¡¯s words, but I only stare at him. This is a pledge to serve the Grand General, not Awnia. Chass sweeps his gaze over us and settles on me as if sensing my thoughts. His stare urges me to speak. ¡°Never make promises,¡± Edlan said. With his eyes still on me, Chass goes on. ¡°I pledge my obedience to Grand General Ambritten, for the expansion and preservation of Awnia.¡± A chill crawls down my spine, like spiders on my skin. ¡°I pledge my life to Grand General Ambritten, to the service and glory of Awnia,¡± Chass says. I open my mouth, but don¡¯t echo the words shouted around me. It feels like there should be more of a celebration, something to mark the oath, but Captain Oristel just motions for Chass to step back and continues his address. ¡°Here you will be trained to fulfill the roles most conductive to your skills,¡± he says. ¡°First spears, then perhaps more if you show the aptitude for it. But the most coveted soldier in battle is not a swordsman or an archer or even an officer. It is a Wordweaver.¡± My breath hitches. Aze goes still beside me. ¡°This soldier is crucial for the defense of our great country,¡± the captain goes on. ¡°Wordweavers are rare, but their service is essential to our cause. We are fortunate to have had a Wordweaver posted to this fort two years ago.¡± He nods to the right, and I turn to see a gray-haired man at the front of the other soldiers¡ªthe one who had been looking over our quarter during the meal, while I was searching for others who might have felt the crayfish feeling. Once again, his eyes scan the crowd, searching, and I hide shamelessly in Aze¡¯s shadow. ¡°Ieldran blesses us,¡± Oristel goes on in a dull voice. ¡°And has seen fit to send us another Wordweaver.¡± Nausea spikes through my stomach and threatens to crawl up my throat. Chass betrayed me. Chapter Eight How could I have been so stupid? I¡¯d thought myself immune to the tenant¡¯s charms, but I let myself be deceived by soft blue eyes and the wistfulness in his voice when he¡¯d given me his nickname. Stupid, stupid, stupid. All the years of secrecy, the lies, the meticulous training¡ªall of it wasted in a single, stupid decision. I wait for the captain¡¯s next move, for him to call my name and demand I step forward. But he only stands there, staring out over us like a spider surveying its web. Beside him, Chass is looking at everyone but me. ¡°Well?¡± Captain Oristel says. ¡°Which of you is it? Step forward.¡± Then Chass didn¡¯t tell? Or he told them there is a Wordweaver, but not who it is? I search the group, trying to calm the sick swirling in my stomach, but nobody speaks. Captain Oristel¡¯s stare turns into a glower. ¡°You have been given an order from your commanding officer. Step forward, now!¡± ¡°Captain,¡± Chass says when no one moves. ¡°Let me question the recruits. I¡¯m sure I can find the Wordweaver.¡± ¡°See that you do, Tenant,¡± Oristel growls. ¡°It is no small thing to ignore a direct order.¡± He gives us one last glare before turning on his heel and disappearing through a door near the gatehouse. ¡°Explain their duties,¡± Chass says to the other tenant. ¡°But keep them in the yard. Hothram will begin the training when you are finished. Send them to me one at a time for questioning.¡± The tenant inclines his head, but something about the gesture seems mocking. Chass turns away and follows the captain, leaving Tenant Tyrr in command. ¡°Each quarter will be responsible for their share of work,¡± Tyrr says. His voice is a reedy reddish yellow, like pebbles in a shallow brook. ¡°Quarters one and two will begin with cutting and gathering wood, while quarters three and four work in the tunnel. When you are not learning to fight, you will be working.¡± He pauses to eye one of the villagers, a Norwikk boy who can¡¯t be older than twelve. ¡°The work is part of your training. It will make you strong.¡± A few of the soldiers snicker, but not the gray-haired Wordweaver. He has given up his search and is listening to Tyrr with an expression of intense boredom on his face. ¡°Hothram,¡± Tenant Tyrr says, nodding to a soldier beside the Wordweaver. ¡°I can do nothing more if we keep them in the yard, so you might as well start your practicing.¡± He points to the man at the end of the first row and gestures to where Chass has just ducked into a room on the southern wall. He doesn¡¯t speak, but his dismissive wave is enough of an order to send the man scurrying across the yard. ¡°Partner up!¡± Hothram yells, stepping out of rank and moving to take Tenant Tyrr¡¯s place. The tenant turns away, and I lose sight of him as the recruits spread out across the yard. Hothram coaches us through drills for footwork and sparring, but my attention is not on the lessons. Anxiety gnaws a hole in the pit of my stomach that seems to grow larger with every passing moment. Aze and I try to drift to the edge of the group, but there are too many people around us to risk a conversation. It doesn¡¯t matter¡ªI can read the panic in his eyes. And, blurred at the edge of his concern, accusation. This never would have happened if you had just stayed home. But it doesn¡¯t make sense. I¡¯m sure Chass had been sincere when he promised to keep my secret¡ªthere had been no sickly green in his voice, no hint that he¡¯d been untruthful. He may have changed his mind, but he didn¡¯t lie. So what happened? ¡°You,¡± grunts Tenant Tyrr, appearing a few steps away and pointing at me. ¡°Your turn. Then your friend.¡± Shooting what I hope is a reassuring look to Aze, I hurry across the yard and knock awkwardly at Chass¡¯s door. ¡°Close the door behind you,¡± Chass says in a deep, official voice. I do, trying not to let my worry show on my face, but his eyes soften as they meet mine. He beckons me in and moves to stand beside the window. The room is small and sparsely furnished, barely allowing enough space for the bed, trunk, and desk tucked under a tiny window. Chass looms over the furniture, a tree over weeds. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he says. ¡°I swear to you, I said nothing.¡± Relief drains me of my strength, and I sink onto the end of his bed and close my eyes. ¡°What happened?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t you sense it?¡± Chass asks. I look up at him, frowning. ¡°Sense what?¡± ¡°The other Wordweaver.¡± Chass searches my face, folding his arms and leaning against the door. ¡°Brayam. He said he could sense another Wordweaver as soon as we entered the fort, though he can¡¯t pinpoint who it is. You didn¡¯t sense him when you arrived?¡± The itchiness. It¡¯s still there, faint but persistent, like a sunburn on the inside of my skin. ¡°I didn¡¯t know what it was. I¡¯ve never met another Wordweaver.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t know Wordweavers had that ability,¡± Chass admits. ¡°It complicates things.¡± The panic surges back. ¡°You¡¯re not going to¡ª¡± ¡°No, I¡¯m not going to turn you in.¡± Chass pushes away from the door, pacing the length of the room in two steps. ¡°I gave you my word, and I won¡¯t go back on it. But whether I give you up or not, eventually you will be found out. It would be better for you if you went to Captain Oristel yourself. We can come up with a reason for why you didn¡¯t step forward earlier.¡± ¡°Would he let me be a healer?¡± I ask, fighting to control the spark of hope kindling in my chest. Chass¡¯s look kills it. ¡°All Wordweavers are sent to Andred for training before being assigned to a unit.¡± I swallow. ¡°Then¡­ you want me to become his killer?¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t think you could enlist in the army and not kill anyone, did you?¡± ¡°But I¡¯m an healer,¡± I argue. ¡°Can¡¯t I do that instead? Surely a Wordweaver who can heal would be just as valuable as one that can kill.¡± The look of pity on Chass¡¯s face stops my argument short. ¡°Healers are important,¡± he says hesitantly. ¡°Perhaps I can persuade the captain.¡± His tone makes it clear that he has little hope of success, and my heart sinks. ¡°Is there no other way?¡± ¡°None that I can think of.¡± My gaze sinks under the weight of my misery, settling on the floor as the hopelessness of my situation presses around me. I really have been unforgivably stupid. I never should have come. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to the captain,¡± Chass repeats, but his voice is bleak. ¡°Just stay quiet until then. I¡¯ll come up with something, Braids.¡± I furrow my brows, and Chass gives me a small smile. ¡°It¡¯s better than Fraele Solln, isn¡¯t it? I have to call you something, and I can¡¯t use your real name. Not that I think you¡¯d tell me your real name.¡± ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I?¡± ¡°Would you?¡± His eyebrows quirk up, but his voice sounds as tired as I feel. ¡°Then perhaps I won¡¯t ask. It preserves the mystery.¡± I snort. ¡°What mystery?¡± ¡°A healer who joins the army,¡± Chass says. ¡°A female healer who joins the army. A female Wordweaver¡ª¡± ¡°Fine,¡± I interrupt. ¡°What about you? A tenant who agrees to keep a secret from his commanders is just as mysterious. You say you owe me a life debt, but¡­¡± I stop, afraid to say more and convince him he shouldn¡¯t be helping me after all. ¡°But?¡± he prompts, resting his shoulder against the wall next to his bed. I have to crane my neck back to look up at him, taking in his height as my eyes move upward. ¡°But you¡¯re putting yourself at risk,¡± I finish lamely. ¡°If the captain finds out you¡¯ve hidden me from him, won¡¯t you be punished?¡± ¡°Severely,¡± Chass says. He takes in my crestfallen expression and laughs. ¡°I would be reprimanded, but likely little else would come from it. I have friends in high places that will afford me a little protection. You needn¡¯t worry about me.¡± I look down at my bare hands, tracing the pattern of scars over my palms. ¡°What should I do?¡± ¡°Nothing,¡± Chass says. ¡°Not yet. Go back out and follow whatever orders you¡¯re given, and I¡¯ll find you when I have more news to tell.¡± He flashes me a quick grin, a glimpse of the confident, charismatic tenant who charmed my family only days ago. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Braids. I¡¯ll take care of it.¡± But I do worry. I¡¯m worried when I return to the yard, and I stay worried when Aze goes to be questioned, and when Kjerrin and his sparring partner drift closer after Aze returns. I¡¯m so distracted that I don¡¯t even notice who his partner is until he starts talking. I snap up my head, wide eyes taking in the beaming face of the last person I want standing next to me. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Say hello to your new quarter-mate,¡± Bronhold grins. ¡°I got permission to switch into your group. I did promise to keep an eye on you, didn¡¯t I, Aze?¡± I pull my scarf higher on my throat, working to even out my shallow breathing. ¡°Bronhold,¡± Aze says, flashing a look at me. ¡°This is my cousin from Norwikk. Brennr, this is Bronhold.¡± I glance up. Bronhold gives me a pleasant nod of greeting before sweeping his attention back to Aze. ¡°That was quite the to-do, wasn¡¯t it?¡± he says. Kjerrin knocks a half-hearted attack away. ¡°A Wordweaver, here! Who do you think it is?¡± ¡°One of the men from Norwikk,¡± Aze says. He knocks his spear against mine, his voice spiking green with unfeigned enthusiasm as he changes the subject. ¡°Can you believe we¡¯re here? In a real fort?¡± ¡°What do you think the rest of the village would say of us?¡± Kjerrin asks. ¡°I just hope they aren¡¯t too heartbroken,¡± Bronhold sighs. ¡°Ynria was pretty upset when I told her I was leaving.¡± I almost drop my spear. ¡°She cried, poor thing,¡± he goes on. ¡°Couldn¡¯t imagine life without me. But she promised to wait for me to return.¡± ¡°My Britte said the same thing,¡± Kjerrin says. ¡°Not that I can be too worried, with all the men here with us.¡± I fume silently, my eyes boring into my clumsy weapon. Aze makes a slow attack, and my block is hard enough to make him grunt. ¡°What about you, Brennr?¡± Kjerrin asks. ¡°Did you leave a girl back home?¡± I shake my head, pretending to be intensely focused on my footwork. ¡°Anyone who¡¯s already been questioned by Gryfalkr,¡± yells Tenant Tyrr, unwittingly saving me from the conversation. ¡°Return your spears. You, you, and you,¡± he says, pointing to Aze, Bronhold, and Darr, a Vallegat boy who stands as tall as Aze. ¡°Report to Hothram for training. The rest of you will work until we lose the daylight.¡± Disappointed looks fly between Kjerrin and a few others, but I¡¯m not surprised at being excluded. I¡¯m far too small to make a good warrior, even if I had the inclination. We return our spears while Tenant Tyrr surveys us like a farmer assessing a stunted crop. ¡°Your task is simple, but imperative,¡± the tenant says. ¡°Your tools are in the tunnel, and they are not to leave the tunnel. You will work until sundown.¡± He leads the way across the yard, into the mouth of the tunnel waiting to swallow us up. Torches light the way down the corridor, which twists as though following the path of an enormous earthworm. ¡°Lava trails,¡± whispers a man from Norwikk. ¡°I¡¯ve seen ¡®em in our mines. The lava cuts through the rock and leaves these tunnels behind.¡± Fragments of glassy black rock streak across the walls, reflecting the firelight and throwing our shadows as we pass. After what feels like hours, the tunnel opens into a cavern, its rock ceiling arching overhead as high as the Kynstett¡¯s main hall before picking up again in a tunnel on the other side. The space is as long as the training yard we just left, and nearly half as wide, hidden in pools of darkness between torches. Near the center of the cavern, the floor dips down into a pool of water, with one side sloping gently like a smooth rock beach. Wheelbarrows, shovels, and picks stand before the pool, waiting for workers. For us. ¡°Welcome to the Phoenix Nest,¡± Tenant Tyrr announces. ,His voice takes on a pale yellow color as it bounces off the smooth floor and walls. ¡°Named by our own Tenant Gryfalkr. Apparently some local myth features a phoenix burying himself in the mountain for three days as a tribute to Kuollsell.¡± His words are a scarlet sneer, and I watch the villagers bristle against them. It isn¡¯t a local myth¡ªwhen the world was overrun by the minions of Kuollsell, death-watchman and gatekeeper to the lands of the dead, Ieldran took on the form of a Phoenix and made a bargain to save humankind. If Kuollsell would withdraw his forces to the realm of the dead, the Phoenix would deliver himself into their hands. Thinking he could kill the Phoenix and return to the world afterwards, Kuollsell accepted. He and his minions tortured the Phoenix for days before finally landing the killing blow, and they were instantly banished from the world. Humanity mourned the loss and buried the Phoenix in the middle of the mountain pass near where Vallegat now lies. But after three days, when the demons grew strong enough to return, the Phoenix was reborn and fought them off at the gates of the realm of the dead. Kuollsell was defeated and sealed in the lands of the dead for eternity, leaving humankind in peace at last. The legend is the basis of faith that all men in Awnia and Ieli share¡ªthat I thought everyone shared. Apparently Tyrr does not. ¡°Interestingly,¡± Tenant Tyrr goes on. ¡°You stand a mere stone¡¯s throw from Ieli, could you pass through rock. We estimate only a hundred yards or fewer stand between us and fresh air. Has anyone here had experience with mining?¡± A few Norwikk hands go up, and the tenant nods. ¡°You will lead the groups, then. Explain how fire-setting works. We have some timbers for support, but so far we haven¡¯t needed them. There will be three groups: the first will set and tend the fire while the second and third fetch water. When it¡¯s time to douse the flames, group two will bring in the water while groups one and three clear out the rubble. Then group three will take over shoveling while groups one and two deposit the rock there.¡± He gestures to a pile of rock against the far side of the cavern. ¡°No breaks. Get started.¡± He splits us into three groups, and I¡¯m thankful to be placed with Kjerrin in group three. One of the Norwikk miners describes the process of fire-setting while the first group gets to work in the tunnel. We haul in kindling already stacked beside the pool and set it ablaze against the rock wall, heaping more fuel on it until the air crackles with heat. Then group two comes in with buckets of water, dashing them against the flames and sending hissing clouds of steam through the tunnel. The sudden cooling splits the rock, and we rush in with our picks and wheelbarrows to clear the debris away. In minutes I am soaked with sweat, my hair hanging in damp strings and dripping into my eyes. Most of the men strip off their shirts, baring chests that gleam in the torchlight. I push down my envy and roll up my sleeves, unable to do any more to cool off. My muscles ache with the unfamiliar work, but at least I¡¯m only on wheelbarrow duty¡ªthe others in my group took one look at my stick arms and weak back and laughed away the thought of my carrying rocks. Kjerrin, strong from a lifetime of farm chores, loads the wheelbarrows with the steaming chunks of rock in terse silence. Everything is done in silence, except for the occasional direction from one of the miners. This is not what anyone expected from life as a soldier. Hour after miserable hour drags by, and Tenant Tyrr holds to his promise that there will be no breaks. He allows us to drink from the water barrels set up near the pool as long as he does not feel we¡¯re spending too much time there, but otherwise we must be in the tunnel or wheeling rocks away from it. After the first fire is lit, he tells anyone not tending it to pick at the tunnel walls, chipping away any loose rock and widening the path. No one is idle. No one dares complain. ¡°At least the cavern is right here,¡± mumbles one of the Norwikk men as he loads up my barrow. ¡°Open air, you know. I lost a cousin in a mine a few years back. They broke into a pocket of bad air and it killed the lot of them before they could get out. Fifteen men, gone in minutes.¡± I swallow and try not to think of what could be hiding behind the walls and the hungry fire. By the time Tenant Tyrr calls for us to pack up our tools and get ready to leave, I am a stinking mess of dirt and sweat. The villagers reluctantly drag their shirts back over their heads, trapping the grime against their skin. We trudge back through the lava-hollowed tunnels, the chill air freezing sweat to skin as we leave the Phoenix Nest behind. I can¡¯t believe I already miss the heat of the cavern. Must the temperature always be extreme? Is a middling warmth with a slight breeze too much to ask for? Ieldran help me... it hasn¡¯t even been a day. Exactly how long are we expected to do this? It¡¯s dark by the time we reach the fort, and Tenant Tyrr directs us to get our meal while the food is still hot. I¡¯d rather drop into my bunk and go without the meal, but since that doesn¡¯t seem to be an option, I follow the line of men into the mess hall, collect my tray of unnamable meat and oats, and collapse at a table with the rest of my quarter. Aze, Bronhold, and Darr are waiting for us, already half finished with their meals. There is no lively speculation now¡ªno discussion at all. The others eat as though it takes all their strength to chew. The meat is tough enough that it might. I finish quickly and look at Aze, who downs the rest of his ale and stands. ¡°I¡¯m turning in,¡± he announces. The others give weak waves, their attention on their plates. I follow my brother, eager to hear about his time spent training, to lose myself in the familiar grass green of his voice and the inevitable embellishments of his story. But when we leave the mess hall, a hand touches my shoulder and holds me back. ¡°A word,¡± Chass whispers, beckoning me toward the shadows against the wall. I wave Aze ahead, though he walks slowly and keeps glancing back at us as he goes. Chass watches him with a small smile. ¡°I watched him train. He shows promise.¡± ¡°Is that what you wanted to tell me?¡± ¡°No. I¡¯ve spoken with Captain Oristel. I think I¡¯ve bought us some time.¡± ¡°What did you say?¡± Chass leans his shoulder against the wall. ¡°I suggested the Wordweaver may not be aware of his own power.¡± ¡°Did he believe you?¡± ¡°It certainly wasn¡¯t the answer he wanted to hear, but as I was unable to tell him who the Wordweaver is, he has no choice but to accept it.¡± ¡°Then I¡¯m safe?¡± ¡°Not exactly.¡± Chass exhales slowly, folding his arms over his chest. ¡°The captain has ordered for tests to be conducted on the new recruits. He hopes the Wordweaver may be prompted into discovering his power.¡± ¡°Tests?¡± I echo uncertainly. ¡°Yes. I¡¯m not sure what form the tests will take, so don¡¯t bother asking. But that¡¯s not the worst part.¡± I resist the urge to ask what the worst part is while Chass glances toward the empty yard. ¡°I will not be the one administering the tests. That pleasure will fall to Tenant Tyrr.¡± I scowl. ¡°I see you¡¯ve formed the same opinion of him as I have,¡± Chass says, his voice dulled by a dark violet blue. ¡°His father got him his rank¡ªnot that I can talk¡ªbut since Tyrr¡¯s promotion to overseer of the workforce, he¡¯s been... unpleasant. He¡¯s unsuited to any position of power, but especially to that one. Your group is the third¡ª¡± He breaks off awkwardly. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Never mind. It¡¯s nothing.¡± ¡°Chass.¡± He blinks, a slight flush rising to his face. ¡°The third group we¡¯ve had to replace.¡± A hollow feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. ¡°That¡¯s why you came to the villages?¡± I say. ¡°Not for soldiers¡ªfor slaves?¡± ¡°Not slaves,¡± Chass says, but his voice is weak. ¡°The men are soldiers first and foremost.¡± ¡°Soldiers without a war to fight,¡± I say. ¡°Forced to do the work you can¡¯t risk the real soldiers to do.¡± ¡°Braids, please¡ª¡± ¡°How could you?¡± Fury seeps into my stomach, pulling the chill from the icy sweat on my skin and crawling toward my tongue, energy building and threatening my slipping control. He doesn¡¯t argue. He stands still in the face of my wrath, soft blue eyes tight with guilt. He offers no excuses. No solution. I could blast through the rest of the tunnel with a word, finish the work and free the villagers from their fates¡ªand then what? There would still be work to do, in another fort, with another Tyrr to oversee them, and I¡¯d be taken away as the Grand General¡¯s new weapon. My anger fades under the weight of exhaustion and despair. ¡°What can we do?¡± I whisper. Chass looks at me, his gaze settling over my frozen skin like a blanket. ¡°Survive,¡± he answers. ¡°For how long?¡± ¡°Until we can¡¯t anymore. For now, you¡¯re safe. I¡¯ll do my best to keep it that way.¡± Survive. Is that really all we have left? I return to my brother in a daze, swallowing back the frustrated tears burning in my throat. Aze watches me approach, waiting like a watchdog at the barracks door. ¡°What was that about?¡± he asks, frowning at Chass¡¯s shadow as he makes his way back to his quarters. The barracks are empty, so we light the lanterns hanging inside and settle onto Aze¡¯s bunk. ¡°It¡¯s a long story,¡± I say, crossing my legs and leaning against the ladder to my bed. Aze waits, his face streaked with dirt and sweat. ¡°Go on.¡± ¡°It started with the wolf attack...¡± Chapter Nine The testing starts in the morning. We gather in the yard, where Aze, Bronhold, and the other men receiving actual training are ordered into formation with the soldiers. Tenant Tyrr herds the rest of us into the tunnel, and we make the long, dark walk to the Phoenix Nest in silence. An incessant itching on the back of my neck tells me the Wordweaver Brayam has joined us, but I don¡¯t see him until we start the fire-setting. He stands beside Tyrr, his arms folded as he watches us work, an expression of intense boredom on his face. They make no announcement, no explanation to let us know what they¡¯re doing. They just quietly pull a man at a time away from his work, leaving another soldier in charge while they disappear around a curve in the cavern wall. After a while, the men return with bewildered expressions to resume their work. One of them, a dark-haired Norwikker with a birthmark on his forehead, whispers a report to our group as we load rocks into our wheelbarrows. ¡°They¡¯re trying to find the Wordweaver,¡± he says, leaning over the broken stones and beckoning us closer. ¡°They had me try all sorts of things¡ªsetting fire, smoothing the edges of a rock, healing a cut. Why d¡¯you think the Wordweaver¡¯s staying hidden?¡± ¡°He may be new,¡± suggests another Norwikker. ¡°My grandfather used to tell me about a Wordweaver he met during the Coastal Wars. He figures he was blessed by the Phoenix during battle, but he didn¡¯t figure out he had the power until six months had passed.¡± ¡°Maybe it happened during the wolf attack?¡± Kjerrin says. The sound of a whip cracks a few paces away, startling us away from each other. ¡°Keep working!¡± shouts the soldier in charge. ¡°No talking!¡± We eat a meager meal when Tenant Tyrr decides it¡¯s close to midday, and then continue our work for the rest of the afternoon. I can¡¯t decipher the pattern they¡¯re using to question us¡ªthey seem to call us out at random, and my anxiety builds the longer I wait. It should be simple enough to pass the Wordweaving test by just not calling up the power, but I¡¯m not sure how much Brayam will be able to sense. There¡¯s nothing about this in the fryrs¡¯ notes. Three other Brennrs are called before I¡¯m summoned. It¡¯s Brayam who shouts my borrowed name, his voice a scarlet slash through my composure. My heart freezes¡ªthrobs¡ªstutters to life again. I clutch the handles of the wheelbarrow I was pushing in my gloved hands. ¡°Brennr Hirdinn,¡± Kjerrin muses. ¡°I knew a man with that name. He died last year.¡± I clear my throat, but one of the Norwikkers answers before I can. ¡°I know half a dozen Hirdinns. My sister married¡ª¡± ¡°No talking!¡± repeats the head soldier. Kjerrin flashes me a tired smile as he bends to lift a chunk of rock. ¡°Take your time, Brennr. This¡¯ll likely be our only break today.¡± I wish I could take his advice, but my heart is pounding too wildly to enjoy the respite. I make my way toward the alcove where Tyrr and Brayam wait, taking in deep breaths of smoky air to calm myself. I left my cloak on my bunk, so I have nothing to hide my face. I¡¯ll have to rely on the grime and Mjera¡¯s haircut to disguise me. I turn the corner into the alcove and find three barrels set up around an unlit firepit. Tenant Tyrr is perched on one barrel and Brayam takes a seat on another, leaving the third for me. ¡°Quickly,¡± Tyrr says when I hesitate. ¡°Sit down, boy, we don¡¯t have all day.¡± I hurry to the empty barrel and sit uneasily. ¡°What is your age?¡± Tyrr asks in a bored tone. ¡°Nineteen years.¡± He flicks his gaze over me doubtfully. ¡°And no beard?¡± ¡°I... prefer to shave.¡± Tyrr frowns. ¡°I see. And where are you from?¡± ¡°Vallegat, sir. In the Phoenix Valley.¡± ¡°The Phoenix Valley.¡± His voice is wrapped in a filmy, distrusting yellow, like pond scum clinging to the surface of his words. ¡°How long have you lived there?¡± I try to keep the confusion from my face. Aren¡¯t we supposed to be testing for Wordweaving? ¡°I¡¯ve lived there my whole life.¡± ¡°Have you experienced any recent injuries which may have resulted in your acquiring the Phoenix¡¯s Blessing?¡± ¡°No, sir.¡± ¡°No broken bones?¡± Tyrr presses. ¡°Cuts? Sicknesses?¡± ¡°No, sir.¡± He hums. ¡°Tell me about your family.¡± My stomach gives a nauseating roll. My family or Mjera¡¯s? If he checks my information against the census, he¡¯ll be able to see who Brennr¡¯s siblings and parents were. ¡°I have two brothers and a sister,¡± I say, fidgeting. ¡°My father died when I was seven, but my mother is a skilled shepherdess. She took over the herd.¡± Tyrr glances at Brayam, who gives a tiny shake of his head. A wash of icy dread sinks through me. Can Brayam see colors in voices, too? I¡¯ve always assumed it was a trait connected to my Wordweaving, but there¡¯s nothing about it in the fryrs¡¯ research. Of course, their notes were all taken about Wordweavers, not by them. If Brayam can tell I¡¯m lying, then¡­ ¡°Start a fire,¡± Tyrr says. I suck in a breath and look at the fire pit. Someone has already piled kindling and sticks together, giving me plenty of fuel. I swallow and try in an innocent voice, ¡°I haven¡¯t any flint.¡± ¡°Speak it into being,¡± Tyrr says impatiently. I look at the kindling and open my mouth, but Brayam stops me. ¡°Remove your gloves,¡± he directs. ¡°Touch the wood and speak directly to it.¡± Slowly, I pull off the gloves Chass gave me to replace the ones I ruined in the wolf attack, careful to keep my scarred palms facing my body. I kneel beside the pit and place my fingers on the kindling, clear my throat, and say, ¡°Start a fire.¡± A flood of energy leaps to my tongue, but I hold it there. There is no burst of golden light, no spark of flame from my fingertips¡ªnot even a hint of fennel on my lips. Nothing happens. No one stirs. I hold my breath. ¡°You may rejoin the others,¡± Tyrr says. For a heartbeat, I stay where I am. Brayam knows I¡¯m lying. They both do, don¡¯t they? Why would they let me return? Why not push to make me reveal my secrets? ¡°Go,¡± Tyrr says, sternly. I scramble to my feet and hurry away. The scrape of Brayam¡¯s boots follows me to the edge of the alcove, where his russet voice calls out a new name. They¡¯re going to keep questioning the others? It must be my identity they suspect, then. When we return to the fort, Tyrr will check my answers against the census and turn me over to Captain Oristel. It¡¯s over. My heartbeat thrashes against my ribcage, trapped with all my fear and helplessness. I keep my head down as I hurry to my group, pulling my gloves back onto my sweating hands and trying to control my rising panic. ¡°I guess that means you¡¯re not the Wordweaver,¡± Kjerrin says when I grab the waiting wheelbarrow. ¡°Pity. You could have finished the work for us.¡± I let out a breathy, half-hysteric laugh and get back to work. By the time Tyrr calls for us to stop working for the day, I¡¯ve worried myself into an anxious, hopeless mess. Kjerrin and a few of the more optimistic Norwikkers try joking as we stack our tools and trudge back to the fort, but I keep my eyes on Tyrr and Brayam. When we exit the close air of the tunnel into the evening chill, I wait to hear my name shouted over the assembly. It doesn¡¯t happen. I follow my quarter to supper, where we meet up with Aze and Bronhold. I make myself eat, not knowing when my next meal might be if I am forced to leave. I stumble on trembling legs back to the barracks, where I whisper a summary of the questioning to Aze. I fall into my bunk, resigned to face my fate in the morning. But when the morning comes, the bugles rouse us like normal, and Tyrr leads us into the tunnel without a glance in my direction. Brayam doesn¡¯t join us, and we work without interruption for the rest of the day. I manage to catch Chass¡¯s attention during the evening meal, but when he meets me in the yard before bed, he tells me that my secret is safe and that Tyrr doesn¡¯t suspect. ¡°But he knows I was lying,¡± I insist. ¡°Brayam could tell.¡± Chass shakes his head. ¡°Tyrr had a theory, but I disproved it. You¡¯re in no danger.¡± He will tell me nothing more, and I return to the barracks in hesitant relief. A week passes. I think I feel Tyrr¡¯s gaze a few times in the tunnel, but he never approaches me. He and Brayam finish their questioning, and nothing more is said about the hidden Wordweaver. Chass passes me a message through Aze to assure me that Captain Oristel has given up the search¡ªChass convinced him the Wordweaver must be incredibly weak not to recognize his power. It¡¯s more than I had hoped for, so I thank the Phoenix for his protection and focus on my work in the tunnel. Aze and a handful of other villagers are spared from the work, instead focusing their attentions on learning to be real soldiers. Chass takes over their training, and Aze tells me he¡¯s a good teacher. I wish the rest of us could benefit from it as well. When we¡¯re not in the tunnel, we gather wood for the fire-setting and stack it in the Phoenix Nest. Sometimes a few of us are sent to help in the kitchens or elsewhere around the fort, but as soon as those tasks are finished we return to the tunnel. Everything goes back to the tunnel. After the second week, I lose hope that we¡¯ll receive any training at all. Tyrr claims he¡¯ll send groups of us back to Chass when we¡¯ve made enough progress in the tunnel, but the days slip by and his promise goes unfulfilled. I don¡¯t see Chass again after his assurances that I¡¯m safe, but Aze passes a few messages between us as the week wears on. They¡¯re comforting at first¡ªpromises that Chass is keeping an eye on Tyrr, and that his suspicions have nothing to do with the secrets I¡¯m hiding. Then they stray to more personal topics. Chass sends Aze back with notes written in simple Saani, asking me to respond in the same language so he can practice. In halting phrases, they tell about his favorite things, his interest in mountain cultures, the pressures he feels as an only son. He asks for my thoughts on his overly competitive sister, who he hasn¡¯t seen in months, but who continues to send challenging letters while they¡¯re apart. He even confesses to a fear of thunder after a night of storms. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. At the end of the second week, I wake to find my monthly bleeding has started. I sign a jerking explanation to Aze as the bugle wakes the rest of the barracks and rummage through Edlan¡¯s bag for dried red moss and wool. Aze yawns as I stuff my supplies into my pockets and follows me into the yard, waving to a few of the soldiers already gathering for their drills. ¡°Are you going to be able to work today?¡± he asks in a low voice. ¡°I don¡¯t really have a choice.¡± He shrugs and lets the matter drop. Back home, I always spent the first day of my bleeding in the Kynstett, curled at the foot of Ieldran¡¯s altar with a cup of raspberry leaf tea to soothe my cramping muscles. Most women prefer to travel to the sorestry in Norwikk, where whole rooms are dedicated to the sacred monthly reminder of Ieldran¡¯s ability to create life. But Mjera and I favored the little-used alcove in the Kynstett¡¯s tower, with its high window and breathless, blessed quiet. There, pressing together beneath a blanket in the light of the open window, we would chant our praises and whisper our hopes to Ieldran¡¯s patient ears. An ache spreads through my chest. This will be the first time since I reached womanhood that I will spend my bleeding alone. Mjera¡¯s will be starting soon as well, if it hasn¡¯t already. Is she on her way to the Kynsyett now? Is she thinking of me, too? Aze stands guard at the door to the primitive outhouse, which is little more than a hole in the ground covered by a wooden seat. There¡¯s a bucket of rainwater in the corner for washing, and by the time I finish, I¡¯m feeling refreshed enough to face the new day. Until I open the door to find Tenant Tyrr waiting beside Aze. ¡°Hirdinn,¡± the tenant says, a harsh, contemptuous yellow streaking through his voice. ¡°You may be used to a relaxed morning routine where you¡¯re from, but here, you will be prompt. Am I understood?¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ¡°You will make up for your tardiness by carrying rocks instead of pushing the wheelbarrow,¡± Tyrr says. My stomach sinks. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ¡°Good.¡± Tyrr glances at Aze, who has stood at stiff attention during the exchange. ¡°Get your weapon, Solln. Tenant Gryfalkr is gathering the trainees.¡± Aze salutes and holds himself still while Tyrr stalks away. I slam the outhouse door and stomp after him, but Aze catches my arm. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he says in a rush. ¡°I tried to stall, but¡ª¡± I swat at him until he lets me go. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault. There wasn¡¯t much you could have done against him.¡± ¡°He doesn¡¯t like you,¡± Aze says, frowning. ¡°He kept asking how I knew you and what you did before coming here.¡± Panic freezes me in place. ¡°What did you say?¡± ¡°I said you were a shepherd,¡± Aze says. I let out a breath. ¡°Good. That¡¯s what I told him.¡± ¡°Just¡­ try to avoid him. He gives me a bad feeling.¡± Unfortunately, avoiding him isn¡¯t an option. He stands over me while I work, mocking my weakness and the fact that I won¡¯t take off my shirt like so many of the other men. Kjerrin, who has removed his shirt every other time we¡¯ve been in the tunnel, keeps his on in a surprising show of solidarity. He even winks at me when Tyrr turns his back to bark at another villager. ¡°Don¡¯t show him you¡¯re upset,¡± Kjerrin whispers when I stumble under the weight of a fallen stone. ¡°It¡¯ll only make it easier for him.¡± I blink away a sudden mist over my eyes and refocus my efforts. I¡¯ve only ever looked at Kjerrin as Aze¡¯s annoying friend¡ªI¡¯ve never seen this side of him. But all of Vallegat knew how his father could be when he was drinking, so maybe Kjerrin is speaking from experience. Maybe hardships can bring out more than the worst in people. I lose count of the date during the third week. The days blend in a blur of dirt and aching muscles, undistinguishable and monotonous. We get up, we work in the tunnel, we eat, we work in the tunnel, we sleep, we work in the tunnel. Some of the men try exaggerating injuries to get time off, but Tyrr is merciless. Everyone must work, he says, injured or not. Ieldran protects us and prevents anything serious, simultaneously blessing us and prolonging our suffering. I treat Kjerrin¡¯s sprained ankle with what little supplies I have, and then the pulled back muscles of a Norwikk man. Word spreads that I have knowledge of healing, and before long, my herbs and salve are gone. I muster the courage to ask Tyrr if there is more I can use, and am told that my job is to dig. ¡°Injured men will report to the infirmary,¡± he snaps. ¡°They are not your concern.¡± Any men who go to the infirmary are barely examined before they¡¯re pronounced able to return to work. I don¡¯t think there¡¯s even a real healer there. After my question, Tyrr brings extra soldiers whenever we work in the tunnel¡ªfor when we reach Ieli, he says. But they spend the long hours guarding the water barrels and shouting at us for working too slowly, and I feel their suspicious eyes whenever another villager speaks to me. Our progress is painfully slow. In more than a fortnight, we have still not broken through to the other side of the mountain. I doubt we ever will. We must have dug clean through to the gates of the spirit realm by now, and the death-watchman Kuollsell is toying with us by pushing more stones into our path while we sleep. ¡°So much for coming home as war heroes,¡± Kjerrin mumbles as we finish our evening meal. The skin on his face is grimy and drawn tight from bending over the fires. Bronhold stirs his food and speaks in a voice tinged green with guilt. ¡°It can¡¯t last forever. Eventually, they¡¯ll have to train everyone.¡± ¡°If we last that long.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t say that,¡± Aze says, sneaking a sidelong look at me. ¡°We all have people we want to go back to. You wouldn¡¯t give up on Ynria, would you, Bronhold?¡± ¡°The thought of her is all that keeps me going,¡± Bronhold says. I don¡¯t have the energy to scold either of them. Aze has been doing more of that lately¡ªtrying to tease us, making small jokes to keep our spirits up. Sometimes I appreciate the effort. Usually I just want to scream at Tyrr for making it necessary. We finish our meal and trail out into the yard. It¡¯s our quarter¡¯s turn to gather wood, and though it means a reprieve from Tenant Tyrr, no one is eager to begin the work. The harsh pale sun beats down on melting patches of snow, turning the yard to mud¡ªmud we¡¯ll have to push wheelbarrows through to bring fuel into the tunnel. ¡°Captain Oristel!¡± A soldier sprints through the opening of the tunnel, followed closely by another two, who drag a struggling man between them. His hair is dark, darker than any of the villagers except Aze, and he¡¯s dressed in forest greens rather than black and silver. His arms are bound behind his back with a length of rope wrapped up to his elbows, and a livid bruise is visible on his cheek even from here. Aze touches my shoulder, but I can only stare as they haul the poor man forward, unease shivering down my arms. Tenant Tyrr leads the first and second quarters out of the tunnel, and another pair of soldiers trail after, pushing a cart between them. It¡¯s the cart we use for transporting wood, and its high sides prevent me from seeing into it, but as they pass I glimpse a limp arm between the gaps in the plank siding. Captain Oristel emerges from his office, his expression as pinched and impatient as always. ¡°What is this?¡± Tenant Tyrr pushes to the front of the procession, stopping before the bound man and his guards. ¡°Captain,¡± he says, and my quarter presses closer to hear. ¡°We broke through the tunnel, sir. This Ielic soldier attacked us.¡± Captain Oristel surveys the prisoner. The door to Chass¡¯s quarters squeaks open, drawing my attention from the tense scene. Chass takes in the sight in moments and moves silently to stand beside the captain. ¡°How many Ielic?¡± Oristel says at last. ¡°Just him, sir. I believe he¡¯s a scout.¡± ¡°Casualties?¡± ¡°Two killed, and another two injured.¡± Oristel¡¯s expression sours. ¡°By him alone?¡± Tyrr nods. He gestures to his men, who shove the scout forward and drive him to his knees. Captain Oristel scowls down his nose at him. ¡°I am the commander of Fort Foltepp. You are trespassing on Awnian land. Your actions could be interpreted as an act of war.¡± ¡°I do not understand,¡± the scout says in Ielic. His voice is calm, and though it¡¯s pitched low, his words carry across the silent yard. Captain Oristel frowns and looks to Chass, who clears his throat. ¡°You are trespassing on Awnian land,¡± he says in accented Ielic. ¡°It is an act of war.¡± ¡°Trespassing?¡± the scout snorts. ¡°I was attacked on Ielic soil and forced onto Awnian land. Trespassing must have a different meaning in your country.¡± ¡°We have claimed the land on the other side of Hollow Peak as Awnian territory,¡± Chass says. ¡°Your claim means nothing,¡± counters the scout. ¡°You have constructed a means of invasion and attacked an Ielic soldier on Ielic soil. If war comes of this, it will be you who began it.¡± Chass translates his words, and Captain Oristel tips up his chin as if considering. ¡°Where is his base?¡± he asks. The scout only laughs when Chass repeats the question. ¡°Perhaps we were hasty in our judgement,¡± Chass says. ¡°Give us the location of your base and we will return you.¡± ¡°Release me and I will find my own way back.¡± Chass folds his hands behind his back. ¡°You killed Awnian soldiers. You must pay for that.¡± ¡°After you return me to my base?¡± the scout asks mockingly. Captain Oristel listens to Chass¡¯s translation, his scowl deepening. ¡°Bring him to the guardhouse,¡± he orders, sweeping toward the gates. The soldiers lift the scout to his feet and shove him across the yard, thrusting him into the guardhouse and locking the door behind him. He makes no noise, holding his head high even when they push him through the door. ¡°You are dismissed to your quarters,¡± Chass calls to the gathered quarters. ¡°Tyrr, post a guard at both ends of the tunnel.¡± Tyrr barks off an order to his soldiers while Chass follows the captain, his cloak brushing the mud at his feet. ¡°Come on,¡± Aze says, pulling me away with the rest of our group. An Ielic scout. His hair was as black as Aze¡¯s¡ªas black as Mama¡¯s¡ªand the image of it stays in my mind like a rock in my boot. A tight feeling spreads across my chest, hot and insistent as the itching Wordweaver-sense I still feel whenever Brayam is near. I reach up and touch the ring I¡¯d found in the storeroom, now looped through a cord around my neck and tucked beneath my shirt. I¡¯d meant to give it to Chass, but I haven¡¯t had the chance to talk to him in weeks. I thought maybe if I kept it on me I¡¯d be able to hand it over whenever the opportunity presented itself, but so far¡­ well, it hasn¡¯t. And after this, he¡¯ll have more to worry about than missing jewelry. ¡°What now?¡± Aze asks. Other murmured questions spread among the villagers as well, as if those first words broke a spell of silence and allowed them all to speak. ¡°Now we go back to our quarters,¡± I say. ¡°You know what I mean,¡± Aze says. ¡°Do you think we¡¯ll start the invasion earlier than we¡¯d expected?¡± The excitement in his voice chills me. I stare at him, but his eyes are on Kjerrin. ¡°They¡¯ll have to start training us all now,¡± Kjerrin says. Bronhold gives a sharp nod. ¡°Captain Oristel said it himself¡ªit¡¯s an act of war.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not an act of war,¡± I say, frowning at him. ¡°The scout was on his own land when he was attacked.¡± ¡°What was that?¡± I stiffen as Tenant Tyrr stalks into view, his arms folded behind his back the way Chass does when he¡¯s trying to be patient. It makes Tyrr look like a child copying an older brother. ¡°Nothing, Tenant,¡± I say. ¡°Repeat yourself, Hirdinn,¡± Tyrr insists. ¡°Or explain yourself. Are you saying the laws of the Grand General are wrong?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t realize it was a law,¡± I say. Tyrr leans over me. ¡°Anything the Grand General speaks is law. Captain Oristel is his officer, and therefore carries his authority. The captain declared it an act of war, and so it is. Is that understood?¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± He glares down at me, his small eyes glinting. ¡°If you don¡¯t watch what you say, someone might start to question your loyalties.¡± I nod, unsure of how else to answer. ¡°There are traitors everywhere,¡± Tyrr says, looking out over the rest of the quarter. ¡°You¡¯ve heard the rumors, haven¡¯t you? That one of the Ryvenlock princes escaped when the Grand General took command of Awnia. Some claim he¡¯s mounting a rebellion among the mountain dwellers.¡± He turns his stare back at me, his voice smooth. ¡°If I were you, I wouldn¡¯t want to say anything that could be misunderstood.¡± My heartbeat pounds like rain inside my chest. ¡°I meant nothing by it, sir.¡± He watches me a moment longer, searching for any other opening to attack, but when I¡¯m silent, he waves me toward the barracks. ¡°Get inside.¡± We scurry into the safety of the building and close the door behind us, shutting the tenant out. The others strike up quiet conversations, eyeing me uncomfortably as they move to their bunks. ¡°Why is he so interested in you?¡± Aze asks, dropping onto his flat mattress with a sigh. ¡°He¡¯s just a bully,¡± I mutter. ¡°And I¡¯m an easy target.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t give him any more reason to notice you. If he really could accuse you of supporting the missing prince...¡± ¡°How could I support a prince whose existence is nothing more than a rumor?¡± I ask impatiently. ¡°We don¡¯t know if he¡¯s still alive, or even which prince it is. And if he did survive and wanted to challenge the Grand General, wouldn¡¯t he have done it by now?¡± Aze shrugs. ¡°Just be careful. We have enough trouble without inviting more from Tyrr.¡± I snort and climb into my bunk. Maybe I did invite trouble by taking Arun¡¯s place, but since then I¡¯ve done my best to keep my head down. It isn¡¯t my fault Tyrr¡¯s taken such a strong dislike to me. ¡°Get some rest,¡± Aze says. ¡°Who knows when we¡¯ll get another break?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t try to be wise,¡± I grumble. His grass green laugh settles over me like a blanket, and I lie down beneath it and try to ignore the feeling that something terrible is about to happen. Chapter Ten A rattle at the door warns us before it opens, and Chass pokes his head inside. ¡°Brennr,¡± he says, his voice full of calm authority. I sit up, feeling all the eyes in the room follow me. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Come with me.¡± My face burning under the attention, I climb down my ladder and scurry after the tenant as he leads the way into the field. He doesn¡¯t speak again until he¡¯s ushered me into his quarters and closed the door behind us. ¡°I have a question,¡± he announces. I sit on the edge of his bed and wait. ¡°I¡¯m familiar with some kinds of Wordweaving,¡± he begins hesitantly, as if he¡¯s not sure how to voice what he¡¯s thinking. ¡°I know some Wordweavers are better suited to certain things. One I knew was very good with elements¡ªfire, wind, that kind of thing. You obviously have a talent for healing.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I say, confused. I¡¯d thought he was going to talk to me about Tyrr¡¯s accusations. ¡°Why do you ask?¡± ¡°I know Wordweavers can only do what is naturally possible for their target,¡± he goes on. ¡°You could not, for example, bring someone back from the dead or command a fish to become a bird.¡± The way he says it, with his blue eyes intent upon me, makes it seem more like a question than a statement. ¡°What do you want to know?¡± I ask. Chass leans his hip against his desk and crosses his arms. ¡°Captain Oristel thinks a Wordweaver can do what threats cannot. Can someone be made to speak when he doesn¡¯t wish to?¡± ¡°You mean the scout?¡± ¡°Speaking is natural,¡± Chass reasons. ¡°It¡¯s certainly within his powers to tell us what we want to know. It should be within the realm of your capabilities.¡± A flush of alarm spreads across my skin. ¡°You want me to do it?¡± ¡°Not you,¡± Chass says. ¡°Brayam.¡± I consider that. He might be able to do it if he focused on the subject¡¯s mind, on loosening his inhibitions and bending his will... ¡°You can¡¯t,¡± I say. ¡°It isn¡¯t possible?¡± I fidget under the serious look in his eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s possible or not. But forcing someone to speak... to betray his country...¡± ¡°It¡¯s no different than torturing him for information,¡± Chass points out. ¡°And, one might argue, far more humane.¡± ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have to tell you that torture is also wrong.¡± ¡°This is war, Braids. Sometimes you have to do things you don¡¯t agree with.¡± ¡°This isn¡¯t war.¡± My fingers clench at the filthy fabric of my jacket, twisting it in my hands. ¡°You said yourself that we were only on the brink of war, not that one had already been declared.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a technicality. Would you argue that these things were permissible if we were at war?¡± ¡°Of course not,¡± I huff. ¡°But at the very least, you should give the true reasons for your actions instead of hiding behind a fake one.¡± ¡°And what are my true reasons?¡± Chass asks in a low voice. I frown at him. ¡°How would I know?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t think much of your army, do you?¡± ¡°You mean my captors?¡± Chass winces. ¡°I know the work has been rough, but now that the tunnel is complete¡ª¡± ¡°Then Tyrr will find some other work for us to do. At least under King Ryvenlock¡¯s reign, we weren¡¯t enslaved by our own army.¡± ¡°Be careful, Braids,¡± Chass says. ¡°If the wrong person heard that, you¡¯d be punished.¡± ¡°What more can they do to me?¡± I snap. ¡°If the Grand General runs things the way Tyrr does, then he¡¯s a tyrant.¡± To my surprise, Chass laughs. ¡°I almost wish I could arrange a meeting with the Grand General so you could express your views to him yourself.¡± ¡°I would,¡± I say. The thought makes me go cold, and I¡¯m sure Chass sees right through my lie. I couldn¡¯t even stand up to Tenant Tyrr. But I can hardly back down now, so I straighten my spine and set my jaw and pretend I¡¯m not terrified at the thought of confronting the Grand General. ¡°Someone should tell him things are wrong, if he really doesn¡¯t know.¡± ¡°And if he does?¡± My resolve withers, but I try to keep my expression fierce. ¡°Then I suppose I would be punished, wouldn¡¯t I? I couldn¡¯t expect justice from such a man.¡± ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right,¡± Chass says. He chuckles at the look on my face. ¡°Don¡¯t be afraid, Braids. I won¡¯t give you up to the fearsome Grand General. If you weren¡¯t thrown in a dungeon, you¡¯d likely be executed.¡± He pushes himself away from the desk, sighing. ¡°And I don¡¯t want that, so you needn¡¯t worry about me tattling on your extreme beliefs.¡± Something about his expression looks forced¡ªa tightness around his eyes, a crease between his brows. ¡°Why is that?¡± I ask quietly. ¡°You saved my life,¡± he says, as if the answer is obvious. ¡°That debt is repaid as long as you keep my secret.¡± ¡°Perhaps.¡± He gestures toward the door and looks away. ¡°There¡¯s much to do now. You can tell the others I was only asking about an injury you reported.¡± ¡°Let me come with,¡± I blurt. Chass pauses with his hand on the door handle. ¡°Come with to what?¡± ¡°When you question the scout,¡± I rush on. ¡°You can say I¡¯m there as a messenger in case you need something.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Because...¡± Because the scout has hair like Aze. Because if he has to have his will ripped away, he should have someone there who is sympathetic to his suffering. ¡°I want to know if it will work.¡± Chass¡¯s eyes search mine, serious and steady and tired. ¡°Fine,¡± he says at last. ¡°But you must remain silent, whether you agree with the proceedings or not. If you can¡¯t promise that, I will toss you out for your own safety.¡± ¡°I will,¡± I say. ¡°Thank you, Chass.¡± A small smile touches his mouth as he turns back to the door. ¡°Then you may perform your first action as messenger and bring Brayam to the guardhouse. We¡¯ll conduct our experiment there.¡± I find Brayam in the dining hall, finishing off a mug of ale at a table with other off-duty soldiers. ¡°Excuse me,¡± I say gruffly, very aware of how my hands dangle limply at my sides. I want to reach up and scratch the back of my neck, but I try to appear casual. ¡°Tenant Gryfalkr has asked you to report to the guardhouse.¡± The other soldiers whistle and jeer while Brayam glowers at me. ¡°Now?¡± he grunts. The single syllable appears as a burst of blood-red, the color saturating his slurred word. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± His eyes fix on me, then on the mug of ale in his hand. A dozen empty ones are lined up in the middle of the table, and his friends snicker as they wait for him to stand. Finally he pushes back from the table and guzzles the rest of drink, slamming the empty mug down before them. ¡°If I disobey again, they¡¯ll take away the ale,¡± he growls, and the other soldiers cheer. I hurry through the door and make my way to the guardhouse. Brayam¡¯s footsteps are heavy behind me, sloshing through muddy snow without care for the mess he splashes up. No soldiers stand watch outside the guardhouse, but as we approach, I hear Chass¡¯s voice from within. ¡°This will go better for you if you simply tell me what I need to know,¡± he says in Ielic. ¡°I assume you know what Wordweavers are capable of.¡± There¡¯s no response. I take a slow, calming breath before knocking, and when Chass opens the door, my face is a mask of control. ¡°Come in,¡± Chass says. ¡°Brayam, I would like you to command the prisoner to tell us where his unit is.¡± The scout¡¯s eyes tighten, but otherwise he holds himself completely still. Brayam, on the other hand, lets out a burst of laughter. ¡°You think I can do that?¡± ¡°You will try,¡± Chass says. Brayam shrugs and steps before the scout, reaching out to set his fingers on the scout¡¯s lips. The scout bites him. I flinch as Brayam draws back his arm and punches the scout across his bruised cheek. The scout takes the blow silently, turning his head and spitting out a mouthful of blood before lifting his eyes back to Brayam¡¯s. ¡°Try that again,¡± Brayam snarls. ¡°And I¡¯ll light you on fire after the tenant gets what he wants from you.¡± The scout doesn¡¯t react, but when Brayam touches his lips again he keeps them closed. ¡°Ask your question, Tenant,¡± Brayam growls. Chass folds his hands behind his back. ¡°Where is your unit?¡± The scout is silent. Brayam takes a breath and a rusty red glow forms on his fingertips¡ªthe same color as his voice. I glance down at my own hands. Even after all this time, I don¡¯t know the color of my voice. I can hear the hues of different emotions in my words, but my voice itself doesn¡¯t sound like anything. But if Brayam¡¯s voice matches his energy, maybe mine does, too. Do the different colors mean something? Maybe some clue as to our distinct strengths? ¡°Speak,¡± he commands. His power jolts through me, reverberating in my bones, as different from mine as blood is from snow. The scout says nothing. ¡°Speak!¡± Brayam says again, but again nothing happens. ¡°Tell us where your unit is,¡± Chass puts in. ¡°Tell,¡± Brayam tries, shifting his fingers so his whole palm covers the scout¡¯s mouth. A burst of brown-red light pulses from him, but when he removes his hand, the Ielic¡¯s lips remain closed. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. ¡°I thought a Wordweaver could do anything that is naturally possible,¡± Chass says dryly. Brayam lifts his lip in a snarl. ¡°Wordweaving is like any other skill. You couldn¡¯t pick up a new weapon and become proficient without training, yet you expect me to master a new command on the first try?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have time to let you practice,¡± Chass says, opening the door. ¡°Leave us.¡± Brayam withdraws his hand, lip still curling, and stalks out of the guardhouse without a word. I move to follow, but Chass¡¯s lifted hand stops me. ¡°Not you,¡± he says quietly. ¡°Check him. Are his injuries serious?¡± I look from Chass to the scout, confused. Why does he care about the scout¡¯s health? ¡°Quickly,¡± he prompts. I shuffle toward the chair. There¡¯s no reaction from the scout; he simply continues to stare, his expression never changing. I study his face first, searching for any sign of broken bones under his bruises, even prodding his cheek gently to be sure. His skin is lighter than I expect an Ielic¡¯s to be, but then, it is winter. It probably darkens in the summer, like Mama¡¯s. Further inspection of what I can see of his arms, torso, and legs yield similar results, and I pass my findings on to Chass. ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± he says, in a steady voice that somehow seems strained despite his casual demeanor. ¡°Nothing from the fight with the soldiers? No old injuries?¡± ¡°He may have broken his nose at some point in his youth,¡± I say. ¡°There¡¯s nothing else.¡± ¡°I see.¡± Chass rocks on his heels, expression bland as ever. ¡°I had better go to Captain Oristel. He¡¯ll want a report.¡± He leads the way from the room, running his hand over the lock before gesturing toward the barracks. ¡°Return to your quarter and enjoy your quiet night. There may not be many more in the future.¡± ¡°What?¡± I ask, alarm streaking through me, but he doesn¡¯t turn back. Blood pounds through my ears, drowning out the sound of his receding footsteps. Aze and the others were right. The scout¡¯s capture will be the catalyst to war. *** Near sundown, a soldier comes to the barracks and tells us to report to the mess hall for the evening meal. The conversation, which had wound down as the hours stretched on, circles back to the topic I most want to avoid as the men refuel their lagging energy. ¡°I overheard the soldiers talking,¡± Bronhold says as we take our seats at the long tables. ¡°They say we¡¯ll be sent to battle within the week.¡± Aze glances at me. ¡°That can¡¯t be true. Most of the villagers haven¡¯t been trained.¡± ¡°Well, the soldiers will be sent out then,¡± Bronhold relents. ¡°And our training will be accelerated. With the tunnel finished, what else is there to do?¡± I listen in uncomfortable silence, eating my food without tasting it. The others have no idea how close to the truth they are, and how far we all are from understanding the decisions at work behind the scenes. If war really has been declared, there won¡¯t be time for proper training. After all, if all the Grand General needs is numbers, we can serve that purpose as we are now. The boys don¡¯t seem to care about that, but the wary looks exchanged by the older men tell me I¡¯m not the only one who¡¯s worried. For once, Aze¡¯s excitement seems tempered despite the other boys¡¯ enthusiasm. He finishes his supper with an expression nearly as solemn as mine and doesn¡¯t join in the speculation. When his tray is clear, he murmurs, ¡°Think I¡¯ll turn in early. Brennr?¡± All too happy to leave the discussion behind, I follow my brother out into the yard. ¡°It¡¯s probably a good idea to get as much rest as we can,¡± I say. ¡°We don¡¯t know¡ª¡± ¡°You need to leave,¡± Aze says, spinning to face me. I blink up at him. ¡°What?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll come up with a story,¡± he says. ¡°Some excuse for why you¡¯ve gone. Maybe Tenant Gryfalkr can help. But if there really is to be a battle, you can¡¯t stay here.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t just leave, Aze.¡± ¡°You shouldn¡¯t even be here. You¡¯re not ready for battle.¡± ¡°Neither are you,¡± I snap. ¡°You¡¯ve only had a few weeks¡¯ training. But leaving isn¡¯t an option, so get used to the idea of me being here.¡± I give him a long glare and add, ¡°You may be seventeen now, but I am still your elder.¡± ¡°I¡¯m a man,¡± Aze bites back. ¡°Elder or not, you can¡¯t tell me what to do anymore. You¡¯re just a¡ª¡± He stops, but the unspoken words tear at me. You¡¯re just a girl. Not a soldier, not a man. Not supposed to be here. Regret kindles in his eyes, but his lips press closed. He won¡¯t take his words back. And why should he? He¡¯s right. I¡¯m useless here. I leave him without another word, and he says nothing to call me back. I want to go somewhere he isn¡¯t, somewhere away from the barracks and the tunnel and the dining hall. I want to be in Mjera¡¯s barn, tucked in the hay loft high away from the world, where we could talk and make light of our problems. My feet carry me away, and I pay little attention to where they take me until I find myself outside Chass¡¯s door. ¡°Braids?¡± I spin, my face heating with embarrassment. ¡°I was¡ªum¡ªI had a question.¡± Chass closes the door to the building he¡¯s just left, his shoulders slumping as he studies me. ¡°What is it?¡± My embarrassment shifts to concern as I take in the heavy violet-blue in his words. ¡°Is something wrong?¡± ¡°Why do you ask?¡± He smiles, but the color of his voice doesn¡¯t change. ¡°You seem¡­ tired.¡± ¡°I am tired,¡± he says, letting out a small chuckle. ¡°That¡¯s no cause for concern.¡± But it is concerning. Dark circles mar the skin beneath his eyes, and there are new worry lines creased into his brow. ¡°Has something happened?¡± I ask carefully. ¡°No. Well, yes, but...¡± He trails off, shaking his head. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯s done. You needn¡¯t worry.¡± ¡°I already have my worries,¡± I say. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be better to share yours?¡± Chass chuckles again. ¡°So simple,¡± he says. ¡°Everything is simple to you. It¡¯s either right or wrong, action or inaction. Tell me, how long was it before you decided to join us? You only had two days to make the decision, and I suspect it was largely made before the end of that first evening. What guided that choice?¡± Is he mocking me? I bristle, but Chass¡¯s gaze is earnest as he waits for my answer. ¡°I have told you my reasons already,¡± I say. ¡°To save your friend¡¯s brother,¡± he says, and for lack of a better answer, I shrug in agreement. ¡°I thought so,¡± he sighs. ¡°Then I¡¯ve had my answer this whole time.¡± ¡°Your answer to what?¡± ¡°I wish I¡¯d met you months ago,¡± he says, a wistful pink coloring his voice. ¡°It would have saved me several headaches.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± ¡°No.¡± He steps past me, setting his hand briefly on my shoulder as he goes. ¡°Try not to dwell on it. All will be well.¡± I open my mouth to say more, but Chass gives me a gentle push toward the barracks, and I go. At the door, I glance back toward Chass¡¯s quarters and find him ducking into the guardhouse. Apparently I¡¯m not the only one worried about how the scout¡¯s presence will affect our future. *** I am wrapped in my blankets long before the other villagers file into our barracks. I sense eyes on me and know Aze is watching for signs of wakefulness, but I keep my body still and my breathing deep. After a while, I hear him crawl into the bunk below me and mumble good night to the others, who answer in soft tones before settling into their own beds. Silence descends on the room, broken only by the shifting of blankets and the sighs of men falling into exhausted sleep. But sleep does not come for me. For hours, I lie on my side and stare at the shadows, trying to match my breathing to the peaceful exhalations around me. My mind won¡¯t calm. On nights like this back home, I usually soothed my restlessness by tidying up the kitchen or preparing for the morning meal. Somehow I doubt the soldiers will want me messing around their dining hall. Then again, why not? No one said we couldn¡¯t leave the barracks, and no one can object to the place being cleaned. I play with the idea for what feels like hours, alternately talking myself into and out of action, until at last my frustration outweighs my reservations and I slide down the ladder to the floor. Quietly, I pull on my boots while listening for the sounds of disturbed slumber, but when no one moves I creep toward the door on work-softened soles. Outside, I take a deep breath of frigid air and let the cold seep into my lungs. It does more to wake than relax me, but since I¡¯m already up, I might as well make the most of it. I start toward the dining area, planning out the areas I will clean first. A deafening clang shatters the quiet, stabbing through to my heart and ripping a gasp from my throat. Warning bells. I search for the reason behind the disturbance, but everything seems as it was before. Except¡ªmovement draws my eye to the south, toward the gatehouse. A man stands beside the door, facing me with a torch in his hand. The light pools on his face, illuminating yellow hair and a scornful grin. Tyrr. Doors throughout the compound burst open, spilling soldiers and villagers into the yard. Confused questions collide with shouts for order until finally the men crowd into ranks and wait for instruction. I lose sight of Tyrr in the chaos and give up searching for him when my name is called. I join my quarter and melt into line beside Aze. ¡°Where were you?¡± he hisses. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°I couldn¡¯t sleep,¡± I answer, craning my neck to see over the heads of the men before me. Chass stands at the front of the group, and I hush Aze as he tries to ask more questions. The bells cease their clamor, sending echoes of their final knells into the darkness. ¡°There¡¯s no need for alarm,¡± Chass calls, lifting his hand for silence. ¡°The soldiers on watched feared the scout had escaped, but he has been found.¡± Murmurs break out, but Chass speaks over them. ¡°Investigation into this matter will begin immediately. Return to your beds. No one is to leave the barracks until summoned.¡± A few men shout questions, but Chass ignores them. Soldiers push us back toward our barracks with harsh words, and we have no choice but to go. I follow Aze, my heart still pounding to the rhythm of the clanging bells. The scout tried to escape? He must not have gotten far, though far enough to cause a panic for whoever was on guard duty. Did he manage on his own, or¡ª ¡°Not you, mouse,¡± sneers a voice at my shoulder. I turn to find Tenant Tyrr smirking down at me. ¡°The captain has some questions for you.¡± I stare at him, confusion slowing my understanding. ¡°Me? Why?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not your place to question,¡± he says, grabbing my upper arm and pulling me toward him. ¡°Brennr!¡± Aze says. ¡°Wait!¡± Tyrr shoves him back into line. ¡°Go on. Your little mouse will be returned once he¡¯s explained himself.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t just¡ª¡± ¡°Go, Aze,¡± I interrupt. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. I haven¡¯t done anything.¡± Tyrr nods and drags me toward the guardhouse. A group of soldiers huddles before it, including the captain and, thank the Phoenix, Chass. ¡°Here he is, Captain,¡± Tyrr announces, holding up my arm like a trophy. ¡°The one I saw in the yard.¡± So that¡¯s what this is about. I raise my eyes to Captain Oristel, his hair mussed and his long cloak disheveled. ¡°Sir, I didn¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°Silence,¡± he barks. ¡°You will answer my questions, nothing more.¡± He glances at Chass, who stands as calmly as though he is regularly wrested from bed in the middle of the night. ¡°Who was supposed to be on duty, Gryfalkr?¡± ¡°Morrigan, sir. Denn was to take over for him.¡± ¡°And where is Morrigan?¡± ¡°Here, sir,¡± says a heavyset man. His hands are folded behind his back, and he wears a resigned look on his wide face. ¡°Why were you not at your post?¡± ¡°I was on the wall, sir.¡± Morrigan¡¯s spine stiffens as he speaks, as if tensing for a blow. ¡°I was told my shift had been changed.¡± ¡°Who told you that?¡± ¡°Sturn, sir. He said he¡¯d traded with Ulvor.¡± ¡°Gryfalkr,¡± Captain Oristel growls. ¡°You will get to the bottom of this. I will leave the punishments to you.¡± ¡°Yes, sir. Morrigan, you¡¯re dismissed.¡± The big man salutes and flees across the yard, and Captain Oristel turns his fierce gaze on Tyrr. ¡°Now,¡± he says. ¡°Make your report.¡± ¡°I was out checking the guards at the tunnel, sir, according to my assignment,¡± Tyrr begins, his voice dripping with dutiful innocence. ¡°When I passed the guardhouse, I noticed no one was on guard. I looked in on the scout and found the door was unlocked, and the room appeared to be empty. By Ieldran¡¯s grace, he was only hiding, and I caught him before he could get any farther.¡± By Ieldran¡¯s grace. He¡¯s already admitted that he considers Ieldran to be no more than a myth, and the falsity fills me with disgust. ¡°Someone was clearly helping him,¡± Tyrr goes on, jerking at my arm. ¡°After I locked the room back up, I called up to the wall to sound the alarm. That¡¯s when I saw this one sneaking around the yard.¡± ¡°No,¡± I say, but my heart is pounding so hard I can barely hear my own voice. ¡°I didn¡¯t¡­ I couldn¡¯t sleep, so I came outside to clear my mind. I had only just left the barracks when the warning bells started and Tenant Tyrr saw me. I had nothing to do with the escape.¡± ¡°Can you prove you were not near the guardhouse before I saw you?¡± Tyrr says. My stomach clenches. ¡°Can you prove I was?¡± ¡°Hold your tongue, boy,¡± Oristel growls. ¡°Or it will be cut from your insolent head. Tyrr, return him to his quarters and double the guard on the tunnel. Gryfalkr, I leave you in charge of the investigation. You will have results for me in the morning.¡± ¡°Yes, sir,¡± both tenants say. Oristel grunts and stalks away without a backwards glance. I want to yank my arm free, but Tyrr¡¯s grip tightens as he narrows his eyes at me. ¡°Come along, mouse,¡± he says. ¡°Back to cower in your little hole while you still can.¡± I glance back at Chass, who levels a long, searching look at me as Tyrr pulls me away. It will be well, I know it will. If anyone can find the truth of the matter, it¡¯s Chass. There must have just been a mistake with the watch, and all will soon be righted. Chass nods to me, his blue eyes serious as I let Tyrr lead me back across the yard. The message in them is clear: I¡¯ll take care of it. Don¡¯t worry. But I do worry, for the rest of the night as I lie sleepless in my bunk, and into the next morning as the villagers wake on their own for the first time in weeks. When the men rise and wait uncertainly for directions that don¡¯t come, I worry. When some of the boys take up the spears we aren¡¯t allowed to have in the tunnel and begin sparring in the aisle between bunks, I worry. And I worry when a summoning bugle call echoes from the yard, bouncing around the room like a warning cry. We trail uncertainly from the barracks, joining the other quarters and the soldiers already waiting outside. Chass stands beside Captain Oristel and Tyrr, waiting while a guard brings the scout to join them. His hands are tied in front this time, so he¡¯s able to catch himself when Tyrr forces him to his knees before the captain. ¡°Today we are witness to the great justice of Grand General Ambritten,¡± Captain Oristel calls. A sour feeling turns in my stomach as his voice echoes over the stillness. ¡°We have determined that the Ielic scout is guilty of the senseless killing of two Awnian soldiers while on a mission of espionage into Awnian territory. These actions have only one possible consequence. This man is sentenced to immediate execution.¡± The soldiers erupt in applause while the blood drains from my face. They couldn¡¯t be that cruel¡ªhe did nothing but defend himself. I stare desperately at Chass, but his attention is on Captain Oristel. ¡°Ieldran¡¯s will must be done,¡± the captain says, and the men hush in anticipation. ¡°This man will not die alone today.¡± A low murmur spreads through the men. ¡°Did they capture someone else?¡± Aze whispers. ¡°Some Ielic trying to help him escape, maybe?¡± Kjerrin murmurs back. ¡°We are here to serve justice against all enemies of Awnia,¡± Captain Oristel goes on. ¡°Even those within our own ranks. Soldiers, seize Brennr Hirdinn.¡± Chapter Eleven Aze steps in front of me. ¡°There¡¯s been a mistake. Brennr isn¡¯t¡ª¡± Two soldiers appear on either side of me, grasping both my arms and pulling me out of my brother¡¯s reach. ¡°Stop!¡± Aze yells. ¡°You can¡¯t do this! He hasn¡¯t done anything!¡± ¡°I know this must come as a shock to some of you,¡± Captain Oristel says. ¡°Indeed, it was a shock to me as well. To think that one of your own would stoop so low as to betray the army to which he has sworn an oath...¡± His words sound blurred and distant beyond the pounding in my ears. I suck in panicked breaths, struggling pathetically between the soldiers as they haul me through the crowd. Over. It¡¯s over. I¡¯m going to die. ¡°What evidence is there of this boy¡¯s betrayal?¡± Chass asks. I try to look at him, but the soldiers keep pushing my head down. ¡°I have heard the evidence in private,¡± Captain Oristel says sharply. ¡°There is more than enough to render a sentence. I know you have occasionally used this boy as a messenger, Tenant. He¡¯s been using that position to gain information. His true loyalties lie with those who would challenge the Grand General.¡± The soldiers give me a final shove to put me before Captain Oristel, my back to the audience. He glares down at me as if I¡¯m mud beneath his boot. ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± I whisper, but my voice is drowned out by the angry mutters spreading through the crowd. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything.¡± ¡°Sir,¡± Chass continues. ¡°Surely the boy has the right to a trial?¡± My knees give out, and the soldiers at my side let me fall. The crowd is shouting now, their voices blurring together in my ears. ¡°A traitor does not deserve a trial,¡± the captain says. ¡°His sentence will be immediate.¡± ¡°No,¡± I breathe. ¡°Captain,¡± Chass says. ¡°I cannot believe¡ª¡± ¡°You placed your faith in the wrong man, Gryfalkr.¡± The captain lowers his voice, eyes flashing. ¡°Do not test me. You have also been accused, though your rank and connections saved you from further scrutiny. Do not make me rethink that decision.¡± ¡°Perhaps another form of punishment would be more appropriate,¡± Chass presses. The captain wheels to face him, and Chass¡¯s words falter. I turn terrified eyes on the man whose life I saved, my knees trembling against the cold earth. Chass locks his gaze with mine, and I read the helplessness in it. He can¡¯t save me. I look at the scout beside me. His face is calm, as if he¡¯s already accepted his fate. ¡°Sword,¡± Captain Oristel demands. ¡°The Ielic first, and then the traitor.¡± No. Ieldran, no. The bruise on the scout¡¯s cheek stands out like a stain on clean cloth. He looks at me, his pupils blown wide, and hot fire explodes across my chest, down my arms, into my stomach. Not like this. I won¡¯t die like this. Captain Oristel lifts his sword. The sound of a shout reaches me faintly, like my brain is half a step behind my ears. Aze. The scout¡¯s eyes remain on me, burning, seizing onto my gaze as fear finally grips him. I rip off my glove and press my hand to the earth, feeling the crumbles of cold dirt beneath my palm. ¡°Quake.¡± Golden light knives down into the dirt. The earth gives a violent shake, like a horse bucking its rider. Captain Oristel stumbles. The scout¡¯s eyes widen. Then he¡¯s on his feet, bound hands driving into the captain¡¯s ribs and knocking him to the ground. I punch another jolt of energy into the earth and lunge after the scout, who pauses just long enough to make sure I¡¯m following. ¡°Stop them!¡± Oristel yells. ¡°Wordweaver! Kill them!¡± The scout takes off, twisting to balance as the ground shudders. A few soldiers flail at him, but he dances aside and dashes toward the tunnel. I follow in a stumbling sprint, chancing a look over my shoulder to find the soldiers already gaining on us. We¡¯ll never reach the tunnel at this rate. My energy levels are full and boiling with disuse. The taste of a word frosts my tongue before I speak it, and I let it sink into my blood as a column of soldiers approaches. I bend and touch the earth, picturing my command in my mind. ¡°Freeze.¡± The snow on the ground melts and freezes in the same instant, encrusting the soldiers¡¯ feet in thick ice. I open my eyes as they lurch to a stop, frozen to the earth mid-run. They rip out swords and hack at their restraints, and I spare one last glance into the crowd before I turn away. Phoenix, protect my brother. The scout waits for me to join him at the mouth of the tunnel before hurrying through. We sprint to the first turn and I sag against the wall, sucking in air and feeling as though the ice has settled into my lungs. ¡°Wait,¡± I gasp. The scout pauses, breathing hard and clearly impatient to move again. I reach for his hands and set my fingers on the rope. It takes a moment to gather my thoughts¡ªI¡¯ve switched to Ielic now, which uses a different word order than Awnian. The endings of action words also depend on the gender of the speaker, and I take a breath to settle myself before I speak the male form of my next command. ¡°Cut.¡± His bonds drop to the ground, and he kicks them aside and flexes his wrists. ¡°Ready?¡± he asks. I¡¯m not, but I nod anyway. We run at a jog to conserve as much energy as possible. I¡¯m already panting, but the scout takes controlled breaths through his nose, barely making any sound as he runs. I must seem pathetic to him. He¡¯s probably spent years in the wild, and his stamina is barely affected by this run. I¡¯ve never been particularly fast, but at least I could hold my own in races as a child. After everything, if we are caught because I¡¯m too weak... So I run on even though my lungs burn, even when the ache in my side because a constant, stabbing pain that pulses with every step. I run until we reach the cavernous Phoenix Nest and the scout slows to a walk, barely winded, and gestures to the wall. ¡°Rest,¡± he says. ¡°Stay standing, though. It¡¯ll be worse if you try to sit.¡± I drag in gulps of air, closing my eyes against the black dots filling my vision. I should tell him to keep going¡ªthere¡¯s no sense in both of us being captured¡ªbut I can¡¯t form the words. ¡°Breathe in through your nose,¡± he coaches. I obey, trying not to hate him for his composure. ¡°My brother,¡± I gasp between breaths. At the last moment, I remember to use the male form of I before I go on. ¡°I have to go back for my brother.¡± The scout looks at me, then over his shoulder toward the fort. ¡°You can¡¯t. They¡¯ll kill you.¡± ¡°But¡ª¡± ¡°He¡¯ll be safer away from you,¡± the scout says. ¡°If you go back now, he might try to fight them, too. The best chance for both of you is if you escape.¡± I don¡¯t want to believe that. I want to go back and fight¡ªlevel the whole fort if I have to¡ªbut my waning energy tells me I¡¯ll never survive. And if Aze fights¡­ ¡°There will be another chance,¡± the scout says. ¡°Another time. But first, we have to get away.¡± Guilt is thick in my throat, but I force it down and croak, ¡°How far is your unit?¡± He hesitates. ¡°Oh, for Ieldran¡¯s¡ª¡± I cut off the curse and glare at him, fighting for control over a rush of frustration threatening my composure. ¡°I¡¯m not going to go back and tell the Awnians where your unit is.¡± ¡°Just follow me,¡± he answers. ¡°It¡¯s not only my life at risk.¡± He moves into a jog again, and I glower at his back. He¡¯s right, the needling, logical part of my brain says. He can¡¯t afford to trust me so easily. For all he knows, I could have orchestrated the escape just to find out where his base is. Forcing the matter won¡¯t help any. I¡¯ll simply have to wait for him to be ready to tell me, or else let him lead me to the unit without knowing where we¡¯re going. I hate not knowing. I pause to drink from the water barrels before following the scout through the tunnel I¡¯ve spent the last month digging. It¡¯s a much shorter run, and before long, light glimmers up ahead. We burst through the tunnel into sunshine, finally safe, finally¡ª ¡°Stop!¡± calls the guard stationed outside the tunnel. He draws his sword as we hurtle past, followed closely by his partner. The scout wheels to face the soldiers, reaching out to catch me as I stagger after him. ¡°Stay back,¡± he says, as if that wasn¡¯t already my intention. The soldiers advance, swords drawn, and the scout falls into a ready stance with his arms up, palms out, muscles tense. The nearest soldier lunges, but the scout twists to the side and grabs his arm, slamming it against his knee and catching the sword that falls from his hand. He throws the soldier to the ground and falls back, lifting his stolen sword to catch the next attack. It¡¯s over quickly. Whatever training the scout has obviously received is superior to that of the soldiers. They lie on the ground in heaps, silent as fallen leaves. ¡°Quickly,¡± the scout says, wiping his sword clean on one of the soldier¡¯s sleeves. He takes the man¡¯s blade and slides it into the empty sheath at his hip before bending over the second body, where he undoes the sword belt and lifts it away, sheath and all. I stare at the men. One has hair the color of honey, the same as Arun¡ªand a dozen other men in Vallegat. He might have been my neighbor. How many loved ones did he leave behind to become a soldier? How long will it be before they learn of his fate? The scout stands and puts himself between me and the dead Awnians, pressing the second sword into my hand and closing my fingers over it. When I don¡¯t move, he slings the belt around my waist and fastens it. I start, pushing his hands away. ¡°We should keep moving,¡± he says. Dark blue eyes pierce through the fog of exhaustion and urge me to listen. To see the reason in his words and act. But Aze... I look back, staring into the tunnel as if I can will it to give up my brother. The scout puts a hand on my shoulder and turns me away, then jogs off without waiting to see if I follow. I have no choice. I sheath the sword and stagger after him. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. He takes us on a winding trail down the mountain, sometimes moving north but more often taking side routes and doubling back. I lose track of where we¡¯ve been and where we¡¯re going, sure it¡¯s his way of preventing me from fleeing back to the fort once he¡¯s taken me to his base. ¡°Rest here a moment,¡± the scout says after an hour, brushing a stump clear of snow and dropping onto it, barely panting. I collapse against the trunk of a tree, trying to focus my blurring vision. ¡°I have friends nearby,¡± the scout says, leaning his forearms on his knees. ¡°At least I hope I do. They should have been patrolling near the area when I was taken.¡± ¡°More scouts?¡± I ask. ¡°Yes.¡± He digs his heel into the snow, his shoulders shifting with each controlled breath. The color of his voice is a dark moss green, lit by the golden highlights I always hear in the Ielic language. A friendly color, if a little deeper than I¡¯m used to. ¡°I¡¯m part of a group of rangers responsible for scouting the area around my unit. We travel as a group, but sometimes we split up to cover more ground.¡± He looks up at me, dark eyes shadowed by sweat-dampened hair. ¡°You saved my life. My men would never have known what happened to me.¡± I look away. If I hadn¡¯t been sentenced to die with him, I would have watched his execution with the others, pitying his fate but never dreaming I could have done anything to stop it. ¡°I¡¯m Six,¡± he says. ¡°Six?¡± He smiles. ¡°It¡¯s short for Sixterianthe. Horrible thing to name a child, I know, but it¡¯s a family name. What are you called?¡± ¡°Brennr.¡± ¡°You speak Ielic.¡± ¡°My mother taught me. Many of us from the border villages speak it.¡± Six flicks his gaze over me and freezes abruptly. I stiffen under his stare, reaching up to the neck of my shirt where his eyes seem to have focused. At first I think he¡¯s looking at my scar, but then cool metal brushes my fingers as I touch the ring beneath my twisted scarf. Somehow during my arrest and escape, it must have been pulled loose. I guess I won¡¯t be giving it to Chass after all. Add thief to my growing list of transgressions. Six blinks away when I cover the ring with my hand, his jaw clenching. ¡°What?¡± I demand. ¡°Where did you get that?¡± ¡°It¡¯s only a ring.¡± It must be worth quite a bit for him to react like this. He wouldn¡¯t try to rob me, would he? His stare burns through me, gaze jumping from mine to where the ring is concealed beneath my hand. ¡°You found it?¡± he presses. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°In the fort?¡± I pause. ¡°Yes.¡± He waits, all attention focused on my hand and the treasure beneath it, his whole body angled to face me. Then he sighs, and the tension drains from his muscles with the long breath. ¡°Keep it hidden,¡± he murmurs. ¡°Don¡¯t show it to anyone.¡± I tuck it back under my shirt, frowning, but he doesn¡¯t look at me again. Instead, he scratches his dark hair with one hand, rolling his shoulders and neck as he stands. ¡°Let¡¯s keep going,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯d like to get farther away from the tunnel before dark so we can start a fire.¡± Repressing a groan, I push away from the tree and force myself to take a calming breath. I¡¯ve mostly regained it now, but the thought of running any more makes my muscles wobble. We set off at a quick walk, much more relaxed than our previous pace. A lark trills a greeting as we pass, as though this is nothing more than a pleasurable stroll through the countryside. The sound twists in my stomach. I am a fugitive. A traitor to my home, to the army I¡¯d just begun to serve. An army that still holds my brother. ¡°Shh,¡± Six says. He stands still beside a leaning pine, his head tilted. I pause a few paces away to listen. The lark has stopped singing, but otherwise I can¡¯t hear whatever it is that¡¯s made him stop. He straightens, lifting his hands to his face to let out a warbling whistle. It sounds like a snow bunting, though it¡¯s the wrong season for that kind of call. A rustle in the brush is my only warning. I turn to face it and find a man charging through the forest, his sword raised. I fumble for my own, crying out and stumbling back, but my hand slides off the hilt as I try to jerk it free. I lift my other arm helplessly as the man strikes. ¡°Stop!¡± Six yells. The man freezes, his sword inches from my neck. ¡°He¡¯s Awnian,¡± he grunts, not taking his eyes from mine. From this close, I can see the scars crossing his tanned face¡ªone bisecting his left eyebrow, one splitting his upper lip, one tracing down his jaw to disappear beneath a scruff of brown stubble. His hazel eyes dart toward my pathetically outstretched arm, and I lower it self-consciously. ¡°He helped me escape,¡± Six says, stepping between us and pushing the sword down. I swallow as the point slips past my throat. ¡°How was I supposed to know that?¡± the man says. ¡°I see Awnian colors behind you, and what else am I supposed to think?¡± ¡°Exactly what you thought,¡± Six says. ¡°But this one isn¡¯t an enemy. He saved my life.¡± The man throws his sword back into its sheath. ¡°An Awnian saved your life? Why? Where have you been?¡± ¡°With the Awnians. I thought that much was obvious.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be smart with me,¡± the man snarls. ¡°You disappear for three days, no word, no trail. It took me that long to track you here. What happened?¡± Six sobers. ¡°I was captured. Brennr helped me escape.¡± The man turns his attention back to me. ¡°And why would he help you?¡± ¡°It was mutually beneficial,¡± Six says. ¡°Where are the others?¡± Six¡¯s friend throws me a blatantly distrusting look. ¡°Down the mountain a ways.¡± ¡°I told you he¡¯s fine,¡± Six says. He pats the man on the shoulder, smiling. ¡°Brennr, this is Thare. He hasn¡¯t mastered the art of socializing yet.¡± Thare lets out a sound I can only describe as a growl and pushes Six¡¯s hand away. ¡°The others should be nearby,¡± he says. ¡°They moved camp after I left this morning.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Six nods. ¡°Glad to hear you haven¡¯t completely fallen apart without me.¡± ¡°What about him? You¡¯re going to bring an Awnian soldier into our camp?¡± ¡°He¡¯s not a soldier anymore,¡± Six says. ¡°He¡¯s still Awnian,¡± Thare says. ¡°We shouldn¡¯t trust him.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll give him a safe place to rest and some food,¡± Six says, with a ring of finality in his voice. ¡°Let the others keep watch for a while. We¡¯re tired.¡± ¡°They won¡¯t like that,¡± Thare says, but makes no other argument as he marches off into the trees. Six starts after him, but I hesitate. This might be my chance to leave. Thare clearly doesn¡¯t want me around, and his companions will probably feel the same way. There¡¯s nothing stopping me from going my own way now. I¡¯m as free as I¡¯m ever going to be. Six slows, looking over his shoulder at me. ¡°Coming?¡± I don¡¯t answer. He waits, eyes softening as I struggle through my thoughts. ¡°I know things have happened quickly,¡± he says. ¡°But you can¡¯t stay here. You have no supplies. Come with us now, and we¡¯ll figure out a plan for you after we¡¯ve had a chance to eat.¡± My stomach chooses that moment to let out an empty gurgle. He¡¯s right again, and I¡¯m getting tired of admitting it. Thare leads us to a little hollow of pine trees with a small clearing at its center. ¡°Make your call,¡± he tells Six. ¡°I hate whistling.¡± Six cups his hands around his mouth and lets out another snow bunting whistle. He waits until the echoes fade before repeating the call twice more, then drops arms at his sides and eases into the hollow. ¡°Now we wait,¡± he says. ¡°It shouldn¡¯t be long.¡± I follow him down and set my back against a pine, allowing myself to slide down the trunk until I¡¯m sitting on the ground. It¡¯s surprisingly dry, protected from snowfall by the thick branches overhead. The brown-green of Six¡¯s tunic and armor blends into the earth beneath him, and when he¡¯s still, I almost believe he could disappear against it. ¡°You were on a scouting mission when you were captured?¡± I ask, curious. Six lies back against a tree trunk, folding his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. ¡°It wasn¡¯t exactly a mission,¡± he answers. ¡°Just routine scouting. We keep an eye on the border, especially near Hollow Peak. The mountains are thinnest here.¡± I know exactly how thin it is. ¡°What will happen when your friends arrive?¡± ¡°I suppose we¡¯ll return to our unit.¡± ¡°What will happen when you tell your captain about the tunnel?¡± Six opens one eye to look at me. ¡°He¡¯ll want to do something about it. We can¡¯t ignore an opening into Ieli.¡± ¡°My brother is still there,¡± I say. ¡°At the fort. He might be punished because of me.¡± Six opens his mouth, but Thare cuts him off. ¡°Someone coming,¡± he says. ¡°One of us.¡± ¡°Which?¡± Six asks. Rather than answer, Thare backs away from the gap between the trees where he¡¯d been keeping watch. A man steps through, dressed in the same leather armor and forest green cloak Thare and Six are wearing. Tight coils of black hair hang into his eyes, which open wide as they take me in. ¡°Who¡¯s this?¡± ¡°Brennr,¡± Six answers. ¡°Brennr, meet Redge.¡± ¡°He¡¯s Awnian,¡± Redge says. ¡°Yes. I¡¯ll give you the full story when everyone else arrives.¡± ¡°Shouldn¡¯t be long,¡± Redge says. ¡°Iorin was right behind me.¡± ¡°And still is,¡± puts in a new voice. Another form slips through the trees, nodding to Thare. ¡°Good to see you, Six. We were taking bets on whether or not you¡¯d been eaten by wolves.¡± ¡°Not yet,¡± Six says. ¡°Brennr, this is Iorin. Iorin, Brennr, who is an Awnian but not an enemy.¡± ¡°I look forward to that story,¡± Iorin says, pushing back his hood. His features are nearly identical to Redge¡¯s¡ªblack hair and dark skin, more typical of coastal Ielics than the ones who settled near the mountains¡ªthough he appears older by a few years. ¡°You should probably do something about that armband, then,¡± he adds. ¡°Not everyone is as discerning as we are. They might shoot first and wait to hear your explanation after.¡± ¡°Noted,¡± Six says. ¡°Have you seen Orami?¡± Iorin shakes his head. ¡°Not since the morning,¡± Redge says. ¡°We agreed to meet here before sundown, though, so he should be close.¡± His eyes drift to me as he speaks, a crease forming between his brows. I straighten my shoulders and push down my irritation. I have my breath back now, and I won¡¯t be intimidated by his suspicion. Another ten minutes pass before the last ranger arrives, just as Iorin sparks a fire in a bed of dry oak branches. ¡°Am I late?¡± he asks, smiling as he lowers himself into the hollow. He¡¯s only a boy¡ªno more than sixteen¡ªwith soft olive skin and kindly eyes that are out of place among the hardened faces of the other rangers. It¡¯s strange that such a young boy would be allowed to scout with the others. They all appear to be in their twenties, with Iorin looking to be the oldest. ¡°Glad you¡¯re still alive,¡± the boy tells Six. ¡°Redge said we¡¯d never see you again.¡± Redge rubs the back of his neck. ¡°He exaggerates. I had every confidence we¡¯d find you eventually. Now tell us your story.¡± The boy gives me a curious look, taking in my black and silver armband with wide green eyes. His hair is a burned orange color I¡¯ve never seen before. ¡°Gather round,¡± Six says dramatically. ¡°Three days ago, I discovered what appeared to be a break in the wall of the mountain. As I approached to investigate, the stones exploded before me and knocked me down as a horde of Awnian soldiers broke through and¡ª¡± ¡°A horde?¡± Redge says. ¡°Broke through what?¡± Thare says at the same time. Six glares at them. ¡°Hush. They¡¯d been digging a tunnel, and I had the lucky misfortune of being there when they finished it. And it was a horde, but most of them seemed to only be workers. That left half a dozen soldiers, whom I valiantly fought, but eventually they overpowered me and took me back through the tunnel to their fort.¡± ¡°You were captured?¡± Orami says. Iorin and Thare exchange somber looks, as if Six has just confirmed something they¡¯d already expected. Redge leans forward. ¡°How big a fort?¡± ¡°Big enough,¡± Six says, his tone suddenly matching theirs. ¡°They questioned me, asking where the unit was and how many men we had on the border.¡± ¡°That how you got that bruise?¡± Thare asks. ¡°They weren¡¯t impressed with my silence,¡± Six says. ¡°They tried to use a Wordweaver to make me talk.¡± A scowl flashes over Redge¡¯s face. ¡°How?¡± ¡°It didn¡¯t work. He tried forcing me to speak, but nothing happened. After that, they decided I wasn¡¯t worth the trouble and that they¡¯d rather just execute me.¡± The rangers go silent. Even the fire seems to cease its cheerful crackling, as if everything in the hollow is struck by the thought of how close Six came to death. Something he said earlier circles in my thoughts: They would never have known what happened to me. Would it have been the same for me? Would Captain Oristel have even bothered to send word to Mjera¡¯s family? Maybe Chass would have notified my parents after things settled down. What will he tell them now? ¡°That¡¯s where Brennr comes in,¡± Six goes on in a subdued voice. ¡°When the Awnian captain announced my execution, he also accused Brennr of treason and sentenced him to death beside me.¡± Each man in the hollow looks at me, but I keep my eyes on Six. ¡°You understood that?¡± I say. ¡°They were speaking Awnian. You said you didn¡¯t understand Captain Oristel¡¯s questions.¡± Six winks. ¡°Why treason?¡± Orami asks, looking between Six and me. ¡°They said he was gathering information to be used against Grand General Ambritten,¡± Six says, tilting his head at me. Iorin raises his dark eyebrows. ¡°Is it true?¡± Something in his gentle, honey-colored voice compels me to speak before I can think better of it. ¡°No. One of the tenants thought I tried to help Six escape. I didn¡¯t, but...¡± But it doesn¡¯t matter anymore. No one could argue against my guilt now. ¡°How did you escape?¡± Iorin asks. Six glances at me, and my breath hitches. I¡¯ve escaped being used by one army only to fall into the hands of another. ¡°Brennr caused a distraction,¡± Six says, his eyes still on me. ¡°It stopped the pursuit for a while, long enough for us to get away.¡± Thare raises an eyebrow and shrugs. ¡°Then he must not be too useless,¡± he says. ¡°Even if he looks like he can¡¯t lift his sword.¡± I glare at him. ¡°I¡¯ve never wanted to use a sword. I joined to be a healer, not a soldier.¡± Orami¡¯s face lights up. ¡°A healer! Wait until Somre hears that. He¡¯ll want to talk to you for sure.¡± ¡°He¡¯s not going to talk to Somre,¡± Thare says. ¡°Traitor or not, he¡¯s an Awnian soldier. We can¡¯t take him back to the unit.¡± ¡°What other choice do we have?¡± Iorin asks. ¡°Leave him out here on the mountainside? What thanks would that be for saving Six¡¯s life?¡± ¡°Six should never have gotten himself into a position where he needed saving,¡± Thare says. Six snorts. ¡°Are you saying I deserved to die because I was surprised and outnumbered?¡± Thare only harrumphs. ¡°Thare¡¯s right,¡± Redge puts in. ¡°We can¡¯t just bring an Awnian soldier to the unit. We should let him go here. He can return to his village.¡± Six shakes his head. ¡°He¡¯d never make it back on his own. Even if he knew the way, there¡¯s the wolves to worry about. We¡¯ve barely avoided them ourselves. He wouldn¡¯t last the night.¡± I clutch my jacket closer, wishing I¡¯d have thought to wear Mjera¡¯s father¡¯s cloak when I left the barracks. If the wolves were willing to attack a large group, they certainly wouldn¡¯t have any trouble going after me. I¡¯d have no hope of making it home, even with my Wordweaving. ¡°Let¡¯s vote,¡± Iorin suggests. ¡°All in favor of leaving Brennr here to die in the wilderness, raise your hand.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t say it like that,¡± Redge says, but raises his hand anyway. Thare adds his as well. ¡°All in favor of bringing Brennr back to Captain Bayal, who might like the chance to question someone who has seen the inside of an Awnian training fort and who has first-hand knowledge of the tunnel¡¯s construction,¡± Iorin goes on calmly. ¡°Raise your hand.¡± He lifts his as he speaks and is joined by Six and Orami. ¡°That¡¯s majority,¡± Iorin says, looking at Six. Six nods. ¡°The rangers have spoken,¡± he says, offering me a grim smile. ¡°Guess you get to live another day after all.¡± Chapter Twelve There¡¯s no escaping it now¡ªI truly am a traitor. Six will take me back to his captain, and I will tell him everything I know about the fort. But I will do it out of a sense of justice, not malice. It¡¯s not that I want revenge. I don¡¯t. I just want to protect the innocent life that would be destroyed if the Grand General invades Ieli. Right? Six tells Orami to take the first watch and a companionable silence settles over the hollow, though I get the distinct impression it does not extend to me. Thare continues to peer through the trees while Redge pokes absently at the fire with a stick. Beside him, Iorin pulls a piece of wood from his pack and begins carving with a small knife. ¡°How much food do you have left?¡± Redge asks, setting his stick beside the fire. ¡°Nothing,¡± Six says. ¡°The Awnians took my pack. You?¡± ¡°Redge ate everything,¡± Iorin sighs. ¡°Thare?¡± ¡°A little bread. I was thinking of going hunting.¡± Iorin blows the shavings from his block of wood and drops it into his pocket before picking up his bow. ¡°I can take a hint,¡± he says, slipping the knife into a small sheath on his boot. ¡°If I¡¯m not back by nightfall, don¡¯t bother looking for me. I¡¯ll be feasting by myself.¡± He steps around the fire and disappears into the trees, silent as a deer. ¡°I¡¯m going too,¡± Thare announces, stalking off into the forest. Six sighs. ¡°Any more than one will scare the game away.¡± ¡°If the fire hasn¡¯t done that already,¡± Redge says. He stands and kicks at the meager pile of sticks Iorin gathered. ¡°Think I¡¯ll get some more firewood.¡± He leaves, and Six and I are alone again. He seems content to sit in silence, staring into the forest with his elbows on his knees, his forehead set against folded fingers. His lips tighten into a hard, thin line, and a muscle in his cheek flexes as he clenches his jaw. After a few moments, he notices my attention and looks at me. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell them?¡± He doesn¡¯t ask what I mean. He just looks at me, expression unreadable, and then he shrugs and looks away. ¡°It¡¯s not my secret to tell.¡± I feel like I should thank him, but something holds me back. ¡°Last night, someone tried to help you escape. Who was it?¡± Six rubs at his wrist as if still feeling the sting of ropes. ¡°I don¡¯t know. In the evening, someone whispered through the door to make my move when the night was darkest, but I didn¡¯t recognize the voice. I waited until dark, and when I tried the door, it was unlocked. When I noticed there was no guard, I was going to try for the tunnel, but someone happened by.¡± ¡°Tyrr,¡± I sigh. ¡°He thought I was the one who unlocked your door.¡± ¡°But you weren¡¯t.¡± ¡°No.¡± I draw my knees up to my chest and lean over them. ¡°I may not agree with everything the Awnians did, but I didn¡¯t set out to be a traitor.¡± ¡°Why were you even there? If you wanted to be a healer, why not just be a healer? Why be a soldier?¡± I set my chin on one knee and look at him without lifting my head. ¡°I was conscripted. We all were.¡± Six¡¯s eyes widen. ¡°Conscripted? The Grand General is resorting to conscription to get his men?¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t mean I wanted to betray them.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t betray anyone,¡± Six says. ¡°You can¡¯t be expected to sit still and let yourself be executed for nothing.¡± I hug my knees tighter as the dead face of the honey-haired guard flashes through my mind. ¡°Anything is excusable in times of war. Isn¡¯t that how it goes?¡± ¡°There isn¡¯t a war.¡± Finally, someone who admits the thing I¡¯ve been saying for weeks, and it¡¯s an enemy soldier. Six smiles at the look on my face and shrugs. ¡°I don¡¯t know that you could call it peace, exactly, not since the Border Skirmishes.¡± ¡°That was part of the Coastal War?¡± ¡°No, after. Just small attacks on the border cities, but the last real battle was almost a decade ago. There were even rumors that Anvarr Ryvenlock was going to sign a peace treaty, not that it ever went anywhere. Your Grand General Ambritten is willing to go to any length for power, so I doubt peace is on his mind.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± He frowns. ¡°Don¡¯t you know how he came to power?¡± ¡°He killed King Anvarr,¡± I say. I hadn¡¯t thought about the specifics. ¡°He killed the entire Ryvenlock family,¡± Six says. ¡°And all the nobles who would not support him. The youngest Ryvenlock princess was only eight years old. Some of the children of the nobility were younger still. He killed them all.¡± My stomach churns. ¡°Why? Because King Anvarr wanted peace?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think he wanted peace,¡± Six says. ¡°The Coastal Wars were started by Awnia, not Ieli. But Ryvenlock couldn¡¯t afford to keep them going, not while paying for the lifestyle his queen wanted. The treaty King Alluxe offered would have granted most of the Border Mountains and the Norvalg province to Ieli. Maybe that¡¯s why Ambritten attacked when he did.¡± ¡°He killed so many to keep Ieli from controlling some land? What difference would it have made to the people living there who their king was?¡± ¡°It made a difference to Ambritten,¡± Six says. I tap my fingers along my knee absently. ¡°There¡¯s a rumor that one of the princes escaped.¡± ¡°The words of desperate men hoping for a miracle,¡± Six says. ¡°Nothing more. The Ryvenlocks are dead.¡± Before I can think of a response, Redge steps into the hollow with an armful of wood. ¡°Is Iorin or Thare back yet?¡± ¡°Do you see them?¡± Six says. ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll be back soon? With an elk maybe?¡± ¡°Even you couldn¡¯t eat a whole elk.¡± Redge wrinkles his nose and looks at me. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with him?¡± ¡°Nothing,¡± Six answers. His voice is a half sigh, and he runs a restless hand through his hair as he speaks. ¡°I¡¯m worried about the tunnel, that¡¯s all.¡± ¡°Why not send Orami to warn Captain Bayal?¡± Redge suggests. ¡°He could probably get there tonight yet.¡± But Six is shaking his head before Redge finishes his words. ¡°I don¡¯t want him out there on his own after dark. Besides, he hasn¡¯t seen the tunnel and Bayal will want to know exactly where it is. It¡¯ll have to wait for morning.¡± Redge accepts his decision without argument, stacking the wood in a neat pile and lying down beside it. ¡°Wake me when there¡¯s food,¡± he says, folding his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. Six glances at me. ¡°You should get some sleep too.¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. I shake my head. ¡°I¡¯m not tired.¡± ¡°Rule number four,¡± Redge says without opening his eyes. ¡°Rest when you can.¡± ¡°Yesterday you said that was rule number two,¡± Six says. ¡°Orami said it was two¡ªhe doesn¡¯t know anything. Rule number two is ¡®Always wear clean boots¡¯.¡± ¡°Then take your own advice and rest,¡± Six says, and Redge falls silent. He looks back to me and gives me the same stern look he¡¯d sent toward Redge, but I stare back, undaunted. Six and I might have been forced to work together to escape the fort, but it doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m safe with him. ¡°What will happen to me when we get to your unit?¡± I ask, my gaze locked with his. ¡°Am I a prisoner?¡± Six tilts his head. ¡°No... and yes. You won¡¯t be locked in a guardhouse, but you also won¡¯t have free range of the unit.¡± ¡°Your captain will question me,¡± I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking. ¡°Like you were questioned.¡± ¡°No,¡± he says firmly. ¡°Not like that. He¡¯ll talk to you, but no one will lay a hand on you. You have my word.¡± ¡°How can you speak for your captain?¡± I ask, searching for a sign that might distinguish his rank. ¡°Are you a tenant?¡± From across the hollow, Redge lets out a snort that he tries to turn into a snore. Six ignores him. ¡°I don¡¯t hold any official rank. I¡¯m just a ranger. But Captain Bayal listens to me, as he listens to all his men. And he doesn¡¯t hold with torture.¡± I nod, trying to soothe the fear pulsing through me. Chass was only one rank below Oristel and he could do nothing to help me. What can Six do that Chass couldn¡¯t? As if sensing my disbelief, Six gives me a reassuring smile. ¡°Things are different in Ieli. You¡¯ll see.¡± We lapse into silence. Minutes slide into hours, and I have to get up a few times to pace the length of the hollow, unable to stay still for so long. There¡¯s nothing to do¡ªno rocks to load into a wheelbarrow, no herbs to collect, nothing. Redge seems content to nap the time away, but Six alternates between closing his eyes and watching my restless march. ¡°Sit down,¡± he says finally. ¡°You¡¯re making me¡ª¡± A rustle of footsteps cuts him off, and Iorin steps through the trees with an oruusk slung over one shoulder. He drops the small deer-like creature at the edge of the firelight with a low grunt. ¡°Good man, Iorin,¡± Six says, tossing a stick at Redge to wake him. ¡°You always find something.¡± Iorin smiles. The setting sun highlights his sharp cheekbones and amber-brown eyes, which focus on the oruusk as he pulls out a knife. Soon there will be only the light of the fire, and preparing a deer for cooking with no light is messy work. Redge sits up and grins at the oruusk. ¡°Ah, thank you. But where¡¯s yours?¡± ¡°You can¡¯t have any. Go find your own.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve found it,¡± Redge answers, crouching beside the body and tying back his long hair with a strip of cord. ¡°Do you want the help or not?¡± They work efficiently, and by the time it¡¯s dark they¡¯ve nearly completed quartering the meat. I move over by Six, watching them appreciatively. ¡°Should I dig a pit?¡± I ask. He gives me a surprised look, so I add, ¡°For smoking the meat?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve never done it that way.¡± I shrug, and he waves toward the fire. ¡°By all means, educate us.¡± While Redge and Iorin prepare the venison, I use a long, flat rock to dig a pit beside the fire. I make it as even as possible, digging down about a foot, and then use the wood Redge collected earlier to build a square of logs at the bottom. Once I¡¯ve got them stacked a few layers high, I fill the center with pinecones and twigs before lighting them with a branch from the fire. By the time I¡¯m finished, Iorin and Redge have most of the meat ready. I lay five long sticks across the opening of my pit and Iorin drapes chunks of meat over them to cook. ¡°Not bad,¡± he says, smiling. ¡°Do you cook often?¡± I nod. Iorin looks over his shoulder at Redge, who is gathering the skin and bones of the oruusk together to bury outside of camp. ¡°Brennr says he can cook.¡± ¡°Nobody in this company knows anything about cooking,¡± Redge calls back. ¡°The meat is either raw or burned and always tastes like ash.¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t got any seasonings,¡± I say. ¡°Seasonings are wasted on them,¡± Iorin tells me. ¡°They couldn¡¯t taste the difference between thyme and turmeric.¡± ¡°Excuse us for not all having refined Elni palates,¡± Redge says, rolling his eyes at me. ¡°He studies there a few years and forgets how the rest of the world operates.¡± ¡°15 years.¡± Redge bows to acknowledge the correction. 15 years in Elni, the Ielic capital city. I want to ask what he was studying¡ªand why he left¡ªbut Iorin finishes laying the meat over the sticks and wipes his hands clean in the snow. ¡°How long will it take?¡± he asks. Six cracks his fingers. ¡°Long enough. Go relieve Orami. We¡¯ll bring you some food when it¡¯s done.¡± A few moments after Iorin wanders out of sight, Orami steps into the dimmed circle of firelight and sniffs the air. ¡°Is Six cooking?¡± ¡°No,¡± Six answers. ¡°Brennr is.¡± ¡°Thank the Pathkeeper.¡± Orami drops beside the fire and sighs. ¡°The last time you cooked, I was sick for days.¡± Redge snickers from outside the hollow. ¡°You weren¡¯t the only one.¡± ¡°I have other talents,¡± Six huffs. ¡°Like in getting captured,¡± Thare says, stalking into camp with a rabbit in each hand. ¡°What did Iorin find?¡± ¡°Oruusk,¡± Six answers. ¡°Cut those up, we¡¯ll smoke whatever¡¯s left after dinner.¡± I settle in to watch the meat, my restlessness fading now that I have something to focus on. Thare goes out to replace Iorin on watch, and I try not to feel envious of how the others chatter amiably, teasing and joking while I sit at the edge of the fire, an intruder on their companionship. ¡°Hey,¡± Orami says. I listen with my eyes on my smoke pit, but he clears his throat and adds, ¡°Brennr?¡± I look up, surprised. ¡°You¡¯re a healer, right?¡± Orami goes on. At my hesitant nod, he grins and reaches for his glove. ¡°Great. Can you take a look at this? I cut my hand a few days ago, but it¡¯s not getting any better. Iorin thinks it might be getting infected.¡± He holds out his hand, but Redge knocks it down and shoots an apologetic glance at me. ¡°Sorry, but¡ªOrami, this is an enemy soldier. We don¡¯t know if we can trust him.¡± ¡°Of course we can trust him,¡± Orami says. ¡°He saved Six.¡± ¡°To save himself,¡± Redge says. I look back at the pit. He¡¯s not wrong, but his words rankle. I poke at a strip of half-cooked meat and clench my jaw to keep my mouth closed. ¡°And he¡¯s a healer,¡± Orami says, undeterred. ¡°A healer would never hurt anyone asking for help, even if it¡¯s an enemy.¡± Redge snorts. ¡°Tell that to Somre. He threatened to cut off my leg last winter.¡± ¡°That¡¯s because it was infected,¡± Iorin puts in. ¡°It would have killed you.¡± ¡°And he ended up curing it anyway,¡± Orami adds. ¡°It was still a threat,¡± Redge says. ¡°Well I trust him,¡± Orami says, standing and moving deliberately toward me. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, Brennr. You don¡¯t have to.¡± With a glance at Redge, I shift to make room beside my smoke pit. ¡°I don¡¯t have any supplies.¡± ¡°Somre will help when we get back the unit,¡± Orami says. ¡°But I¡¯d feel better if someone who knows what to look for takes a look at it.¡± He holds out his hand. A small cut splits the skin on his palm, and I lean closer to inspect the clearly inflamed wound. He crouches next to me, wincing when I gently prod the skin. ¡°It is infected, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°An infection might be starting,¡± I say, turning his hand toward the light. ¡°But it isn¡¯t bad yet. You should have it covered.¡± ¡°But it¡¯ll keep until tomorrow?¡± Orami asks. I nod. If I had Edlan¡¯s bag, I might have been able to scrape a fingernail of salve from the empty container¡ªit wouldn¡¯t take much, just something to keep the wound clean until it can be properly treated. At the very least, I still had a few bandages left. Now there¡¯s nothing but¡ª I reach into my jacket pocket and exhale when I find the dried moss from my monthly bleeding supplies. ¡°Here,¡± I say, pulling out a small piece and pressing it into the cut. ¡°This will help draw out the infection. It will still need to be cleaned, but this will keep it from getting worse.¡± ¡°You said you didn¡¯t have any supplies,¡± Orami says. ¡°I usually keep a little extra in my pockets,¡± I say, taking his glove and sliding it carefully over his hand. ¡°Try to keep the moss in place.¡± Orami flexes his hand, grinning. ¡°Amazing! It already feels better!¡± His exaggeration pulls a smile to my lips, and I settle back, feeling a little less ostracized. I even catch Iorin¡¯s smile as Orami returns to the fire. He blows on his carving, which he¡¯d taken out again once he¡¯d finished eating. When he notices my attention, he holds it up so I can see the outstretched wings of his wooden raven. ¡°An offering for the Pathkeeper,¡± he says, tucking it into a crook in the tree he¡¯s leaning against. ¡°For guiding Six back to us.¡± A pang of homesickness makes me look away. My worship has always been a blend of styles absorbed through my different heritages. Awnians tend to focus their adoration on Ieldran, the creator of the world, who gives wisdom and power to his children. Saani embrace the persona of the Phoenix, the role Ieldran took to save humanity, and appeal to his great love and protection. Though Papa''s time in the Coastal Wars introduced him to Awnian habits, he never forgot his Saani roots, and he introduced them both to Aze and me when we were young. But it was Mama who taught us to worship like an Ielic. Ieldran''s third form, the Pathkeeper, is revered in Ieli for his guidance. It is the Pathkeeper who welcomes home all departed souls, and the Pathkeeper who brings the lost back to safety. I''ve never seen anyone but Mama offer him a gift, and my eyes sting at the old memories. Pathkeeper, guide me back to them someday. When the meat is finished, Six tells me to choose my portion before he passes out the rest to the rangers. ¡°The cook eats first,¡± he says, but the others wait for me to take my first bite before tearing into their own. As if I¡¯d had a chance to poison it with them all sitting there and watching me. Together they eat most of the oruusk, but a few strips remain along with Thare¡¯s rabbits. I rearrange the meat in my smoke pit so it can cure overnight, then lean back against a tree trunk and try not to feel annoyed when Six leaves me out of the watch schedule. I don¡¯t want to stand watch, especially since I¡¯ll have to sleep with one eye open in case one of the rangers decides to act on their distrust. But it would be nice to not have their every action scream you¡¯re an outsider¡ªyou¡¯re the enemy. But I suppose I am. Or they are. I¡¯m not sure how to look at it, but the result is the same. I¡¯m alone, friendless, and farther from home than I¡¯ve ever been. ¡°We¡¯ll leave at dawn,¡± Six tells me, ignorant of my personal crisis. I don¡¯t answer. All I can do is curl up against my tree trunk as the others settle in for sleep. I stare into the fire, knowing it will ruin my night vision but unable to look away. The heat and smoke burns my eyes, urging them closed, warding off my efforts to keep watch over the rangers. I fall asleep to the sound of quiet breathing, and I dream about running from the men who used to be my neighbors. Chapter Thirteen A rustle of movement startles me awake, and I blink at the glow of sunlight coloring the sky. I push away from the tree trunk, wincing as my muscles tighten in protest. The rangers are already busy erasing our presence from the little hollow, packing up the smoked meat and burying the remains of the fire. ¡°Shall I scout ahead?¡± Thare asks. Six shakes his head. ¡°Watch our back trail in case the Awnians are still around,¡± he says. ¡°But stay close. I want us together when we join up with the regiment.¡± Thare melts into the space between two trees without answering. Six takes one last look over the campsite and, satisfied with the results, climbs out of the hollow. I fall into line a few steps behind Six while the others range out to either side until I only glimpse them every few minutes, moving between the pines like shadows. After a couple hours of walking, the mountainside levels out and the forest thins. I scan the underbrush for herbs, and am so caught up in my task that I jump when Thare appears at my side. He ignores me and continues to Six. ¡°Unit¡¯s close,¡± he says. ¡°We should reach them within the hour. No sign of anyone following.¡± Six nods, and Thare stands aside to join the back of the line. The other rangers have rejoined the procession as well, drifting out of the trees and walking as though each step into Ieli renews their energy. I look back at the cover of the mountain as the ground levels out, feeling like a rabbit caught too far from its burrow. Up ahead, two men lean against one of the remaining trees. They snap to attention when they see us, but relax when they recognize Six. ¡°You¡¯re late,¡± of them says. Six brushes past the first man and fixes his eyes on the second. ¡°Where¡¯s Captain Bayal?¡± The second man resumes his resting position against the tree and tosses his head behind him. ¡°Expecting you. We were told to send you to his tent as soon as you arrived.¡± Six nods and starts past, but the first man holds out his sword to block my path. ¡°Who¡¯s this?¡± ¡°He¡¯s with us,¡± Six says. The man looks down his nose at me, angling his blade to set the point against my chest. ¡°A prisoner?¡± ¡°Six said he¡¯s with us,¡± Iorin says, stepping past Orami to stand behind me. ¡°We¡¯re taking him to see Captain Bayal.¡± The man shrugs, dropping his sword. ¡°On your head, then.¡± Iorin puts a hand on my shoulder and guides me past the sentries. When we¡¯ve gone a few yards from them, he pats my arm and releases me. ¡°Expect some stares,¡± he says quietly. ¡°But no one will question you as long as you¡¯re with us.¡± I nod and try to put on a brave face. Before us is the main branch of Six¡¯s unit¡ªhundreds of men in various positions of resting, polishing, sharpening, and sparring. A few turn to watch us as we pass through paths in the chaos, muttering to each other and pointing at us. At me. Six leads the way to a large tent with men stationed outside. When they see him, one ducks his head through the entrance and reappears seconds later, holding the flap open for us. ¡°Redge,¡± Six says, waving for him to enter. ¡°The rest of you, replace our supplies. We¡¯ll fill you in after.¡± The tent is lit by a pair of lanterns on a wooden table in the center of the space, around which stand three men. One, who appears to be in his early forties, leans on the table and studies a map spread across it. The man beside him holds a rolled-up scroll in one hand and reads the map over the other¡¯s shoulder, his long black hair tied neatly at the nape of his neck. The third, at least ten years older than the other two, stands a few paces away and watches them with a scowl on his face. They look up as we enter, and the man at the table straightens. ¡°Where have you been?¡± His eyes fall on me and dart back to Six for an explanation. ¡°This is Brennr,¡± Six says. ¡°He helped me escape after I was captured by the Awnians.¡± ¡°Explain.¡± Six tells his story, starting with finding the tunnel and ending with the rangers¡¯ vote to bring me here. Unlike when he told the other scouts, no one interrupts with questions or comments. No one says anything, even after he finishes; they seem to be waiting for something else to happen. Waiting for the man by the table, most likely. He looks me over, a frown settling over his brown face, and I try not to fidget. Finally he says in Awnian, ¡°I am Captain Tiiberial Bayal. You saved the life of one of my men, and for that I am grateful, but you have the opportunity now to save even more lives. It will require a difficult choice, and I am sorry to say that I cannot give you much time to consider it.¡± He pauses, watching for my reaction, but I only swallow and wait for him to ask me to betray my country. His voice is a bright, metallic gold I haven¡¯t seen before, and I¡¯m not sure what to make of it. Unlike Oristel, Captain Bayal looks like a true soldier. He wears shining plate mail with a cinquen¡ªa belt with strips of studded leather marking him as captain. A blue scarf is tied at his neck beneath his breastplate. Oristel carried an ornate sword, but Bayal wears a thick leaf-shaped blade about the length of his forearm on his hip. A longer sword is strapped across his back, and he carries the weight as if he¡¯d be incomplete without it. His dark hair is cut short, simple and practical, and he watches me through a pair of brown eyes that remind me of the polished wood on Edlan¡¯s desk. A man without ornament, without airs. A man I can be honest with. ¡°I am loyal to the men from my village,¡± I answer at last, in Ielic. ¡°The soldiers from the fort conscripted us a month ago to dig their tunnel. We had no choice, and the more I learn about the Grand General, the less I wish to serve him.¡± I take a breath, watching the captain¡¯s face for his reaction. ¡°My mother is from Ieli, but my father served Awnia in the Coastal Wars. I won¡¯t help you hurt my people.¡± The captain presses his lips together and glances at the man on his left, who wears the same uniform, armor, and swords, but his cinquen is shorter than Bayal¡¯s and the scarf at his throat is white. ¡°This is Commander Ilaric Vikko,¡± Bayal says. ¡°My second-in-command. And Tuuro Somre, head physician.¡± He nods to the older man, the only one not dressed for battle. Instead, he wears the simple tunic-and-jacket combination favored by mountain folk. ¡°Perhaps we can help each other,¡± Captain Bayal goes on. ¡°If you tell me about the tunnel and the Awnians¡¯ plans for it, I may be able to seal it without risk to your people. Perhaps we may even be able to help your fellow villagers.¡± Hope flares in my chest, hot and painful. ¡°You would free them?¡± I breathe. ¡°Contrary to what you might expect from my profession,¡± he says. ¡°I do not celebrate killing. I would rather your people return to their lives as farmers than continue as soldiers.¡± I glance at Six, who nods in encouragement, and turn back to search the captain¡¯s hard face for any hint of deception. ¡°Before I tell you anything,¡± I say slowly. ¡°I must have your word that you will do your best not to harm them and that you will release them back to their homes.¡± ¡°If it is within my power to do so,¡± Bayal agrees. ¡°I will do it. You have my word.¡± A golden halo burns over his words¡ªhe¡¯s telling the truth. I take a shallow breath. ¡°I was told the Awnians were not planning an invasion. The tunnel was a security in case Ieli attacked, nothing more. But when Six was captured, it seemed many in the fort wanted to push forward with an attack. I don¡¯t know what their plans are now.¡± ¡°An Ielic prisoner escaped with knowledge of the tunnel,¡± Vikko says, his voice a deep, rich red. ¡°That alone would escalate any plans they may have had.¡± ¡°With this tunnel, the Awnians could save weeks of travel through the mountain passes,¡± Somre puts in slowly. ¡°We¡¯re the only unit near this part of the border. We wouldn¡¯t stand a chance against an organized attack.¡± Captain Bayal looks at Six without turning his head from me. ¡°Could we block the tunnel?¡± ¡°With time, maybe,¡± Six answers. ¡°But the Awnians would stop us before we succeeded.¡± ¡°Would it be possible to collapse it?¡± ¡°There were guards posted outside the tunnel. We¡¯d be found out before we could do any damage.¡± Bayal touches the short beard on his chin and frowns at me. ¡°How many soldiers are there within the fort?¡± Traitor, Oristel¡¯s voice says in my head. I clear my throat. ¡°Perhaps a hundred and fifty, including the trainees.¡± The captain shares a look with Vikko, who appears just as troubled by the information. ¡°Ielics value personal freedom,¡± he says. ¡°We do not have to force our soldiers to serve. King¡ª¡± He breaks off and sends another glance to Vikko. ¡°Our former king, ¨®rsurin, would have considered it his duty to release your people. We cannot simply block the tunnel. We will have to take it.¡± ¡°We will have to send a messenger to King Aquillis,¡± Vikko says. ¡°As soon as possible. We can¡¯t be left to defend the border alone.¡± ¡°Go,¡± Bayal says, and Vikko sweeps out of the tent. The captain looks at me again, folding his arms. ¡°Now what to do with you?¡± My stomach clenches. I open my mouth, but he goes on before I can speak. ¡°You were taken into the Awnian army against your will,¡± he says. ¡°What would you be doing if you weren¡¯t a soldier?¡± I choose to interpret that as What would you rather be doing? ¡°I trained under an healer in my village,¡± I say. ¡°My apprenticeship would have ended in the spring. All I¡¯ve ever wanted is to be a healer.¡± Bayal rubs his chin again. ¡°The world can always do with more healers. If you are telling the truth, you will be set free with the rest of your village.¡± ¡°I am telling the truth,¡± I say, and then hesitate. The captain¡¯s eyebrows go up, and I rush on. ¡°That is, most of the men were taken against their will. I didn¡¯t need to go, since my brother was already going to serve for my family.¡± ¡°Then you volunteered,¡± the captain says. ¡°That changes things.¡± ¡°I went in place of another family. One that had no man to send, who would have had to give a child instead. I took his place.¡± Captain Bayal flicks a look at his physician. ¡°What do you think, Somre?¡± ¡°Hard to tell,¡± Somre answers. ¡°I can test him, see what he knows... I could always use more help.¡± The captain nods. ¡°Very well. Brennr, was it? You shall be given over to Somre¡¯s care until we receive word from King Aquillis in Elni. Is that acceptable to you?¡± I blink at the physician, resisting the urge to look back at Six. I can¡¯t exactly call him a friend, but something in me hesitates at being parted from him. He is my last tie to the fort¡ªto Aze. But Six says nothing, so I give a feeble nod to Somre. ¡°It¡¯s settled then.¡± Bayal gives me a smile and steps away from the table. He walks with a stiff limp, and for the first time I notice a plain vinewood cane leaning against the side of the table. ¡°You are not to go anywhere without an escort,¡± he says. ¡°And you will need to change clothes. We can¡¯t let you walk around in Awnian colors.¡± I put my hand self-consciously on my sword, and he notices. ¡°I will allow you to keep your weapon as long as you prove yourself trustworthy with it.¡± ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± It must be clear that I don¡¯t know how to use the sword if he¡¯s willing to let me keep it. ¡°I¡¯ll get him a change of clothes,¡± Six volunteers. He turns to go, but Bayal stops him with a quiet question. ¡°How did you escape?¡± Six tilts his head. ¡°I told you, sir. Brennr created a diversion.¡± ¡°What kind of diversion?¡± Six looks at me, and I know that this time, he will give up my secret. He owes his allegiance to his captain, not to me. I shake my head, my stomach rolling, but he has the nerve to smile. ¡°Bayal is a good man,¡± he says softly. ¡°You can trust him.¡± This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. But can I trust Six? Self-pity crusts over the gash of fear in my stomach. This wasn¡¯t supposed to happen. I wish I was back at the fort, wrapped up in my scratchy blanket, listening to Aze and the other boys sleeping around me. Or better yet, back home with Mama and Papa, making tea and feeding the animals. And waiting for Bronhold to return and make me his wife? No. I knew that there would be risks when I left home, and there¡¯s no reversing that decision now. Whatever awaits me at the end of this path, I have to see it through. With a hard swallow, I conjure up the warmth of last night¡¯s smoke pit and the warm taste of fennel. ¡°Fire,¡± I whisper. A tiny flame kindles to life on my fingertips, flickering uncertainly as I try to summon the courage to look at the captain. Behind me, Redge gasps, ¡°Wordweaver,¡± like the name is a curse. My heart beats faster, and the flame sputters in response. ¡°I caused an earthquake,¡± I say quietly, releasing the power and letting my fire fizzle out. ¡°Six and I ran in the confusion, and when the soldiers chased us, I froze their feet to the ground so we could escape through the tunnel.¡± Captain Bayal blinks his eyes back to my face. ¡°Yours is a rare gift,¡± he says. ¡°Did your commander at the fort know you had it?¡± ¡°Not until I used it to escape.¡± ¡°Why keep it secret?¡± I catch myself twisting my fingers together and force them to still. ¡°My father told me stories about the Coastal Wars... about Wordweavers used in battles, being forced to kill.¡± I swallow. ¡°I¡¯m a healer. I don¡¯t want to use my abilities for anything else.¡± Across the tent, Somre lifts heavy gray eyebrows. Bayal keeps his eyes on me. ¡°Do you not fear that fate now?¡± ¡°If you value freedom,¡± I answer carefully. ¡°You will not force me to fight for you.¡± He doesn¡¯t quite smile, but his eyes are bright with something like approval. ¡°In Ieli, Wordweavers work in their own interests,¡± he says. ¡°Many hire themselves out as builders, fighters, or healers, and most make a great deal of money doing so. Unfortunately, I do not have the authority to hire you¡ªthat would require permission from King Aquillis. We don¡¯t have time to wait for his response, but your intervention on this mission could prevent casualties.¡± ¡°If you think I can be helpful,¡± I say in a small voice. He looks to Six and gives a curt nod. ¡°Get him a change of clothes, then take him to Somre for an assessment of his healing skills.¡± Six salutes and nods at me before leaving the tent. I glance back before following him and Redge out, but the captain has already returned his attention to the map. Orami is waiting for us outside. ¡°Vikko gave the order to start breaking camp,¡± he says. ¡°I guess that means we¡¯re going back to the tunnel?¡± ¡°Not yet,¡± Six answers. ¡°We need permission from the king first.¡± ¡°Won¡¯t that take too long?¡± ¡°There¡¯s no way around it.¡± ¡°Not going would be a way around it,¡± Redge mutters, pushing through Six and Orami and stalking away. Orami frowns at me. ¡°What happened in there?¡± ¡°Brennr is a Wordweaver,¡± Six answers. ¡°Oh.¡± My face burns, but my spine is straight. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with that?¡± Orami opens his mouth, but Six¡¯s sigh cuts him off. ¡°Redge has his reasons for distrusting Wordweavers. I thought hearing it in front of the captain would help, but... Well, he¡¯ll come around eventually. Orami, did you resupply?¡± ¡°Iorin¡¯s taking care of it.¡± ¡°Good.¡± Six claps Orami on the shoulder and gestures after Redge. ¡°Get some rest while you can.¡± ¡°Rule number seven,¡± the boy says. ¡°Go on. Brennr and I are going to get him some new clothes. We don¡¯t want any more trouble.¡± Obediently, Orami turns to follow Redge while Six leads me back out into the unit. Men in red clothing look up, staring openly as they take in the black and silver on my arm. Voices hum around us, but apparently Six¡¯s presence is enough to keep them at bay. No one approaches, but several hands reach for swords as we pass. ¡°Do the Ielics really not force men into service?¡± I ask, desperate to distract myself from the murmurs and pointing. Six slides his hands into the pockets of his jacket. ¡°No. King ¨®rsurin stopped that practice when he was crowned, and his brother Aquillis has kept the same rules since his death. Only men willing to serve are accepted.¡± ¡°And women?¡± Six laughs. ¡°Is that supposed to be an insult?¡± ¡°There¡¯s nothing insulting about being called a woman,¡± I say stiffly. ¡°In my village, women do most of the same work men do¡ªespecially now with the men gone. Why should they be barred from fighting if they want to help?¡± Six tilts his head, and I launch into my next argument. ¡°If women¡ª¡± ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he says. I snap my mouth shut, frowning, and he laughs. ¡°What, you¡¯re not used to being right?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not used to others admitting it,¡± I say. Men, specifically. He runs a hand through his dark hair, tipping back his head to look at the sky. ¡°There are women here in the camp. I¡¯ve seen how hard they work to keep their men clothed and fed, to care for the children the men leave behind. They march with us everywhere but into battle, and then all they can do is wait and hope. They bear everything the men do, plus the burden of knowing that each mission could be the end of everything they know. Soldiers die and go on to the Pathkeeper, and their worries are over¡ªthe women are the ones who have to keep going when the battle is done. I would rather face an enemy sword than have to sit back and wait for it to strike the ones I love. Why shouldn¡¯t women have the same choice?¡± ¡°But¡­ can¡¯t they?¡± Six answers without taking his gaze from the sky. ¡°Have you heard of Belendres Pathmaker?¡± I shake my head. ¡°He¡¯s a famous Ielic warrior,¡± Six says. ¡°From the Coastal Wars. He started in the infantry as a nameless foot soldier, but after his first battle, he distinguished himself and began to rise in rank. By the end of his third year in the army, he had been named captain. His bravery and cleverness were unparalleled in Ieli or Awnia. Even the Ryvenlocks heard of his deeds and feared any battle they knew he would be a part of.¡± ¡°But?¡± I ask, anticipating the ending. ¡°But after five years, he was finally struck in battle. It was a severe wound, and the best healers were sent to tend to him, including the king¡¯s personal physician. Care to guess who?¡± I frown, then blink in surprise. ¡°You don¡¯t mean Somre?¡± A faint smile crinkles the corners of his eyes. ¡°The same.¡± ¡°Somre was the king¡¯s physician? But then¡­ why is he here?¡± Six takes a breath, looking down at me at last. He¡¯s not as tall as Chass¡ªor even Aze¡ªbut he still has several inches on me, and he has to angle his head down so I can see his face. ¡°When Somre arrived, he discovered that Belendres hadn¡¯t been entirely truthful when he enlisted.¡± I watch his eyes, trying to guess his thoughts. ¡°Belendres was a woman.¡± He hums an affirmative. ¡°When her commander found out, he spread a rumor that Belendres Pathmaker had succumbed to his wounds.¡± ¡°But¡­ she risked her life for five years and was even injured in service. They made her fake her death rather than admit their greatest warrior was a woman?¡± ¡°They didn¡¯t fake it.¡± I stop to stare at him. ¡°What?¡± ¡°She wouldn¡¯t go through with the plan,¡± he says. ¡°When she made it clear that she intended to make her identity known, they ambushed her in the middle of the night and slit her throat.¡± Nausea bubbles up in my stomach like fish churning the surface of a lake. ¡°After everything they did to save her life... after everything she¡¯d done for them. They betrayed her?¡± Six nods and looks away. ¡°Somre was furious. He resigned his position with the king¡¯s attendants and returned to Elni, where he met up with Commander Vikko. He and Vikko knew each other from their training days, and when Captain Bayal appointed Vikko as his second-in-command, Somre went with him. They¡¯ve been here ever since.¡± I rub the thumb of my gloved hand along my bare palm. If that¡¯s how they treated a national war hero, what would they do to me? ¡°Did anyone else know about her?¡± I ask. ¡°I mean, she couldn¡¯t have preserved her secret all on her own, could she? Someone else had to know.¡± ¡°If they did, they didn¡¯t come forward,¡± Six answers. ¡°And she didn¡¯t give their names away. But anyone who knew would likely have suffered the same punishment.¡± I look away. I¡¯ll just have to leave before anyone can find out then. My situation isn¡¯t like hers¡ªI¡¯m not trying to be a hero. I just want to find a little village where I can practice my healing and live out my days in peace. ¡°What was her name?¡± I ask after a few moments. ¡°Her real name.¡± Six shakes his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I doubt anyone does.¡± Guilt and fear join the nausea, pounding through my body with every heartbeat. Will I end up the same way? Just a nameless girl caught where she doesn¡¯t belong, tossed aside to make room for the men she lied to? I am struck by the sudden urge to tell him not to call me Brennr anymore, to hear my real name spoken again. To go back to being Ynria, healer¡¯s apprentice, shepherd¡¯s daughter. And Wordweaver, whispers a selfish voice from deep inside. That¡¯s asking too much. I push the thought back into the secret place in my heart where it belongs. ¡°Here we are,¡± Six says, opening the flap of a large tent. ¡°Take off that armband and your padded shirt¡ªno one in Ieli wears cloth armor. It marks you as Awnian as clearly as the black and silver.¡± I fidget with my scarf. ¡°What do Ielics wear for armor, then?¡± ¡°Nothing.¡± Six runs his hand along the shelf at his shoulder until he finds a squat cloth pack, which he tosses to me. ¡°Those who can afford it buy chain or scale mail, but most of the men carry shields.¡± Except Six is wearing leather armor, and I haven¡¯t seen any of the rangers with shields. I look at the wrist guards on his arms and back up at him, lifting my eyebrows in a silent question. He laughs. ¡°Metal armor is too loud on missions and shields are impractical in the denser parts of the forest, so Bayal provided leather for me and the other rangers. You shouldn¡¯t need to worry, though. You won¡¯t be close enough to the battle to need armor.¡± He hands me a red linen tunic and turns away to fill my new pack with supplies: a bedroll with an extra blanket, a mess kit, an extra pair of stockings, a waterskin, a bar of soap, a whetstone, flint, and a sewing kit. I remove my padded shirt, but hesitate over the new tunic. My shirt is filthy with sweat and dirt, and though the tunic is old, it smells like tallow and ash¡ªcrude soap, but better than nothing. It¡¯s clean, and that¡¯s more than I can say for anything else I have. Twisting to put my back to Six, I tug the tunic over my head and pull the shirt off underneath. It¡¯s not as thick as my shirt, but with my jacket, I¡¯ll be plenty warm. I wrap my scarf around my neck as Six finishes with the pack and holds it out to me. ¡°Now,¡± he says, stuffing my discarded shirt into the pack. ¡°On to Somre¡¯s.¡± Somre¡¯s infirmary is a long tent filled with cots and tables, like a field version of Edlan¡¯s sick room. The physician hovers over a table at the far end of the tent, his back to us, and he doesn¡¯t seem to notice our entrance. Six smiles at me and clears his throat. ¡°Somre?¡± The physician turns, barely sparing a glance before turning back to his work. ¡°Larkspur?¡± ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Six answers. ¡°I¡¯ve brought Brennr.¡± ¡°About time.¡± Somre turns back to us, speaking in a tone that somehow conveys both kindness and irritation. ¡°Let¡¯s see just how much experience you¡¯ve got, then.¡± ¡°I¡ª¡± I begin, but Somre talks over me. ¡°Come here, boy, we haven¡¯t got all day. Larkspur, you may go.¡± Six mouths ¡°good luck¡± and abandons me to the physician. I watch him go, rubbing my fingers together as Somre shuffles through the supplies on his table. ¡°Why did you call Six Larkspur?¡± I ask. ¡°Ah¡ªthat. It¡¯s my way of coping with a specific kind of blindness.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t recognize faces.¡± I stare at him, mystified, and he snorts. ¡°I can see you, boy, and I can read your expression. I just can¡¯t recognize you as you. I can¡¯t even tell the difference between a stranger¡¯s face and my own reflection. Thus, I must find other ways to recognize those around me. The different colored scarves were Vikko¡¯s idea¡ªblue for the captain, white for him, green for the rangers, scarlet for archers, and so on.¡± ¡°Like my colors,¡± I say. ¡°What colors?¡± ¡°Oh, I¡ª¡± My face warms, but Somre¡¯s attention never wavers. ¡°I¡­ I sometimes see words and voices as colors.¡± Somre¡¯s gray eyebrows lift. ¡°Fascinating. Is it related to your Wordweaving?¡± When I shrug, he asks, ¡°What do they mean?¡± ¡°They¡¯re nothing important.¡± ¡°Come now.¡± Somre sits on the edge of the table and gestures for me to speak. ¡°There¡¯s no need to fear me. I¡¯m interested in the knowledge, that¡¯s all.¡± Like Edlan. I bite the inside of my lip, but his expectant silence compels me to speak. ¡°Sometimes they represent emotion or personality,¡± I say haltingly, reaching up to fidget with the edge of my scarf. My fingers touch the ring at my throat, and its cool solidness settles me. ¡°It¡¯s like¡­ reading someone¡¯s body language. Just another layer to understand.¡± ¡°You can tell a stranger¡¯s personality by the color of his voice?¡± My fingers itch with nervous energy. I want to get on with the test, but something tells me Somre won¡¯t let this go until I satisfy his curiosity. ¡°When you look at me,¡± I say, switching tactics. ¡°What do you see?¡± Somre¡¯s gray eyes focus on my face, my hair, my clothes. ¡°You stand as if the weight of your sword is foreign,¡± he says slowly. ¡°Not a warrior. You only wear one glove, likely because you removed the other to Wordweave, and yet you keep this one on¡ªperhaps to hide the scars on your hands. And your hair has been dyed, recently enough to still hold most of its color, but long enough ago that the roots are growing through.¡± I put a reflexive hand to the back of my head. ¡°I took the place of another boy,¡± I say in a rush. ¡°I couldn¡¯t risk being recognized before we left the village.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Somre says, bowing his head a little as though making a great concession. I speak over the accusation he won¡¯t say out loud. ¡°You may not be able to tell my personality for certain, but you have an impression. It¡¯s the same with the colors.¡± ¡°Fascinating.¡± He looks me up and down again, eyebrows raised. ¡°And what color do you see in me? What does it tell you?¡± I consider the physician, unable to keep from comparing him to Edlan. Edlan is older, frail where Somre still looks strong, though the signs of age are starting to crowd his features. His gray eyes are bright in a face bronzed by exposure to the coastal sun, and the lines around his mouth and eyes speak of as many smiles as frowns. ¡°Green,¡± I say finally, focusing on the echoes of his last words. ¡°Like the green of a shallow pond reflecting a summer¡¯s sky.¡± ¡°That¡¯s very specific.¡± ¡°It tells me that you like people,¡± I say, ignoring the growing warmth in my cheeks. ¡°That you like helping them. You value your work and see it done well.¡± Somre laughs. ¡°You will have to see for yourself how true that is. I wonder if it would help me to see as you do. I find it easier to relate people¡¯s qualities to my knowledge of herbs. For example, larkspur is used to treat insomnia, and Six suffered from that ailment when we first found him. It also signifies boldness, which he has displayed in the time since his recovery.¡± ¡°When you found him? He didn¡¯t enlist?¡± Somre pushes away from the table and beckons me closer. ¡°Yes, when he joined. Let¡¯s get to it, boy, we haven¡¯t got all day.¡± I move closer, waiting to be directed. ¡°What do you call the others?¡± ¡°I call Bayal Vervain, since vervain is used for protection against weapons. And Vikko is Yarrow, which is used to treat wounds. A warrior¡¯s herb. Tall and unyielding, like he is.¡± I nod, fascinated, but Somre waves toward the table again. ¡°How much experience do you have with healing?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been an apprentice since I was six.¡± He nods to a row of identical herbs spread out before him. ¡°Do you know what these are?¡± ¡°Winterfoil,¡± I say, pointing to the round leaves. ¡°It grew in my village.¡± ¡°Yes, it seems to be quite abundant near the mountains.¡± Somre plucks a leaf and holds it out to me. ¡°Though where I grew up, it was called anelyn. It can be substituted for yarrow to stanch bleeding, which is lucky since yarrow won¡¯t be in bloom for another couple of months. How is it used?¡± ¡°Bruise the leaf and apply it to a wound. Yarrow and winterfoil both work best fresh, rather than dried.¡± Somre nods, setting the leaf on his tongue. ¡°It can also be chewed to relieve toothache,¡± he tells me, turning back to his inventory. ¡°Yarrow is more effective, but anelyn is better than nothing.¡± He takes me through the bundles of herbs hanging throughout the tent and quizzes me on the uses of each. I tell him everything I know: tamarack bark for jaundice, dried silverweed for ague, mountain sorrel to treat scurvy. He also has me recite the medicinal uses for several poisons and prescribe different treatments for imaginary ailments. ¡°Well,¡± Somre says finally. ¡°Your teacher knew something, at least. I will tell Bayal that you may remain with me until we leave for the fort. There is always work to be done in the infirmary. You can start with mixing salves. If there¡¯s to be a battle, I want plenty of supplies ready beforehand.¡± Eager to prove my knowledge and my worth, I get to work. Chapter Fourteen By the time evening falls, my head reels with the information Somre has stuffed into it. He¡¯s a demanding teacher¡ªworse than Edlan¡ªaccepting no less than the best I can offer and giving little praise in return. But for the first time since leaving Vallegat, I know what I¡¯m doing. My hands remember how to handle the herbs, and I soak up the new knowledge he provides like parched earth in a rainstorm. I am almost sorry when Six shows up to bring me to supper. ¡°We¡¯ll eat in the meal tent,¡± he explains, leading me from the infirmary. ¡°What about Somre?¡± Six gives me a crooked grin. ¡°He¡¯ll eat with the officers. And he¡¯ll probably spend most of the meal sharing what he¡¯s learned about you.¡± ¡°Nothing interesting,¡± I say. ¡°Leave that to Bayal and the other officers to decide.¡± He leads me through the unit, where many of the tents I noticed earlier have already been taken down. ¡°Are there only tents?¡± I ask. ¡°You don¡¯t have any permanent buildings?¡± ¡°The unit¡¯s mobile,¡± Six explains. ¡°Bayal has us relocate every so often to keep us in practice in case something like this ever comes up. Once we receive word from Elni, we¡¯ll be able to travel immediately.¡± Six leads me to a long, low tent held up by wooden posts as thick as trees. A pleasant buzz of conversation drifts out of it, along with the clattering of bowls on tables and the scraping of benches being drawn out. Six waves to a few of the men as we enter, calling out greetings as we pass. I keep my head down, falling into line behind Six as he moves up to the counter where half a dozen men are serving food. Trays in hand, we move through the aisles to join the other rangers at a table they¡¯ve claimed near the back corner. Redge is in the middle of a story, sitting with his back to us and gesturing wildly as he speaks. His voice is a vibrant, cheerful red, bright as a new rose. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anyone move so fast,¡± he laughs. ¡°Least of all Iorin.¡± ¡°You¡¯d move just as quickly if you¡¯d found a snake in your bag,¡± Iorin says. ¡°It turned out just to be a belt,¡± Redge snickers. ¡°No one could top Jayr¡¯s sense of humor.¡± ¡°Who¡¯s Jayr?¡± I whisper, but Orami spots us and waves before Six can answer. ¡°We thought you¡¯d gotten lost with all the tents going down.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been here longer than you have,¡± Six says. Orami and Iorin laugh, but Redge goes stiff. Six sits across from Iorin and digs immediately into his meal, leaving me to take the seat across the table from Redge. ¡°I was talking to Brennr,¡± Orami says. ¡°He doesn¡¯t know the way.¡± ¡°He can¡¯t go unescorted,¡± Redge says, his voice darkening to the crimson of autumn leaves. His eyes drift to me, dark and unwavering as he gathers up his bowl. ¡°He can¡¯t be trusted.¡± He pushes himself up from the table, drops his bowl into a bucket on the counter, and stalks out of the tent. Iorin casts an embarrassed look toward me and gets up to follow. I watch them go, my stomach sinking. ¡°What did I do?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t say,¡± Thare says, slurping down the rest of his stew and getting to his feet. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t worry.¡± He turns to deposit his own bowl in the bucket and disappears after the others. ¡°Is he upset with me too?¡± I ask. My voice comes out strained, and I hate how transparent it must make me. But Six shakes his head without looking up from his bowl. ¡°Thare doesn¡¯t care what people think about him,¡± he says, poking at a piece of meat. ¡°To him, it really is as simple as putting the matter from your mind.¡± My gaze falls back to the table, and Six taps my bowl with his spoon. ¡°I¡¯m sure Iorin is talking to him. He¡¯s the only one Redge really listens to.¡± ¡°Why is that?¡± Six shrugs. ¡°Iorin¡¯s his older brother. Redge respects him enough to listen, once he calms down.¡± That explains the resemblance. I wish it extended to Redge¡¯s personality as well. ¡°Redge is a friendly man,¡± Six goes on. ¡°In time, he¡¯ll remember that.¡± ¡°How long have you known them?¡± ¡°About a year,¡± he says, taking another bite. ¡°Thare, Redge, and Iorin were already rangers, but they worked separately. Bayal sent them out when he needed scouting done, but there was no need for a formal group. When I joined up with the unit, I fell in as a ranger because I hadn¡¯t had the same training as the others, and the group formed around me. Orami joined us about six months later, and it¡¯s been the same ever since.¡± ¡°For a year?¡± ¡°For a year.¡± When I am silent, he adds, ¡°Iorin and Redge might be kin by blood, but as far as I¡¯m concerned, we¡¯re all brothers.¡± ¡°We take care of each other,¡± Orami agrees. ¡°It¡¯s how things are done here.¡± I study my stew. The camaraderie that binds the rangers is like that of the boys in my quarter, and I was exempt from both groups. If I would have known how lonely I¡¯d feel away from them, I never would have resisted Kjerrin¡¯s and Bronhold¡¯s attempts to befriend me in the fort. Ieldran, who could have foretold I¡¯d feel lonely for Bronhold¡¯s company? ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Six says as my silence lengthens. ¡°You¡¯ll return to your own family soon. Bayal said it would only take a few days for our message to reach Aquillis in Elni, and then a few more to receive a response. In a week, you could be back home.¡± ¡°Are you sure the king will give permission to act?¡± I ask. ¡°Bayal thinks so.¡± ¡°He told you that?¡± ¡°Yes. He summoned me a few hours ago to ask about you, and we talked of the messenger as well.¡± I frown, and Six lifts dark eyebrows at my expression. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Nothing, it¡¯s just¡­¡± I hesitate, but he waves his spoon in an invitation to continue. ¡°Just¡­ it seems like the captain puts a lot of trust in your thoughts.¡± ¡°That¡¯s because I¡¯m trustworthy.¡± I want to be annoyed at his flippant response, but Orami¡¯s answering laugh is such a bright, summery green that I can¡¯t summon the emotion. ¡°I thought it was strange, too, at first,¡± Orami says, still smiling. ¡°Sometimes it seems like Six speaks to the captain more than the officers do. But he does most of the reporting for us, so it¡¯s only natural that Captain Bayal relies on Six¡¯s observations.¡± ¡°Life here is immediate,¡± Six says, watching my reaction. ¡°This is the only Ielic unit for leagues around. We have to be able to rely on each other, no matter what happens. Without trust in Bayal, or his trust in us, none of this works.¡± His story about Belendres Pathmaker pulls at my mind. She trusted the men in her life, and look at what happened to her. I can¡¯t afford to make the same mistake. ¡°Have you always been a healer?¡± Orami asks. His question jolts me out of my thoughts, and I blink at him as I process his question. He lifts his hand, which is wrapped in a fresh bandage. ¡°One of Somre¡¯s assistants looked at it. He said you were clever to use the moss to stop the infection. You must have extensive training. It¡¯s what you¡¯ve always wanted to do?¡± I nod, and he goes on without pausing. ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to be a soldier. My brothers are¡ªall four of them¡ªand I knew I¡¯d follow in their footsteps. Was it the same for you?¡± His eyes are so bright, and his expression so open and waiting, that I can¡¯t keep my silence. ¡°I became an apprentice when I was a child.¡± ¡°Was it because of your burn?¡± Orami asks. I close my hand, cutting off his view of my scar, but he talks on as if I haven¡¯t moved. ¡°A few years ago, there was a fire in my village. I¡¯ve seen a lot of scars like yours.¡± He breaks off, green eyes flaring wide. ¡°Oh¡ªI didn¡¯t mean to pry. I just wondered if¡ªwell, people have reasons for doing what they do, don¡¯t they? I thought maybe it was your reason.¡± ¡°Some people don¡¯t like to share their entire life story with strangers,¡± Six says mildly, without taking his eyes from his meal. Orami frowns. ¡°But we¡¯re not strangers. Not anymore.¡± That, more than anything else, compels me to answer. ¡°My teacher explained what he was doing while he treated me,¡± I say. ¡°I found it interesting and wanted to learn more. After I healed, he agreed to keep me on as an apprentice.¡± ¡°That¡¯s amazing,¡± Orami says. ¡°To study something that long¡­ I think I¡¯d lose interest.¡± ¡°You haven¡¯t lost interest in fighting,¡± Six says. Orami takes a bite of stew and chews thoughtfully. ¡°I suppose not, but that¡¯s different. My brothers were always there to teach me. It wasn¡¯t just something to learn¡ªit was something we did together.¡± ¡°Are they here, too?¡± I ask. ¡°No,¡± Orami says, and a blue wisp of wistfulness pulls at his voice. ¡°They¡¯re all in different units. I hoped to be stationed with one of them, but¡­¡± He leans close, putting his forehead almost to mine. ¡°I lied about my age to enlist earlier, and I may have exaggerated my abilities during recruitment. They sent me to the Border Infantry to be a runner, instead of any of the units I requested.¡± ¡°You may have exaggerated your fighting skills,¡± Six says. ¡°But not your speed. You¡¯re easily the fastest in the unit.¡± Orami leans back, beaming. ¡°Maybe, but I probably should have waited. They might have let me pick my unit if I was older.¡± ¡°Then we wouldn¡¯t have you,¡± Six says, reaching out to ruffle the boy¡¯s hair. ¡°Now finish your supper. The next shift will be in soon, and they¡¯ll need the table.¡± When our bowls are empty, Six pushes away from the table and stretches. ¡°Put your bowl there,¡± he tells me. ¡°Then we¡¯ll head back to our tent. There¡¯s room for you with the rangers tonight.¡± ¡°I¡¯m to stay with you?¡± I ask. ¡°Where else would you stay?¡± I narrow my eyes at Six as Orami leads the way outside. ¡°Is it so you can keep an eye on me?¡± He gives me a crooked smile. ¡°Yes. And because you need a place to sleep, and we have room. I volunteered.¡± ¡°That won¡¯t make Redge happy,¡± I murmur. ¡°Redge doesn¡¯t speak for everyone.¡± ¡°Do you?¡± ¡°Sometimes,¡± he says. Faint light from the setting sun washes over the bruise on his cheek, drawing out the yellows in the healing tissue. ¡°Either way, this is an order from Captain Bayal. Even Redge won¡¯t question that.¡± I don¡¯t know if I believe him, but I have little choice except to follow Orami and Six to the small camp the rangers have set up at the edge of the unit. It¡¯s just a low tent and a fire, but the casual greens of friendly conversation that rise from the silhouetted rangers make a ball of homesickness tighten in my chest. ¡°Our fearless leader returns,¡± Iorin calls as we approach. He offers me a smile before moving over to make room on the log he¡¯s using as a bench. Beside him, Redge scowls and puts his hands on his knees as if he¡¯s about to get up. ¡°Don¡¯t bother,¡± I tell him, wishing I had found a way to get into the tent without him seeing me. ¡°I¡¯ll go to bed early.¡± I turn without waiting to see his reaction and duck into the tent, fastening it wordlessly behind me. Iorin¡¯s quiet voice drifts to me from the fire. ¡°Is he joining us now?¡± ¡°Bayal wants someone to look after him,¡± Six says. ¡°Guard him, you mean,¡± Redge grumbles. Six¡¯s voice takes on a steel-blue edge. ¡°He needs a place to sleep, doesn¡¯t he?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t mind,¡± Orami puts in. ¡°Thare never sleeps inside, anyway, so there¡¯s plenty of room.¡± He¡¯s right. The interior is large enough to accommodate the five rangers and their packs, with a little extra room for me besides. More murmurs reach my ears from outside, but I tune them out as I ease the pack from my shoulders and find an empty spot on the ground, indulging in a small, self-pitying sigh. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. A shadow passes over the side of the tent before Six steps inside. ¡°I see you¡¯ve found a place,¡± he says. ¡°If the others come in, they¡¯ll sleep over there. They all have their spots already.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to come in,¡± I say, not bothering to keep the bitterness from my voice. ¡°You can see the door from the fire. It¡¯s not as though I can go anywhere.¡± ¡°You could cut a hole in the fabric and escape out the back,¡± he says. I drop the bedroll I¡¯d been unrolling. ¡°Why would I do that? I have no supplies, no map, no way of helping the villagers on my own. My brother¡ª¡± ¡°I was joking,¡± Six says, holding up his hand to stop me. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll try to leave. I told Bayal as much, but he has to make it look like you¡¯re under guard for the benefit of the others. They trust him to keep them safe, and they don¡¯t know you¡¯re harmless.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say harmless,¡± I grumble. Six kneels beside me and busies himself with unrolling his blankets. ¡°No, not harmless. But without the intent to harm.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t know that for sure,¡± I say, fumbling with the sword belt on my waist. He doesn¡¯t answer. I set the sword down beside my bedroll, keeping my eyes on my work, and wishing I had better control over my foul mood. I¡¯m already little more than a prisoner. I shouldn¡¯t be putting more reasons to distrust me into his head. ¡°I know this has been difficult for you,¡± Six says at last. The solemn blue-gray in his voice makes me look up, and I find him watching me with an unreadable expression. ¡°You were torn away from your family, forced to flee from your own army, left with no one to trust but your enemy.¡± He smooths out his bedroll and quirks up one side of his mouth in a crooked smile. ¡°Maybe you can¡¯t trust me yet¡ªthat¡¯s understandable¡ªbut I know what it¡¯s like to be friendless in a strange place. And I want you to know that you¡¯re not.¡± I tuck my bedroll into the corner of the tent, trying to think of something to say. Not friendless. I haven¡¯t felt not friendless since leaving Mjera. Aze was busy with his training at the fort, and my secrets put a barrier between me and the other villagers. Even Chass was more of an ally than a friend. I don¡¯t know what to do with Six¡¯s offer, not when I¡¯m still hiding so much from him. When I don¡¯t answer, Six tugs the corner of my blankets to move them away from the entrance. ¡°It¡¯ll be best to stay on this side of me. Orami doesn¡¯t always watch where he¡¯s stepping.¡± I look at him, still searching for a way to express my tangle of thoughts, but he lies down with his back to me before I can summon the words. Maybe that¡¯s for the best. I won¡¯t be here long, anyway¡ªit wouldn¡¯t make sense to form any real attachments. Whispering a prayer for Aze¡¯s safety, I pull off my boots and burrow into my blankets. We¡¯re at the base of the mountain, and the night isn¡¯t as cold as it was at the fort. I curl onto my side with my back to Six¡¯s, listening to the soft noises outside. The voices of the rangers drone and blend, melting into the crackling of the fires and the calls of night birds. They¡¯re the same birds that winter in Vallegat, and they sing now as if beckoning me home. Maybe it would be better to return after all. Just being an apprentice wouldn¡¯t be so bad. I¡¯ve had enough of traveling and excitement. The villagers will all be home, and life will go back to the way it was before. Except that I¡¯m still a traitor. Maybe the others will be welcomed back, but me? At least I¡¯ll get to see Aze first. The thought calms me enough that I can drift to sleep with the soothing sound of Six¡¯s breathing in my ear. *** Cold metal presses against the back of my neck. Captain Oristel¡¯s words cut through me, fracturing into sharp echoes that stab again and again through my chest: His true loyalties lie with those who would challenge the Grand General. I try to lift my head to search for Aze, but the edge of the blade bites through my skin¡ªlodges between the bones in my spine. Waits. I suck in a breath to scream, but my lungs are frozen inside my ribs. I can¡¯t speak. I can¡¯t Wordweave, and the pressure leaves my neck as Oristel raises his sword, and I can¡¯t¡ª ¡°Brennr.¡± A sobbing gasp rips through me, shattering the ice around my lungs. Air pours in, cold as the sword on my neck, but it¡¯s not enough. Blood runs down the side of my throat¡ªI have to stop the bleeding. I claw at my scarf, but another pair of hands grabs mine, and a face materializes from the darkness before me. ¡°Breathe,¡± Six says, pulling my fists against his chest. ¡°It was a dream, Brennr. You¡¯re safe.¡± His heart pounds beneath my hands, a steady rhythm that breaks through the panic. The tension drains from me, but his grip keeps me upright. ¡°Good,¡± he says, flattening my limp fingers over his chest. ¡°Feel my breaths¡ªgood¡ªmatch me.¡± He takes an exaggerated breath through his nose, and I do my best to copy him as his ribs expand under my palms. His linen shirt sticks to the sweat on my bare hand. Sweat, then, not blood. It was a dream. I¡¯m on my knees with my blanket twisted around my legs, though I don¡¯t remember sitting up. Pale light shines through the tent walls, but it¡¯s still too dark to see anything more than Six¡¯s outline. He¡¯s crouching before me, his body only inches from mine, and¡ªIeldran, I¡¯m still pressed against his chest, still letting his grounding breaths sink through me. I pull my hands free, mortified. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I gasp, barely remembering to use the male form of the words before they¡¯re out of my mouth. He settles back on his bedroll. ¡°Don¡¯t be,¡± he says, completely relaxed, as though he¡¯s just woken up to a pleasant, normal morning and not the chaos I¡¯ve subjected him to. ¡°I don¡¯t¡­¡± I sink back on my heels, covering my mouth with my gloved hand. ¡°I¡¯ve never¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s nothing to be ashamed of,¡± Six says gently. ¡°After what you¡¯ve been through, nightmares are to be expected.¡± If my face gets any hotter, I think it might burst into actual flames. ¡°You were there too,¡± I croak. ¡°And you didn¡¯t¡­¡± ¡°Not this time,¡± he says, glancing away. ¡°But I¡¯ve gone through this before. When I started sharing a tent with the others, nobody could sleep near me. I¡¯d kick in my sleep or wake with a knife in my hand¡­ They had to hide the weapons at night for the first few months I was here.¡± I lower my hand until they¡¯re both resting in my lap. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Because they didn¡¯t want me to accidentally stab anyone who was trying to wake me up.¡± I make a face. ¡°Why did you have the nightmares?¡± He leans back on one hand and runs the other through his hair, which is still mussed from sleep. ¡°My family was attacked in an Awnian raid,¡± he says, dark violet streaking through his voice. ¡°I made it out with my little sister, but we didn¡¯t get far. They killed her while I was sleeping. I escaped and found my way here, but I haven¡¯t slept well since.¡± ¡°Ieldran¡­¡± I whisper, my chest still tight with remembered fear. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry.¡± He suffered from insomnia when we found him, Somre had said. No wonder he had. How many nights did he wake up in a panic, alone in a strange place, feeling phantom blood on his skin and unable to take a full breath? He clears his throat, a flush creeping through his voice. ¡°Every time I woke from a dream, I remember feeling untethered, like there was nothing holding me to the earth. Somre taught me to control my breathing, but sometimes I wished¡­ I thought it would have been easier if I could feel someone breathing with me.¡± My stomach twists, and I almost reach out to take his hands the way he¡¯d taken mine. But the embarrassment is still there, so I only move to adjust my scarf until it covers the ring again. ¡°Thank you,¡± I say quietly. ¡°It helped.¡± He smiles. A snort across the tent makes me jump, but it¡¯s only Orami¡ªhe rolls over in his sleep, still snoring, oblivious to the spectacle I¡¯ve made of myself. The others are gone already, or else they never came in. Six wrinkles his nose. ¡°I normally don¡¯t allow the rangers to sleep this late.¡± It¡¯s an obvious offer to change the subject, and I accept it gratefully. ¡°Do you have much to do today?¡± ¡°Training,¡± he shrugs. ¡°And preparing for the move. There¡¯s always plenty to do.¡± ¡°Am I to return to Somre?¡± Six crawls from his blankets and stretches. ¡°Yes. Come along, I¡¯ll take you.¡± We find the physician muttering over a table as he shuffles groups of leaves and roots into pouches. He glances up as we enter and squints across the distance. ¡°Larkspur?¡± ¡°With Brennr,¡± Six says. ¡°Don¡¯t leave yet,¡± he says, patting his hands clean of dirt. ¡°If there¡¯s going to be a battle, we¡¯ll need more herbs. The winter has been long and my dried supplies are running low. I want to have some fresh herbs before we move out.¡± ¡°Not much grows in the mountains at this time of year,¡± I say. ¡°Some survive the cold,¡± Somre says. ¡°Rosemary, for instance, and thyme. Even some mint will thrive buried beneath the snow. I haven¡¯t the time to spend traipsing around the woods searching for them. Take that.¡± He nods at a satchel and looks back at his table again. ¡°You know what to look for.¡± I shoulder the satchel and follow Six from the infirmary, relishing in the familiar weight of the bag against my hip. ¡°Is this another test?¡± I ask. ¡°It¡¯s hard to say with Somre,¡± Six says. ¡°It could be a test or a whim. We may never know. Where are these herbs you¡¯re supposed to find?¡± ¡°In the forest, most likely,¡± I answer. ¡°I¡¯m not familiar with the area, so I can¡¯t say for sure.¡± ¡°Of course not. That would be too easy.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you like the forest?¡± I ask, jogging to walk beside him. ¡°A ranger must spend most of his time there.¡± He looks at me without turning his head. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean he has to enjoy it.¡± ¡°Why did you become a ranger if you didn¡¯t want to be in the forest?¡± Another look, this one somewhat shrewd¡ªas if he¡¯s trying to discern the reason for my question. ¡°When I joined, I didn¡¯t have the training to be a soldier. However, I knew a little about swordsmanship and archery, so rather than training me on my own they set me up with the rangers. Does that satisfy your curiosity?¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t enlist with a group?¡± I ask. ¡°No.¡± He doesn¡¯t elaborate, and I remember what he said about joining after his family had been killed. Though I burn with questions, I swallow them back and look down at the sword on his belt. ¡°Are you any good with that?¡± A smile quirks up one corner of his mouth. ¡°Is that a challenge?¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t had any training,¡± I remind him. ¡°You¡¯ve been a ranger for a year. That would hardly be a fair contest.¡± ¡°I suppose not. Then are you looking for a tutor?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a healer.¡± ¡°A healer can¡¯t protect himself?¡± ¡°I suppose. But who has the time to find a reliable teacher?¡± The smile on his face broadens. ¡°I¡¯m sure we can find someone. For a price.¡± ¡°What price?¡± ¡°What have you got?¡± Though my tone had been light before, a little of the fun goes out of the bantering. ¡°Nothing,¡± I say, trying to keep my voice from getting too heavy. ¡°Everything I brought from home is back at the fort. They¡¯ve probably gotten rid of it by now.¡± Six nudges my arm with his elbow. ¡°Don¡¯t get so serious. You have skills to trade, don¡¯t you?¡± I bristle. ¡°Wordweaving isn¡¯t some kind of¡ª¡± ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant either,¡± Six interrupts, holding up his hands. ¡°I meant cooking or healing or... or something else you can do.¡± He gestures toward a man sitting on his own with a sock draped over one knee and a needle and thread in his hands. ¡°Sewing is always useful. We¡¯re only given three pairs of stockings a year, and if you can mend the holes you¡¯ll have a valuable skill to barter.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± He chuckles and ruffles my hair. ¡°You have a reason to distrust soldiers, but try not to assume the worst of all of us.¡± Reflexively, I duck away from his touch. At home, we show affection through words and actions¡ªtaking over someone else¡¯s chores, or bringing them a treat from town. Even with Mjera, it took a while before I was comfortable with her tendency to take my hands and hug in greeting or farewell. Since leaving Vallegat, I¡¯ve held back from physical contact with others as much as possible, and I¡¯m embarrassed to admit how frazzled his touch makes me feel. If my reaction offends him, he doesn¡¯t show it. We¡¯ve reached the edge of the unit now, and I take a deep breath of pine scented air as we approach a stand of trees. ¡°Few of the soldiers at the fort were kind to us,¡± I say. ¡°A few days from now and you¡¯ll be free of soldiers for good.¡± Chickadees chirp somewhere overhead, almost as if answering his comment. I search the branches for them, trying to recapture the light feeling I¡¯d had minutes ago. ¡°Maybe.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can go home.¡± Six ducks a low branch and bends to inspect a mushroom pushing through the last thin layer of snow. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t you?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know if they¡¯ll let me. Because I¡¯m a...¡± ¡°You aren¡¯t really a traitor,¡± he says. ¡°They can¡¯t hold that against you.¡± But they will. Some of them are bound to, especially now that I¡¯m leading the Ielics back to the fort. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I murmur. ¡°Well,¡± Six says. ¡°You can always stay with us. It might be nice to have a healer on scouting missions.¡± A flare of something like hope warms my face, and I look away. ¡°The others would never go for that.¡± ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t they? Once this is all done, you¡¯ll have more than proved yourself trustworthy. You¡¯re even half Ielic. That¡¯s more than¡ª¡± He stumbles, catching hold of a low branch and laughing at himself. ¡°More than enough. And if things continue the way they are, we¡¯ll have plenty of missions to go on.¡± ¡°You think there will be an invasion even if we take the tunnel?¡± I ask, eager to change the subject. I don¡¯t want to think about how much it will hurt when Redge insists I can¡¯t join the rangers. ¡°Yes,¡± Six murmurs. ¡°If Ambritten plans on invading, taking the tunnel won¡¯t stop him for long. He¡¯ll just gather a larger force and take it back.¡± ¡°But now your king will have warning about the tunnel. He¡¯ll have plenty of time to send soldiers to defend the border before Ambritten can act.¡± Six hesitates, still holding onto the branch. ¡°Aquillis is a king in name only. His older brother ¨®rsurin was killed in the Coastal Wars, and since ¨®rsurin had no sons, the crown passed to his brother. Aquillis has neither the talent for strategy nor the courage to make hard decisions. His usual response is to pretend a threat doesn¡¯t exist and hope it goes away.¡± ¡°Is there no council to help him?¡± ¡°There¡¯s a council,¡± Six says. ¡°But he doesn¡¯t listen to them. Men who speak against him tend to disappear. It¡¯s why Bayal was sent to command the Border Patrol. He was one of ¨®rsurin¡¯s generals, and after the king died Bayal disagreed with the way Aquillis handled the battles to follow. Ieli was close to overcoming Awnia¡¯s forces, but Aquillis wouldn¡¯t give the command to attack. It gave Awnia time to regroup and added another two years to the fighting. Bayal argued one too many times, so Aquillis sent him from the front lines to start an infantry patrol on the edge of the mountains. Vikko was a captain himself in ¨®rsurin¡¯s time, and for supporting Bayal he was demoted and banished along with him.¡± He moves off along the path again, and I follow with my eyes on the ground. ¡°Are all kings like that?¡± Six lets out a humorless chuckle. ¡°All nobles are like that. Rank and title mean everything, and if you have neither you don¡¯t matter. You¡¯re a pawn for them to use against one another and nothing more.¡± ¡°Then... do you think King Aquillis will refuse to act on the tunnel?¡± ¡°It¡¯s hard to say.¡± Six plucks a pinecone from the ground and tosses it into the forest. ¡°I think he¡¯ll take the threat seriously, but he¡¯s unpredictable. He may dismiss it just because it comes from Bayal, or he may take it more seriously because there¡¯s a direct route to Elni from this part of the mountains. It will also depend on his court. If they push him to act one way, he may do the opposite just to show he¡¯s in charge.¡± I scowl. A man like that has no business being king. ¡°Is there nothing that can be done?¡± ¡°Nothing short of treason,¡± Six says. ¡°Is that what you¡¯re suggesting?¡± ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be treason for me. I¡¯m not Ielic.¡± Six laughs. ¡°A takeover then. You think you would be a better king?¡± ¡°Perhaps I would be.¡± I pause before a cluster of shrubs, bending low to check beneath their leaves. A little patch of pale green leaves huddles together in the shadows, straining toward the sunlight. Thyme. I reach down and pinch one of the stems, breaking it off in a way that won¡¯t inhibit future growth. ¡°What would your kingdom look like?¡± Six asks. I peer up at him, considering his curious expression and wondering how serious an answer I should give. ¡°No one would be forced to serve in my army, to start with,¡± I say. ¡°People could choose to do what they wanted with their lives in spite of¡ª¡± I stop, pretending to inspect a piece of thyme. I¡¯d been about to say gender. ¡°In spite of circumstances of their birth,¡± I finish awkwardly. ¡°Very noble,¡± Six says. His voice is a little too soft to be teasing. ¡°Well,¡± I murmur, clearing my throat. ¡°What about you? What would a country under your rule look like?¡± Six looks down the path, running a hand through his hair. ¡°Who wants that kind of responsibility? You and Aquillis and Ambritten can have the whole continent if you want it. I just want to live a quiet life away from it all.¡± ¡°That¡¯s why you joined the army?¡± I ask skeptically. He snorts. ¡°I joined the army because it was the only choice available to me at the time. I won¡¯t be here forever.¡± He stuffs his hands in his pockets, a crooked grin pulling at the left side of his mouth. ¡°But who knows? Perhaps if you become king I¡¯ll enlist in your army. Just to be clear, are you taking over Ieli or Awnia?¡± ¡°Both,¡± I answer, placing the thyme in my satchel and climbing to my feet. ¡°And who says I would let you in my army? It will have high standards.¡± ¡°Bold words coming from someone who can¡¯t use a sword.¡± He says it with a smirk, and I lift my chin to look down my nose at him as I pass. ¡°That¡¯s what my army will be for.¡± Six pushes himself from the tree and trots after me. ¡°You should at least know how to defend yourself. Assassins lurk everywhere, after all.¡± ¡°Even here?¡± ¡°Everywhere.¡± The sound of metal against leather slides across my ears, and I turn to see Six with his sword drawn. ¡°Go on,¡± he says, gesturing toward the blade on my hip. ¡°Let¡¯s see what you know.¡± ¡°I know nothing,¡± I argue. ¡°Then it¡¯s time to learn. Go on, draw.¡± Eyeing him warily, I ease my sword from its sheath and wrap both hands around the hilt. Six holds his out to show me his grip, and I copy it. ¡°Good,¡± he says, taking a slow swing toward me. I twist to block it, and Six smiles. ¡°After you block, do this.¡± He steps to the side, sliding his blade along mine and pushing it back. He attacks again, and I follow his instructions. ¡°Good. A basic block turned into an attack.¡± I nod, and he strikes forward so quickly that I barely get my sword up in time. I fall back, trying to put distance between us, but he closes the gap in a step. His sword snakes through my defense, and I find myself staring down the point as he stops it an inch from my nose. ¡°The same move,¡± he says. ¡°But faster. A basic move can be just as deadly as a complicated one.¡± I push him away, heat rising to my face. Six smiles and reaches out to tousle my hair. ¡°Don¡¯t be embarrassed,¡± he says. ¡°We¡¯ve got a lot to learn in a short amount of time. Try again.¡± Chapter Fifteen If I could spend the rest of my time with the Border Patrol here in the forest, I would. Here, the grip of winter isn¡¯t quite as strong as in the mountains, and I find enough herbs to fill my satchel within a few hours. And the company is pleasant. After his sparring lesson, which he peppers with plenty of compliments and encouragement, Six becomes a willing student of herb lore. He asks questions about the different medicinal uses of each plant I pick, about how I know which is which, and about what I am learning from Somre and how it compares to the things Edlan taught me. It makes me wonder if he has an interest in healing, but when I ask him about it, he only laughs. ¡°Somre tried his hand at me when I first joined the Patrol,¡± he says. ¡°He pronounced me unteachable within a week.¡± I can¡¯t stop a chuckle. ¡°You¡¯ve managed to pick up a few things now,¡± I tell him. ¡°Enough to be a decent assistant to someone who knows what he¡¯s doing.¡± Six grins. ¡°I pick it up quickly enough, sure. But after a few days it disappears from my mind. There¡¯s no helping it.¡± ¡°You have to use it every day,¡± I say. ¡°Just like with fighting. If you don¡¯t practice, it will never stick.¡± Six¡¯s mouth curves into a crooked smile. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯re just a better teacher than Somre. But if you value my life, don¡¯t tell him I said that.¡± The sun is high as we return to the infirmary, bag and pockets filled with plants. I lift my face to the sky, basking in the bright, unfiltered light. ¡°It¡¯s warmer here,¡± I say quietly. ¡°Than your village?¡± I nod. ¡°It¡¯s still winter there. Here at least most of the snow is gone.¡± Six steps over a puddle and lifts the infirmary tent flap. ¡°Yes, and leaving mud in its place. If it¡¯s not the cold, it¡¯s the rain, or the heat, or the wind. There¡¯s always something.¡± I follow him inside and find Somre studying the back of a soldier¡¯s head. He glances up as we come in, his eyes barely rising from his patient before returning. ¡°White willow bark,¡± he says, holding out his hand. ¡°Over there.¡± I hurry to fetch it while Six tilts his head toward the soldier. ¡°What happened, Lixeln?¡± ¡°Tent collapsed,¡± the soldier groans, reaching back to put his hand over his head. Somre swats it away and accepts the strips of willow I give him. ¡°You managed not to split your thick skull at least,¡± he says. His voice is harsh, but when he parts the man¡¯s hair his movements are careful. ¡°No bleeding. Here, chew this. Swallow the juices and spit out the wood.¡± He hands the willow to the soldier, who stuffs it into his mouth. His nose wrinkles as he chews, and Six lets out a soft snort. ¡°You couldn¡¯t give him a little honey with it?¡± ¡°My honey supply is low,¡± Somre grunts. ¡°Unless you¡¯re volunteering to find some more?¡± ¡°I already spent the day hunting supplies for you,¡± Six says. ¡°No honey then. He¡¯ll just have to manage the bitterness on his own.¡± Lixeln continues to chew, his expression pinched, until Somre tells him to spit out the wood. Gingerly, he takes it from his mouth, gulping down the medicine and letting his tongue loll out when it¡¯s gone. ¡°I¡¯d rather have split my head, I think.¡± ¡°Toss that outside,¡± Somre says, dismissing the soldier and turning to me. ¡°Now, what have you found?¡± I open the satchel to reveal the herbs Six and I gathered, and Six points to a clump of leaves, his other hand resting confidently on his hip. ¡°Rosemary.¡± ¡°Wolfspaw,¡± Somre corrects with a glare. ¡°Stick to your sword, Larkspur. The world of plants is not for you.¡± Six sighs and shoves his hands into his pockets. ¡°I told you, Brennr.¡± I give him a half smile as Somre inspects the rest of the herbs, nodding and muttering under his breath. ¡°Well,¡± he says at last. ¡°It isn¡¯t much, but for the time of year I suppose we can¡¯t complain. You can sort it while I finish up here.¡± Six starts to turn away, but Somre tosses a pile of cloth at him and points to a table behind him. ¡°Make some bandages while you¡¯re standing there. We¡¯ve only a few days left before the messenger returns, and assuming His Majesty agrees to the attack, we have plenty of work to do.¡± Six shoots me a helpless look, but I just shrug and go back to my herbs. For the next several hours, I prepare poultices, salves, tinctures, and compounds, while Six helps Somre pack away his supplies. The physician returns frequently to check my progress¡ªand, I suspect, to make sure I¡¯m not poisoning the medicine¡ªbut always drifts away with a grunt of approval. For once, the added suspicion doesn¡¯t bother me. I¡¯ve been learning the art of healing for thirteen years, and a feeling of deep contentment settles over me as I work. This is what I know, what I¡¯m good at. What I love. Extra supervision isn¡¯t going to ruin that for me. We eat a bit of bread and dried meat as we work, but by the time the sun begins to set, my stomach rumbles its desire for a full meal. Somre tells us to report early the next morning, and Six seizes the opportunity to leave by grabbing my arm and guiding me from the tent, as though he¡¯s afraid Somre will change his mind. ¡°I¡¯ll have him back before sunrise,¡± Six promises over his shoulder. As soon as we get outside, he leans close to me and speaks in a loud whisper. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get some food.¡± ¡°Are we eating with the other rangers?¡± I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral. This has been my most pleasant day in weeks, and I don¡¯t want it ruined by Redge¡¯s snide comments. The long look Six gives me tells me he¡¯s seen through my question. ¡°We usually take our meals together.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t need to eat with you. If it would be easier not to, I mean.¡± Six runs a hand through his hair, letting out a slow breath. ¡°We all have our issues to work through. Avoiding them won¡¯t help anything.¡± And in a few days I¡¯ll be nothing more than a memory to the rangers, and Redge¡¯s opinion of me won¡¯t matter. Just a few more days, and I can be off in search of a new home. I¡¯ll have enough time to say goodbye to Aze and the others, and I¡¯ll get to see the look on Bronhold¡¯s face when he finds out that Brennr was actually his sweet Ynria, who was definitely not pining away for him back home like he¡¯s been saying. The thought brings a smile to my lips, and Six tilts his head. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I was thinking about someone from my village,¡± I hedge. ¡°A girl?¡± I snort. ¡°Someone who thinks we will be betrothed and won¡¯t take no for an answer. I was picturing what things will be like when I return.¡± ¡°Ah, an overzealous suitor. I know what that¡¯s like. Except...¡± He trails off, his jaw tightening as he looks away. ¡°Mine thinks I¡¯ve spent all this time mourning our separation,¡± I say, hoping to coax a smile from his suddenly serious expression. ¡°As if I¡¯ve had nothing else to worry about.¡± One corner of Six¡¯s mouth twitches up. ¡°She told you this?¡± ¡°Everybody who can hear has been told.¡± I roll my eyes, and Six¡¯s grin widens. ¡°But at least most people know not to listen to... Bronhilda.¡± ¡°Bronhilda?¡± Six wrinkles his nose. ¡°Sounds like you were lucky to escape. Mine was named Alarra, the daughter of one of my father¡¯s acquaintances. She was the bossiest girl I¡¯ve ever met.¡± He quiets, but the solemn look from before doesn¡¯t return. ¡°Well,¡± he murmurs, rolling one shoulder. ¡°Perhaps we can afford a meal elsewhere after all.¡± The dining tent is just ahead, but Six turns away and guides me between a pair of abandoned fire pits. He leads me to the outskirts of the unit, where wagons are set up at varying intervals along the road that leads into camp. ¡°They follow the Patrol when it moves,¡± he explains. ¡°When we¡¯re stationary, they leave every few days to restock their supplies, and then return to sell them to either Bayal¡¯s supplier or to the soldiers directly. The food here isn¡¯t much better than what¡¯s in the meal tent, and you have to pay for it yourself. But it¡¯s something different.¡± ¡°How much is it?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll cover yours.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not necessary. I can¡ª¡± ¡°Where I¡¯m from, we repay our debts,¡± Six interrupts. ¡°A meal is the least I can give you.¡± Guilt pulls at my stomach. ¡°I saved myself,¡± I say in a low voice. ¡°You just happened to be there, too. If I hadn¡¯t been sentenced alongside you, I would have watched your execution and done nothing.¡± Stolen novel; please report. Amusement flickers across his face. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what might have happened. You acted, and my life was spared. All other paths are irrelevant.¡± He reaches out to muss my short hair, and this time, I don¡¯t lean away. ¡°Don¡¯t look so serious.¡± But I can¡¯t help it. Two days ago he was nobody, a prisoner without a name or a story. Now, he¡¯s real. He has talents and humor and friends who would miss him if he were gone. And I would have let him die, simply because I didn¡¯t know him. He leads the way to a wagon and buys a pair of sticks skewered through some kind of roasted meat that he says is probably rabbit. At another wagon, he exchanges a coin for a wineskin and a honey cake wrapped in wax cloth. ¡°Here,¡± he says, handing over the cake and my stick of meat. ¡°I want to show you something.¡± Once again we wind our way through the outskirts of the unit, this time heading south for the forest. The last of the sunlight paints the clouds a brilliant scarlet and bathes the Border Infantry in gold, casting long shadows across the level ground. Before long we leave the tents and soldiers behind, and the noise of the army fades into the sounds of the forest. Evening birds flit through the branches, singing to each other as they search out their roosts for the night. Six steers us toward an enormous tree with thick, low-hanging branches. ¡°This is where I go when I want to be alone,¡± he says, gesturing toward the wide trunk. ¡°If you climb high enough, you have a decent view of the whole unit.¡± I nibble at a piece of meat, staring up into the branches. ¡°If you come here to be alone, why bring me?¡± ¡°Every secret is found out eventually.¡± Six shrugs and straps the wineskin to his belt. ¡°I like mine to be revealed on my own terms.¡± Alarm and guilt flood my body, tensing my muscles, clenching my stomach. But Six¡¯s attention is on the tree, leaving me to find my own way up. For a moment I thought¡ªbut how could he suspect me already? I went a month without anyone discovering my identity at the fort. Maybe something gave me away this morning when I had the dream, or maybe¡­ maybe he¡¯s talking about my Wordweaving? Or he¡¯s not talking about me at all, and I¡¯m panicking for no reason. Whatever he meant, he clearly doesn¡¯t intend to linger on it. His hands grip the branches as he pulls himself upward, and I push down my emotions and look up at the tree. Setting the stick of meat between my teeth and putting the honey cake into my satchel, I reach for a low branch and make my way up. Before long, I pass Six and continue on until I reach a bow-shaped branch about twenty feet up. ¡°You climb like a squirrel,¡± Six grumbles. ¡°Don¡¯t you come up here often?¡± I ask around the stick in my teeth. ¡°Why are you so slow?¡± He huffs out a breathy laugh. ¡°I don¡¯t like heights.¡± ¡°You¡¯re afraid of heights, so you climb a tree?¡± ¡°Not afraid.¡± He pulls himself up another branch, focusing on his hands. ¡°Just don¡¯t like them. That¡¯s no reason not to do something.¡± I lean against the trunk and remove the stick from my teeth, tearing off a bite of meat. He steadies himself on another branch. ¡°We used to have races as children,¡± I say. ¡°Whoever reached the top of the tree and climbed back down the quickest was the winner, and the winner got to make everyone else do something.¡± ¡°Like what?¡± ¡°Silly things. Once one of the boys made everyone do his chores for the day. Once we¡ªum, we raced some of the girls too.¡± I watch as he climbs around me to settle on the branch, but he doesn¡¯t seem to have noticed my mistake. ¡°Two of them used to always try to climb with us, but their skirts got in the way. So they went out every morning before their chores and practiced until they could beat us.¡± The look on Kjerrin¡¯s face when I passed him the first time is still one of my fondest memories. Aze refused to talk to Mjera for a week after she beat him. ¡°They made us do the same thing when they won.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Climb in skirts.¡± Six snickers, twirling his skewer between his fingers. ¡°How did that go?¡± ¡°Not well. Aze fell out of the tree when he stepped on his skirt, so they didn¡¯t make us do it again.¡± ¡°Aze is your brother?¡± I nod. In the neighboring tree, a squirrel chides us for invading its territory, and I turn to watch it scurry into its hollow. ¡°You two are close?¡± Another nod, and a pause while I chew on a piece of meat. ¡°We¡¯re only two years apart. Do you...¡± Six¡¯s shoulders go stiff, and I swallow my words with the rabbit. But after a moment he looks at me, his expression carefully relaxed. ¡°Did I have brothers?¡± he finishes. When I nod, he shrugs. ¡°I had three, and three sisters. We were never close.¡± His eyes stray toward the setting sun, and I hold my breath, afraid any movement might make him stop. ¡°They were... let¡¯s see... ten, eight, seven, five, and three years older than me. And then my little sister, and I was fourteen years her senior. We last two had a different mother than my other siblings. I think they resented us for that. We were not what you¡¯d call a happy family.¡± Six drinks from the wineskin and offers it to me, but I shake my head. He stops up the end and sets it on the trunk between us. ¡°There, nosy,¡± he says, elbowing me gently in the ribs. ¡°There¡¯s something I haven¡¯t told anyone. Happy?¡± I lean away and reach into my satchel to hide my face. ¡°No.¡± But a warm glow spreads across my chest, creeping up my neck in an unsettling flush. All for a few words spoken in confidence. What¡¯s wrong with me? I sneak a look at him as I search for the honey cake, frowning at his profile. His features are unremarkable¡ªnothing unseemly, but nothing to make him stand out either. Chass is far more handsome, and he never flustered me this way. It must be the setting. Never fall for a soldier, Mama told me once. Most of their appeal is the excitement of their situation. She usually said it with a wink to Papa, who would shrug and say she was right. So that¡¯s it. I allowed myself to get swept up in the excitement of the situation and the fact that Six has shown me kindness. How ridiculous. I pull out the honey cake and hand it over, taking a calming breath and thinking cooling thoughts toward my heated face. Six accepts the little loaf and tears it in half, handing one back to me. ¡°To moving on?¡± he says, and I smile and tap the corner of my cake against his. ¡°To moving on.¡± ¡°Sir!¡± I look down, startled, and find a boy of about ten staring up at us from the base of the tree. Six leans over to peer between our feet. Darkness has fallen, and I have to squint to make out his features. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°Sir,¡± the boy says breathlessly. ¡°You¡¯ve been summoned to Captain Bayal¡¯s tent, you and your men. The messenger from Elni arrived.¡± ¡°What?¡± Six glances at me before scrambling to his feet, leaning over me to put his hand against the tree trunk. ¡°That¡¯s impossible. It takes two days to get to Elni on a horse, and even with the fastest¡ª¡± ¡°Sir, excuse me, but the messenger was met by another rider who was on his way to deliver orders to Captain Bayal,¡± interrupts the boy. ¡°I don¡¯t know any more. But the Captain surely will.¡± While he talks, I wrap the honey cake back into its cloth and tuck it into my satchel before sliding onto a lower branch. Going down is never as fast as going up, but I still beat Six to the ground. He jumps the last few feet, landing on slightly bent knees and springing into a walk. ¡°The other rangers have already been told to report,¡± the boy says. ¡°We couldn¡¯t find you, but one of them said you come here sometimes.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± Six says, and the boy scampers back to camp. Six rolls his eyes at me. ¡°Probably Iorin,¡± he grumbles. ¡°So much for my secret.¡± ¡°How can the messenger be here already?¡± I ask. Six tosses away his empty stick and drops the wineskin into his pack, which he throws over his shoulder. ¡°Aquillis must have sent word for Bayal to move the camp as we were sending a report about the tunnel,¡± he answers. ¡°Why would he want to move the camp?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Six brushes his hands on his jacket and starts back to camp, frowning. ¡°Whenever we¡¯ve moved in the past, it¡¯s been on Bayal¡¯s orders. He has to report any change in position back to Elni, of course, but Aquillis has never sent specific directions before.¡± A guard waits outside Bayal¡¯s tent, and when he sees us, he steps out of the way and beckons to the entrance. Six ducks inside, and I squeeze past the guard with my head down. The rest of the rangers are crammed inside, with Vikko and Somre speaking in low tones near Bayal¡¯s table. They look at us as we enter, and then all eyes go to Captain Bayal. ¡°A messenger from Elni arrived not half an hour ago,¡± Bayal begins. ¡°He met with the runner I sent along the road and they traded messages. We have orders to move on the tunnel immediately.¡± ¡°How could Aquillis have known about the tunnel?¡± Six asks. Bayal accepts the interruption without reproach. ¡°Someone sent word shortly after the tunnel was completed,¡± he says. ¡°The message didn¡¯t say who.¡± One of his eyebrows lifts toward me, but I shake my head. ¡°It wasn¡¯t me.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t think so,¡± the captain sighs. ¡°Then it seems we have a friend in Awnia.¡± ¡°Sir,¡± Iorin says, and Bayal nods for him to speak. ¡°Someone sent the message from within the camp? Is it possible we have spies there?¡± The captain shakes his head. ¡°We withdrew all our spies years ago.¡± ¡°Then it is someone sympathetic to Ieli,¡± Iorin continues. ¡°A traitor.¡± Again, the captain looks at me. ¡°Do you know anyone who could have been responsible?¡± I hesitate, trying not to cower under the pressure of all their waiting stares. ¡°There¡ªthere was someone, but...¡± Six sets a hand on my shoulder. The weight of it sinks through me, anchoring me to the earth, and I let out a slow breath. ¡°Someone tried to help Six out of the guardhouse the night before we escaped. I don¡¯t know who it was. He pinned it on me, which is why...¡± ¡°Which is why you were labeled a traitor,¡± Vikko finishes. ¡°And since you did not send the message, it seems the man responsible is still within the fort.¡± Bayal nods, a pensive expression on his face. ¡°His Majesty has sent word that we are to march on the tunnel immediately. I¡¯ve already given the order to strike camp at dawn. Brennr, we will rely on your Wordweaving once we arrive at the tunnel. You are ordered to conserve your energy to that end, do you understand?¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ¡°Good. Then get some rest, men. Tomorrow we march to battle.¡± The rangers turn to go, but Six¡¯s hand on my shoulder keeps me from following. ¡°Captain,¡± he begins when only Somre, Vikko, and Bayal remain. He drops his hand, and its absence feels like missing armor. ¡°Aquillis doesn¡¯t know we have a Wordweaver. He¡¯s ordered us to attack? He must know we¡¯re outnumbered.¡± ¡°The king has promised to send aid,¡± Bayal says in a flat tone. ¡°Then why didn¡¯t he send anyone along with the messenger?¡± The captain frowns a warning. ¡°It is not our place to question His Majesty¡¯s strategy.¡± ¡°If the man who sent the message to Aquillis was found out, we could be walking into a trap,¡± Six continues. ¡°Let me take the rangers ahead to scout the tunnel. We need to know what we¡¯re up against.¡± Bayal looks to Vikko, who gives a minute nod. ¡°You will not engage the Awnians unless absolutely necessary,¡± the captain says, and Six salutes. ¡°Yes, sir. And¡ª¡± he adds when Bayal starts to dismiss him. ¡°I¡¯d like to bring Brennr with us, sir.¡± A mixture of fear and excitement¡ªno, not pride, just excitement¡ªswirls in my stomach. ¡°We don¡¯t know what we will find,¡± Six goes on. ¡°It would be helpful to have a Wordweaver and a healer along.¡± Bayal studies me, his brown eyes picking out every insecurity and doubt. ¡°You will take responsibility for him?¡± he asks Six. ¡°Yes, sir. And he will take responsibility for us. Like any ranger.¡± Bayal¡¯s eyebrows go up. ¡°Is that so? Will you take responsibility for them, Brennr? Will you risk your life for theirs?¡± I know the answer expected of me, but I don¡¯t give it. Not right away, not before thinking. Would I fight for the rangers? Die for them? Use my Wordweaving to protect them¡ªall of them? Even Redge? But the answer spreads through me with like a fist unclenching. If the rangers are willing to fight to free my neighbors, then of course I must help them. And afterwards, if we¡¯re successful¡­ Six¡¯s offer is there, unfurling in my thoughts, bringing with it a smoldering ember of hope. You can always stay with us. ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°I will be responsible for them.¡± ¡°Then you will leave before sunrise,¡± Bayal says. ¡°And may the Pathkeeper light your way.¡± Six salutes, and I hasten to do the same before following him from the tent. ¡°Report to me tomorrow before you leave,¡± Somre calls after me. ¡°I¡¯ll give you supplies.¡± I nod, and Six and I leave the three men to their plans. Chapter Sixteen ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Six says as soon as we step outside. ¡°I should have spoken with you before that.¡± Dusty blue echoes in his voice warn me that there¡¯s more to his apology than his words suggest. ¡°Before what?¡± ¡°Before asking the captain to send you with us. I should have asked you first.¡± ¡°I was going to be at the tunnel, anyway.¡± I wait, but he doesn¡¯t speak again for several moments. Something¡¯s troubling him, but he either doesn¡¯t want to share it, or doesn¡¯t know how. I study the yellow bruise on his cheek. ¡°Are you afraid?¡± ¡°Yes. For the others.¡± Dark eyes flick over me, dipping toward my scarf before settling on my face. ¡°Orami especially. He hasn¡¯t had much experience besides sparring.¡± ¡°If you¡¯ve only been here a year, you can¡¯t have much more experience,¡± I say. Six¡¯s breath puffs into the air between us and catches silver in the moonlight. ¡°I¡¯ve been in fights. Nothing like what we¡¯re headed toward, but I know how to handle myself in battle. And if not¡­¡± ¡°If not?¡± He shrugs. ¡°My family is gone. It wouldn¡¯t be such a bad thing if I joined them.¡± Something heavy and cold presses on my chest. The image of Six kneeling before Captain Oristel burns in my mind, his head raised defiantly, his jaw clenched. He was a stranger to me then, but when his eyes found mine in that moment before Oristel lifted his sword, his thoughts were as clear as if he¡¯d shouted them to me. I hold his gaze, flatten my lips, and shake my head. ¡°I don¡¯t believe you.¡± ¡°Are you calling me a liar?¡± he laughs. ¡°You were afraid,¡± I say, undeterred by his reaction. ¡°When you were about to be executed, you looked at me and¡ª¡± The memory is so vivid that it¡¯s almost hard to see his face now. The ghost of that fear is still there in the corner of his mouth, the crease between his brows. The shadow over his eyes. ¡°I know you didn¡¯t want to die.¡± ¡°Nobody wants to die,¡± he says, his voice still stubbornly light. ¡°Then why are you pretending you do?¡± The skin around his eyes tightens. A muscle in his cheek jumps as he clenches his jaw, and the sudden memory of his heartbeat pounding against my palms drums through me. He¡¯s scared now. Of what? My fingers twitch like they want to reach for his, but I clench them at my side and wait out the silence. He stares at me, mouth opening once, twice¡ªand then he turns away. ¡°Come on. We should get back to the others.¡± Disappointment sinks through me as I follow him back to the rangers. It shouldn¡¯t bother me that he won¡¯t share his thoughts. He¡¯s already told me more than I¡¯ve told him, besides sharing his secret tree. We¡¯ve only known each other for a few days. I can¡¯t expect any more from him. But I am disappointed, and I don¡¯t know how to stop it. When we reach the ranger¡¯s camp, the fire throws shadows over the silhouettes of the four men seated around it. They¡¯re talking quietly, but I can¡¯t hear their words. Orami looks over his shoulder as we approach, scooting over to make room beside him and Iorin. ¡°We¡¯ve all been wondering,¡± he tells me, his voice a curious swirl of azure. ¡°Captain Bayal wants you to save your strength for Wordweaving. What can you do at full strength? Can you do what the captain asks of you?¡± ¡°As the captain hasn¡¯t asked him for anything specific, that would be difficult to answer,¡± Six says. He takes a seat beside Orami, and after a moment¡¯s hesitation I slip down next to him. ¡°But it will have to be something powerful,¡± the boy continues. ¡°Have you ever done anything like that before?¡± ¡°Not unless he could make a profit,¡± Redge says. ¡°That¡¯s all Wordweavers care about.¡± ¡°Redge,¡± Iorin says sharply. ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡± Redge blows an angry breath through his nose and stands. ¡°Don¡¯t act like you¡¯re in any position to give me orders, brother. You don¡¯t outrank me.¡± ¡°But I do,¡± Six says. His voice is calm, but a hard crimson line cuts through his words as he lifts his gaze to Redge. ¡°Brennr is coming with us to scout the tunnel tomorrow, and you¡¯d better leave your bias toward him here in the camp.¡± With an exaggerated salute, Redge spins on his heel and stalks off into the darkness. ¡°Why¡¯d he say it like that, Iorin?¡± Orami asks. He stares after Redge with wide eyes, a troubled look on his face. ¡°When he called you brother?¡± Iorin sighs. ¡°We¡¯re half-brothers, but he only brings that up when he¡¯s being petulant.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t know that,¡± Orami says. ¡°My parents married when they were very young,¡± Iorin says. His body is facing Orami, but his gaze settles on me. ¡°When my mother died, she wasn¡¯t yet twenty years old, and I barely two. I hardly remember her.¡± Faint sky blue soaks through his honey-colored voice, and he turns a new block of wood he¡¯d been carving in his hands as he continues. ¡°My father¡¯s second wife has been more of a mother to me. They had Redge when I was seven, and then Jayr when I was thirteen. By then, I was already studying at the university in Elni, so I barely knew my youngest brother.¡± There¡¯s that name again, the one Redge had been telling the story about last night. Another brother. ¡°Last year, Jayr came down with a fever,¡± Iorin goes on. ¡°The healers could do nothing to save him, so Redge went to find the only other option.¡± ¡°A Wordweaver,¡± Six guesses. Iorin nods. ¡°By the time Redge found a Wordweaver powerful enough to do the healing, Jayr was weak. The Wordweaver charged a price so high that my father could not pay it, and while he was pleading to lower the price...¡± He trails off and looks at me. ¡°I was in Elni at the time. When word finally reached me that Jayr was ill, it was already too late. Redge... took Jayr¡¯s death hard. I stayed home as long as my studies would allow, but when I returned to the capital, Redge left to join the infantry. I followed as soon as I heard he¡¯d gone, and we haven¡¯t been home since.¡± I search for Redge¡¯s form in the shadows, resisting the pull of sympathy that makes me want to forgive him. What happened to his brother was tragic, but it isn¡¯t my fault. It gives him no right to take out his anger and sadness on me. I¡¯ve suffered my own injustices and have no time to worry about his. But my eyes stay on the path he took, and my fingers unclench in my lap. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Six tells Iorin. ¡°Redge will come around the more time he spends with Brennr. But it doesn¡¯t help to dwell on that when we have other things to prepare for.¡± ¡°Rule number seven,¡± Orami puts in. ¡°Seven is ¡®Use your resources¡¯,¡± Iorin argues. ¡°You want rule number two: ¡®Rest when you can¡¯.¡± ¡°I was going for ¡®Make a good plan¡¯,¡± Orami says. ¡°Wasn¡¯t that number seven?¡± ¡°Seven is ¡®Know your enemy¡¯,¡± Thare says. ¡°Yesterday you said ¡®Know your enemy¡¯ was five!¡± Orami says. ¡°You don¡¯t know the numbers either, you¡¯re just making them up.¡± Iorin looks offended. ¡°Behold the ungrateful child,¡± he says. ¡°We try to pass on some wisdom and he complains.¡± ¡°Well, if you¡¯d¡ª¡± ¡°Enough,¡± Six sighs. ¡°We have a busy few days coming up. Get some rest while you can.¡± He stands up, ignoring Iorin¡¯s whispered, ¡°Rule number two,¡± and Thare¡¯s ¡°Rule number four.¡± The others stay seated, but I hesitate when Six starts for the tent. He looks over his shoulder at me, but I stay where I am. ¡°I think I should talk to Redge,¡± I say in a low voice. Six glances into the darkness. ¡°Do you want me to come with you?¡± ¡°No, I¡­ I think I should do this alone.¡± He nods, and when he says nothing more, I turn and follow Redge into the shadows. He hasn¡¯t gone far. His back is to me, but the tensing of his shoulders says he¡¯s heard me coming. ¡°You¡¯ve insulted me,¡± I say, pitching my voice low so I won¡¯t be overheard. ¡°And assumed the worst of me, ever since you found out what I can do.¡± Redge turns to face me. ¡°You think just because you¡ª¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t let your brother die,¡± I say. My voice is hard and unflinching against the anger on Redge¡¯s face. ¡°And I¡¯ve never done anything to hurt you or anyone else. You don¡¯t have to like me, but you will have to find a way to work with me. At least until we¡¯re finished with the fort.¡± ¡°You haven¡¯t fooled me,¡± Redge says, leaning to put his face close to mine. I have to crane my neck up to look at him, but I do my best to meet his furious gaze without flinching. ¡°I haven¡¯t figured out what you want yet, but I know it¡¯s more than what you¡¯ve told the captain. Just know that whatever trap you¡¯re leading us into, I¡¯m ready for it. I¡¯ve already lost one brother to a Wordweaver. I won¡¯t lose any more.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not leading¡ª¡± He turns and stalks away before I can finish, leaving me alone at the edge of the camp. *** ¡°How did it go?¡± Six asks. I let the tent flap fall closed behind me and blink to adjust my eyes to the darkness. Six is sprawled on his bedroll, his hands folded behind his head as he watches me hesitate at the entrance. He¡¯s laid out my bedding as well, so I mumble a thank you before stepping over his legs to lie down. ¡°You¡¯re quiet,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯m always quiet.¡± ¡°Yes, but now it¡¯s because you¡¯re upset.¡± I shrug out of my jacket, studying the twist that has developed in the shoulder strap of my satchel. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t let Redge bother you,¡± he says. ¡°He¡¯s impulsive in his judgments, but he also forgives quickly. Once he gets to know you, he¡¯ll come around.¡± ¡°What does he have to forgive? I haven¡¯t done anything to him.¡± ¡°You know what I mean.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry for what happened to his brother,¡± I say. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine what it would be like to lose Aze. But I had nothing to do with it. Why should I bear the punishment for another man¡¯s actions?¡± ¡°You¡¯ve never heard of prejudice?¡± Six asks. ¡°Naming it doesn¡¯t excuse it.¡± ¡°I never claimed it did.¡± Six¡¯s gaze follows me as I lay out my blankets. ¡°It¡¯s wrong, but it¡¯s reality. There¡¯s nothing you can¡ª¡± ¡°If you say there¡¯s nothing I can do about it, I¡¯ll kick you,¡± I snap. ¡°That¡¯s all anyone has told me since the soldiers showed up in my village. There¡¯s nothing I can do about the war, or about families being ripped apart, or about bearing the punishment for something I didn¡¯t do¡ªagain. If that¡¯s all anyone says about the world¡¯s problems, it¡¯s no wonder they haven¡¯t been solved.¡± Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°Are you claiming you can solve the world¡¯s problems?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t mock me.¡± Six shifts to face me, his outline illumined by the firelight filtering in through the tent¡¯s fabric. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. But those problems can¡¯t be solved with a single action. It would take years to unravel every strand of hurt and hatred.¡± ¡°Then someone ought to get started,¡± I say, lying down and rolling to put my back to him. For a long time he¡¯s quiet, and I assume he¡¯s gone to sleep. But then he murmurs, ¡°You¡¯re right. First thing in the morning, we¡¯ll get started righting the world¡¯s wrongs.¡± Warmth blooms in my chest, and I reach up to set my finger on the ring at my throat as I fall asleep. We rise before the sun, vacating the little tent and taking it down in silence. Iorin and Orami spent the night with us, but Thare is still outside when we creep out into the chill air. He sits where he¡¯d been when I went to bed, staring into the glowing coals of the fire. Whether Redge came back last night or not I can¡¯t say, but he isn¡¯t here now. ¡°Iorin,¡± Six says, his gaze darting between the remaining rangers. ¡°Make sure we have all the supplies we need for a march. I¡¯ll need a new bow¡ªthe Awnians took mine. Orami, take care of the tent. Thare, find Redge and make sure he¡¯s ready. We leave in twenty minutes.¡± They obey without comment, and I have to admit I¡¯m impressed. If they went by age, Iorin should have been in command¡ªif by experience, I would guess Thare has seen more fights than the others, based on his scars. But they accept Six¡¯s leadership with no hints of resentment or questions. Except when it comes to me. ¡°Somre wanted to talk to you,¡± Six reminds me, breaking through my thoughts. ¡°I¡¯ll take you.¡± The rest of the unit is still and quiet, enjoying their last few hours of slumber¡ªexcluding the infirmary. Three men are busy packing Somre¡¯s things, and barely glance at us as we enter. Papers and herbs and bags are scattered everywhere, along with an assortment of bandages, cloths, twine, surgery blades, scissors, and all manner of containers imaginable. The table and cots that had originally furnished the tent have been removed, but Somre has gained a trunk and a cart overflowing with packed items. The physician stands in the center of the chaos, barking orders to his unfortunate helpers while he removes dried herbs from a cord tied between the supporting posts. ¡°Larkspur, make yourself useful,¡± he says, waving us over and dumping a bundle of yellow flowers into Six¡¯s arms. ¡°Take these to Gaii, he¡¯ll show you what to do with them.¡± Six hurries away, and Somre focuses on me. ¡°Did you bring your satchel?¡± I pat the bag on my hip. Somre plucks a bundle from his table and holds it to me, speaking as he turns back to his tasks. ¡°Inside this you will find anelyn, rue, and vervain for wounds. They¡¯re not as potent dried, of course, but they¡¯ll last you longer. There¡¯s also saffron to protect against infection. Make sure you pick any mint and marigold you find.¡± I nod, tucking the plants into my satchel. ¡°And these,¡± he adds, producing three tiny bottles that rattle with seeds. ¡°Comfrey, asais, and silver crown seeds. They are nearly useless dried, so I believed it best to give them to you in this state. You can grow them when you need them.¡± All those years of asking¡ªbegging¡ªEdlan to let me Wordweave, and he always refused. Somre has known me for two days and is not only allowing it, but demanding it. I accept the supplies and nestle the bottles between the bundles of herbs, carefully securing the cover of my satchel. ¡°You have bandages?¡± Somre continues, and I nod. ¡°Good. Never be without them. Anything else?¡± The first tremor of anxiety shivers up my spine. Somre is preparing for battle. He¡¯s preparing me for battle, stuffing my bag and my head full so I can have some hope of helping the rangers. ¡°I¡¯ll remember what you taught me,¡± I say, clenching my fingers around the strap of my satchel. ¡°Good. One more thing.¡± He rummages in a pocket and pulls out a small piece of neatly folded linen. Curious, I take it and let the fabric fall open across my palm. Resting within the cloth is a small pressed flower. Its white petals are arranged like a star around a cluster of yellow, with silvery-green leaves set behind it. ¡°Do you know what that is?¡± Somre asks. When I shake my head, he gives me a rare smile and continues, ¡°It¡¯s an edelweiss flower. It grows high in the mountains, at the very edges of cliffs where there is barely enough soil for it to survive.¡± I stare at the fragile petals, imagining it clinging to the side of a cliff on some mountain¡ªmaybe even my mountain. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± I whisper. ¡°But what is it for? I don¡¯t know any medicinal uses for edelweiss.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not for healing. Think of it as a gift¡ªa sign of friendship.¡± Somre glances at Six and the assistants, all occupied on the other side of the tent. ¡°I realize it may be unconventional to offer you a flower on the eve of battle...¡± I tear my eyes from the flower to meet his, my stomach plummeting. He used the feminine you. Ieldran help me. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡ª¡± I breathe, over-pronouncing the masculine I as if that will solve the problem. ¡°Because of my condition,¡± he says, his voice a low, conspiratorial blue. ¡°I have learned to pay attention to the things most people ignore. The way a person walks, the shifts in tone of voice. You reminded me of someone I knew once. It turns out the similarities go further than I thought.¡± Belendres. The woman who disguised herself to be a soldier¡ªthe woman Somre treated, whose death made him leave his position at the king¡¯s side. I shake my head, but it¡¯s pointless to argue. Perhaps sensing my panic, Somre pats the flower gently and folds the cloth back over it. ¡°I haven¡¯t said anything,¡± he says. ¡°And I do not intend to. Ieldran only knows why you¡¯ve made this choice, but you must have had a reason. Whether it is to learn something from us or to teach it, the Pathkeeper has brought you here at this moment, and I will not be the one who sends you away. Maybe it¡¯s a chance for me to atone for my past failures.¡± When I hesitate, he closes my bare hand over the cloth and gives my fingers a light pat. ¡°Go on. You have my silence.¡± I should thank him. I should ask what he means about atonement¡ªwhether it¡¯s for Belendres or someone else, and how he thinks I might help him earn it. But my lips won¡¯t move, and then Six is at my side, ready to lead me back through the camp. Trembling, I tuck Somre¡¯s gift into the inner pocket of my jacket. ¡°Have courage, Edelweiss,¡± Somre says, stopping me as I turn to follow Six outside. ¡°Your friends are counting on you.¡± My friends. Does he mean the villagers at the fort, or the rangers? Before I can ask, Six puts his hand on my shoulder and steers me out of the tent. ¡°Edelweiss,¡± he says, once we¡¯re far enough from Somre to avoid his sharp hearing. ¡°You must have made an impression. Somre doesn¡¯t bother giving a nickname to everyone.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know why.¡± I try to sound casual, but my voice comes out in a breathless rush. He gives me an odd look, but after a moment he looks away and we return to the rangers¡¯ camp in silence. The others are waiting, laden with packs and weapons and standing impatiently beside the coals of last night¡¯s fire. Redge opens his mouth as we approach, but Six interrupts it with a brisk, ¡°Good, let¡¯s get going.¡± Without waiting for an answer, he accepts the unstrung bow Iorin holds out to him and leads the way into the forest. ¡°What about the tent?¡± I whisper to Iorin. ¡°We leave it,¡± he answers. ¡°Someone else will put it with the others. We don¡¯t take tents on missions, they slow us down.¡± He turns to follow the others, and I fall into line behind him with Orami bringing up the rear. Redge and Thare have already caught up to Six, and as our silent procession enters the shadow of the forest, I take one last look over my shoulder at the camp, at the top of the infirmary tent barely visible over the rest of the unit. Touching the pocket with my new dried flower, I face the mountain, ready to return to its comforting heights. Six¡¯s pace is brutal. Orami manages to stay behind me, though I can tell by the way he keeps stepping aside and ranging from the path that he wishes I would walk faster. I do my best, though I¡¯m nearly jogging to keep up with Iorin¡¯s long-legged stride. But I won¡¯t slow. I will not give Redge anything else to hold against me. The sun stretches over the horizon, brightening a cloudless sky beyond winter branches. With the light, I can make out more of the underbrush. I search for useful plants as we pass, but we seem to be taking the same route Six and I searched yesterday. I didn¡¯t realize we¡¯d ranged so far in our hunt for Somre¡¯s herbs, but hours after leaving the unit, I still find familiar trees along our path. Around midday, Six calls a halt beside a small clearing. ¡°Get some rest,¡± he says. ¡°And eat something¡ª¡± ¡°Rule number three,¡± Redge says. ¡°Rule number six,¡± Iorin says. ¡°Which rule is that?¡± Orami asks. ¡°¡ªbefore we move out,¡± Six finishes, talking over them all. ¡°Ten minutes.¡± The men scatter to find patches of bare dirt beside tree trunks to take their meals. I choose a spot slightly apart from them, clearing away enough space in the snow to sit without getting too wet. To my surprise, Thare moves to join me. ¡°The smoke pit you dug,¡± he says, standing over me with a piece of the rabbit from the pit. ¡°The meat has a different flavor.¡± I tip my head back to look at him. ¡°I added some maple sticks to the fire.¡± ¡°That changes the taste?¡± I study his hazel eyes, but there¡¯s no hint of mocking in them. ¡°Yes. Different woods give off different flavors. Maple is a little sweet, where oak has a more balanced flavor. Hickory and applewood are better for pork.¡± Thare nods thoughtfully. ¡°I¡¯ve only ever used pine. It made the most smoke.¡± ¡°Pine works,¡± I say. ¡°But the women in my village usually cooked with other woods.¡± He gives another contemplative nod and gestures toward my sword. ¡°Has anyone showed you how to use that?¡± ¡°Six taught me a little.¡± ¡°He¡¯s got good instincts,¡± Thare says. ¡°Stay close to him when we reach the tunnel. If anyone can get us into the fort, it¡¯ll be Six.¡± I glance across the clearing to where Six is speaking with Iorin. ¡°But Six won¡¯t be leading the assault. The captain told us to wait for him.¡± ¡°Captain Bayal is a strategist,¡± Thare says, a wry grin pulling at his mouth. ¡°He¡¯s always three steps ahead of everyone else. If the captain sent Six here, then he had a reason for it. And he knows as well as the rest of us that Six isn¡¯t good at waiting.¡± Alarm surges through me, but Thare just bites his dried rabbit and turns back to the others. ¡°Has it been ten minutes?¡± Orami asks, stretching his legs with a loud groan. ¡°Do I have time for a nap?¡± ¡°Afraid not,¡± Iorin answers. ¡°We¡¯ll have to get moving as soon as Six is done taking his time on his own meal.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t take your lack of manners out on me,¡± Six retorts. ¡°Just because the rest of you have never heard of chewing doesn¡¯t mean I have to swallow my food whole.¡± ¡°Who¡¯s lacking manners?¡± Orami frowns. ¡°I cleaned my hands in the snow and everything.¡± Six takes a slow, deliberate bite. ¡°It¡¯s time to go when I say it is.¡± ¡°You did say it,¡± Redge points out. ¡°Ten minutes. Those were your orders.¡± Six shrugs, finishing his food in a single huge bite as he stands. ¡°Happy now?¡± he asks, mouth full. ¡°You rushed my luncheon and have probably doomed me to hiccups.¡± The others ignore him, shouldering their packs and brushing snow off their boots. I do the same, readjusting the belts crisscrossed around my body when they dig too sharply into my skin. Sword belt: straightened. Satchel: settled out of the way against my right hip. Pack: strapped across my shoulders so they don¡¯t pinch at my neck. It doesn¡¯t take the others nearly as long to be ready, but Six takes his time repacking his own things and finishes only after I do. ¡°Now,¡± he announces. ¡°We¡¯re ready to go.¡± We fall into the same order we¡¯d been in during the morning walk. A full stomach and the warmth of the sun on my face fill me with an unexpected sense of contentment. If every step was not bringing us closer to a battle, and were we not driven at an inhuman pace, it might even be a pleasant walk. I want to ask the others if they¡¯re worried, but no one talks now. We¡¯re too close to the border to risk giving away our position to scouting Awnians. The others pick their way soundlessly over the snowy earth, and I am slowed even more by my attempts to be as quiet. There is only one set of tracks before me now¡ªSix¡¯s¡ªas the others march in the same footsteps he makes in the snow. His stride is easier to match than Iorin¡¯s, but I still have to keep my eyes on the ground to ensure my steps fall within the same impressions. At least my feet are smaller than the others¡¯, so they fit easily within the spaces. Being small does have a few advantages. After a while, I look up to find the forest has given way to a sloping, rocky hillside. The trees spread farther apart, scraggly brush creeping up beside boulders and stumps exposed to the elements. We are back on the mountain, its looming presence like the embrace of a heavy blanket on a stormy night. Up ahead, Six raises his arm and gestures to the others. Thare peels soundlessly from the group and moves away, ducking behind a mound of boulders and disappearing from sight. A few hundred yards later, Six repeats the action and sends Redge slipping into the trees to our right. Iorin covers the distance to Six in a few steps, and I hurry to keep up. The next time Six lifts his hand, I think Iorin missed the order until I glance over my shoulder and see that Orami is no longer there. The position of rear guard has fallen to me. I set my hand on my sword hilt and glance uneasily at the towering pines overhead. Six gives no more orders to branch out. The three of us pick our way over the uneven ground, moving from snowy terrain to rocky. As we range closer to the rocks, Iorin drifts out of Six¡¯s trail to step on the stones where he won¡¯t leave tracks, pausing every few moments to look and listen. Our pace slows considerably, so much so that Iorin even waves me ahead of him. I relinquish my position without argument. Before long, Thare returns as suddenly and as silently as he had gone. Six pauses our march so he and Thare can hold a low conversation I can¡¯t hear even though I¡¯m only a few steps away. ¡°Sit down,¡± Iorin whispers, moving up beside me. ¡°With your back to them, like this, so you can see in a different direction. I will face this way. Let me know if you see Redge or Orami.¡± I nod and settle myself onto a tall, slanted rock. I¡¯m more leaning than sitting, ready to spring back up at a word from one of the others and gazing westward after Orami. Iorin faces east, angling his body to put his back to mine. A rustle in the brush startles me so badly that Iorin turns to look, but it¡¯s only a squirrel. He offers me a smile, and my cheeks burn as I turn back to my watching. Almost before I have fully turned, Orami reappears through the trees, and this time I manage to control my reaction to nudge Iorin with my elbow. Iorin nods at him and earns a wave as Orami joins Six and Thare. A few minutes later, Iorin taps my shoulder and points off to his left. I follow his eyes until I find Redge stalking toward us, as silent as a mountain lion. He also joins the others, and together they whisper for a few seconds before Six waves us over. ¡°No Awnians,¡± he reports. ¡°Since it¡¯s all clear here, we¡¯ll rest for a time before making the final push to the tunnel entrance. Thare found some tracks, so we¡¯ll have to be careful from here on out. Iorin, string your bow.¡± Thare leans his shoulder against a stone as Iorin gets to work on his bow. ¡°They seemed to be gathering resources,¡± Thare says. ¡°I found some trees they¡¯d cut, a path they started to clear.¡± ¡°Making a road for invasion,¡± Redge says. His eyes stray to me, dark and accusing. My patience snaps. ¡°I didn¡¯t have anything to do with the invasion,¡± I say. ¡°And if it weren¡¯t for me, you wouldn¡¯t even know there was one.¡± Redge rolls his eyes. ¡°Something good may have come out of it, but a Wordweaver only ever acts in his own interest. Why didn¡¯t you take your villagers with you if you¡¯re so worried about them? Instead, you left them behind to save your own¡ª¡± I hit him. Pain vibrates over my knuckles as they connect with Redge¡¯s cheekbone, spinning his head to the side as his arm comes up too late to block the blow. He staggers, his eyes wide with surprise. Mine are too. I didn¡¯t mean to hit him¡ªwell, I did, but I didn¡¯t plan it ahead of time. A flash of shame pierces the anger and floods through me. I¡¯m a healer¡¯s apprentice. I should be healing injuries, not causing them. Edlan would be so disappointed. I open my mouth to apologize, but Redge lunges forward and snatches a fistful of my shirt. He yanks me up, lifting me from my feet and slamming me against the rock ledge so hard it drives my breath from my lungs. ¡°You think you¡¯re so much better than us,¡± he snarls. His knuckles dig into my collarbone as he lifts me against the rocks, the worn fabric of my Ieli tunic tearing under his grip. My feet scrabble uselessly for purchase, my fingers clenching at his. ¡°Redge, stop!¡± Six seizes one of Redge¡¯s arms to haul him back, but he elbows him away and presses his face close to mine. ¡°You watch yourself, Wordweaver, because I¡¯m not going to¡ª¡± I kick up hard to drive my knee between his legs. He crumples, dropping me to my feet as Iorin and Six manage to drag his arms back. Orami is there now too, and Thare has his hand on the back of Redge¡¯s collar. I lift my head, panting, just as Redge heaves free long enough to swing his fist. Pain explodes in my jaw as my head snaps back, and there¡¯s a sensation of falling without my feet leave the ground. Then nothing. Chapter Seventeen ¡°He hit me first!¡± ¡°Shut up.¡± ¡°What would you do? You can¡¯t expect me to¡ª¡± ¡°Shut up, Redge, or I swear I¡¯ll¡ª¡± ¡°Uh... Six?¡± Silence. The voices echo through my throbbing head, but I can¡¯t make sense of them. I should know who¡¯s talking. I should care about what they¡¯re saying, but I can¡¯t focus. My thoughts are fuzzy, scattered by the constant pounding in my skull. I groan. And feel hands at my throat. Panicked, I try to push them away, but manage only to turn over to my side and retch into the snow. My body shakes, threatening to spill me onto the ground¡ªno, I¡¯m already on the ground. I clutch at my neck, but the hands are gone. My fingers touch the cold metal of the ring at my throat, then my torn tunic, then skin. Ieldran. The tunic is only open a handsbreadth, but when I look up to see Orami kneeling over me with wide eyes and a red face, I know it¡¯s enough. I close my eyes and wait. ¡°What is this?¡± Redge demands. No one answers him. ¡°Brennr,¡± Orami whispers. I open my eyes and find Orami holding out my fallen scarf. I don¡¯t even remember losing it. ¡°Did you know, Six?¡± Iorin asks. His voice is calm, his expression unreadable. One hand is still locked over his brother¡¯s right arm and chest, the other grasping his free elbow. Thare has a fistful of Redge¡¯s collar, but his attention is on Redge rather than me, so I can¡¯t guess his thoughts. Six stands a few feet away, stiffly, like he froze mid-step. His eyes lock with mine, and I know he sees my panic. ¡°No,¡± he says, but it comes out as a whisper. He clears his throat, running a hand through his hair and relaxing his stance. ¡°No, I didn¡¯t know.¡± Redge tries to storm forward, but Iorin and Thare have a strong enough grip on him that he only manages to lean. ¡°You lied to us,¡± he snarls. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean...¡± I cut myself off, because of course I meant to. You don¡¯t accidentally lie about your identity. ¡°Do you know the penalty for impersonating a soldier?¡± Redge bites out, his voice a violent shade of crimson. ¡°They¡¯ll kill you for this, and they¡¯ll kill us all for helping you.¡± ¡°Enough,¡± Six says. ¡°Keep your voice down. Just because we didn¡¯t find any Awnians before does not mean they won¡¯t come out to investigate all your shouting.¡± Iorin¡¯s eyes find mine. ¡°Are you injured, Brennr? Can you stand?¡± My body is still shaking, but I force myself to my feet with Orami hovering nearby. I manage not to collapse, though every movement sends a stab of pain through my head. Shame and embarrassment wind through the ache. I couldn¡¯t even stand up to one hit. ¡°Now,¡± Six says, his voice low and even. ¡°Redge, Iorin is going to let you go. You will not move. Then Brennr is going to explain.¡± Redge grunts and throws his arm back, and Iorin lets him go. He and Thare watch until Redge drops onto a stone nearby, crossing his arms and fuming in silence. Thare stands over him, wearing the same hard expression he always wears. I suck in a shaking breath. ¡°Well?¡± Thare grunts. ¡°Talk.¡± My fingers twist together, and I focus on relaxing them before I speak. ¡°Everything happened as I said,¡± I begin quietly. It¡¯s harder than I thought it would be to switch to the feminine forms of the words, and I have to take another steadying breath before I can continue. ¡°The soldiers came to my village to take a man from every family, and I went in place of my friend¡¯s brother. That¡¯s all. Everything else is the truth.¡± ¡°Your name?¡± Redge says. Another stab of guilt makes me pause. ¡°Brennr was their father¡¯s name. He died last year.¡± Sour disappointment coats the back of my tongue. Yesterday, I was tempted to tell Six my name, but I never imagined it would happen like this. I feel none of the relief or peace I¡¯d hoped for. Just more shame. Swallowing down the guilt and bile, I force out, ¡°My name is Ynria.¡± No one speaks. I wait, fighting the urge to wrap my arms around myself. Orami rocks from one foot to the other beside me, his eyes not quite meeting mine. ¡°Now what?¡± he asks when no one else moves. ¡°Now we turn her in,¡± Redge says. ¡°Before we¡¯re accused of harboring her.¡± Orami tugs at his sleeve. ¡°We can¡¯t do that. She hasn¡¯t done anything wrong.¡± ¡°You know Belendres¡¯s story as well as I do,¡± Redge says. ¡°The penalty for impersonating a soldier is death. She¡¯s risked our lives along with hers. We have to tell Captain Bayal the truth.¡± ¡°Technically, she hasn¡¯t impersonated an Ielic soldier,¡± Iorin says. His voice is a wary, washed-out amber, like tea that hasn¡¯t steeped long enough. Like he doesn¡¯t know if he should be arguing for or against me. Redge glowers at him. ¡°Do you think anyone will care about a technicality? You think we wouldn¡¯t still be punished?¡± He stands, and Iorin takes a step to intercept him. Six and Orami answer at the same time, their words overlapping in sparks of bright green and orange, and Iorin holds out his hands for quiet. Redge raises his voice to talk over them, gesturing sharply at me. A whistle cuts through the argument, and everyone falls silent again. Thare takes his fingers from his lips and scowls over us all. ¡°Nobody else knows about her,¡± he says in a crisp blue voice. ¡°So no one is in danger. The only way for the captain to find out is for one of us to him. We say nothing. After the attack on the fort, she leaves. Nobody knows, and nobody dies.¡± He stalks between Six and Redge without looking at either of them. ¡°Now let¡¯s go before the rest of the unit catches up to find us still fighting about it.¡± Orami claps me on the shoulder. ¡°I agree with Thare. She¡¯s here, right or wrong, and Captain Bayal is counting on her Wordweaving during the attack.¡± Redge looks like he wants to argue, but when Iorin adds his hand to my shoulder, he simply spits at my feet and stomps after Thare. Iorin winces and frowns at me. ¡°I¡¯m afraid you haven¡¯t made things easier for yourself by lying, but Thare is right. There¡¯s no reason to turn you in when you¡¯ll be leaving after the attack.¡± With a final pat and a tight smile, he turns to follow the others. ¡°Everything will work out,¡± Orami tells me. ¡°We all follow the Pathkeeper¡¯s guidance.¡± He falls into step behind Iorin, and then it¡¯s just me and Six. I don¡¯t know what to say. His eyes move from the stones at our feet to the trees overhead, sweeping near me without meeting my gaze. I want to say that I didn¡¯t mean to deceive him, that I never meant it to go so far, but it wouldn¡¯t change anything. I could have told him after we escaped. Why didn¡¯t I? Six shakes his head, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. ¡°All those questions about Belendres, whether anyone else knew she was a woman... I should have seen it.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I whisper. His eyes drift away, following the others as they continue up the trail, but he says nothing else. I force down the emotions clogging my throat. ¡°As soon as the attack on the fort is over, I¡¯ll go.¡± One of Six¡¯s hands settles on his hip, his thumb hooking through his sword belt. ¡°That was always the plan,¡± he says slowly. His eyes finally find mine. ¡°Why does it feel worse now? Like a punishment?¡± ¡°It¡¯s less of a punishment than what Belendres got.¡± ¡°That¡¯s why you weren¡¯t sure if you could go home,¡± he goes on. ¡°Because everyone will know that you disguised yourself. Where will you go if you can¡¯t go home?¡± I shrug, trying not to feel the way my heart hammers an echo of his question. ¡°I can go anywhere. Most places would welcome a fully trained healer.¡± ¡°A male healer,¡± Six says. ¡°Perhaps I can convince them,¡± I say, though my words sound hollow even to me. He doesn¡¯t renew his offer to join the rangers. He doesn¡¯t suggest I stay in Ieli, or try to find a secluded village that would embrace any healer, male or female¡ªhe doesn¡¯t say anything. All he does is stand with his jaw clenched, staring down the path as if he isn¡¯t sure where else to look. After an agonizing pause, he clears his throat. ¡°We should go. We¡¯ll lose the others.¡± He turns to follow them, and I trail him with my eyes on the ground. This will work out. It doesn¡¯t change anything about my plans to leave after we take the fort, except giving Redge more reasons to hate me. That won¡¯t matter in a few days. Everything is fine. But the thoughts chase themselves around my throbbing head, and it doesn¡¯t feel fine. Eventually, Six moves ahead to overtake Thare. We angle west up steep embankments, using deer trails when Six finds them, but more often forging the way over bare rock. We¡¯re frequently forced to climb, and by the time Six calls for a halt that evening, my muscles tremble with exhaustion. ¡°There,¡± Six whispers, pointing down into a little valley. We peer over the side of a sloping cliff and find the tunnel gaping like a wound in the side of the mountain. ¡°What do you see?¡± Orami whispers, craning his neck to peer over Thare¡¯s shoulder. I hang back beside Orami, trying to catch my breath without making it too obvious that I¡¯ve lost it. ¡°Four guards,¡± Iorin reports. ¡°Armed,¡± Thare adds. ¡°Looks like crossbows. And they¡¯re wearing chain mail.¡± ¡°So we¡¯ll hear them before they hear us,¡± Redge says. From where I¡¯m standing, I can¡¯t see the tunnel, and I find my eyes settling instead on Six. His eyebrows are drawn together and his fingers drum against the rock face, beating out the rhythm of my still-pounding heart. I try to read his thoughts in the set of his jaw, the taut muscles in his back and the way he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Gray hairs at his temple catch the fading light, flashing silver among the black strands tucked behind his ear. I hadn¡¯t noticed those before. Six is too young to have graying hair¡ªhe can¡¯t be over twenty-three. In the evening shadows, as focused and serious as he is, he looks decades older. When I realize I¡¯m staring, I turn my eyes away and catch Orami watching me with a knowing grin. I shoot him a glare, and he holds up his hands and shrugs. I can only hope he doesn¡¯t notice how my face heats up. ¡°Bayal gave orders not to engage any guards we may have come across,¡± Six says. ¡°We¡¯ll watch them tonight, see what we can overhear, and return to the unit in the morning.¡± A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. The others nod, and he directs them to different parts of the canyon, all higher than the tunnel and never more than a few moments¡¯ run from anyone else. He sends them in pairs: Redge with Orami (after he refuses to go with his brother) and Iorin with Thare, leaving me to partner with Six. The others move silently to their assigned places, and Six leads me down a little closer to the tunnel. We find a thin ledge about twenty yards above it, nestled across from the others¡¯ hiding spots. ¡°Now we wait,¡± he whispers, motioning for me to sit. I hold out one hand and extend the fingers before drawing them back into a fist, scanning the ground for a comfortable place to rest. ¡°What was that?¡± ¡°A hand sign.¡± I sit and lean my back against the rock wall, pulling my jacket tighter around me. ¡°The fryrs in my village taught me.¡± ¡°What does it mean?¡± ¡°It¡¯s like... ¡®Yes, I understand¡¯. There¡¯s not an exact translation.¡± Six copies the motion, his eyes bright. ¡°What else can you do?¡± I shrug. ¡°What do you want to know?¡± ¡°Sword?¡± I set my fists together and draw them apart, as if pulling a sword from a sheath. Six repeats it, smiling. ¡°Archer?¡± That¡¯s not a word I know, so I show him ¡°bow-man¡± instead. ¡°Perfect,¡± Six whispers, mimicking the sign. ¡°I¡¯ve been saying we need another way to communicate on missions. Can you teach me?¡± I hesitate. Of course I can teach him, but how much can he learn in so short a time? It took Aze weeks to master a handful of phrases, and every day we didn¡¯t practice he seemed to forget half of what he knew. But the look in Six¡¯s eyes is so earnest, so excited... ¡°Very well,¡± I say. ¡°But you don¡¯t have much time to learn. What would be the most useful?¡± He pauses to consider. ¡°Attack.¡± I ball my fists, pressing them down and splaying out my fingers as I move. Again, he copies me, and I watch the motion with the critical eye I¡¯d learned from teaching Aze. Six¡¯s hands are bare, free of the gloves the other rangers wear, and I¡¯m distracted by the scars and bruises marring his skin. ¡°You should wear gloves,¡± I say. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Your hands are all cut up. You must be very clumsy.¡± He snorts, pulling back his hand and holding it up to the moonlight. Half-healed cuts crisscross his knuckles, surrounded by purple bruises and white scars. ¡°It¡¯s not that bad,¡± he says. ¡°Not that bad?¡± I echo, holding out my bare hand in comparison. Actually... mine doesn¡¯t look much better. There are plenty of new scrapes and callouses from my work in the tunnel and our hikes through the woods. Six smiles smugly and pinches the tip of my little finger. ¡°I guess I¡¯m not the only clumsy one,¡± he says. ¡°Well, I¡¯m new to all of this,¡± I grumble, pulling my hand away. To give myself something to focus on other than the heat at the end of my finger, I roll my pack off my shoulders and pull out my half of the honey cake Six bought yesterday. I unwrap it as best I can without losing the drizzled honey that is now stuck to the cloth, then rip it in half and offer one handful to Six. ¡°What¡¯s the sign for cake?¡± he asks. I lick the sticky mess off the fingers of my right hand, set them over my left palm, and twist them in a circle. ¡°And honey?¡± We go on like that, me making signs and him copying them, for what feels like hours. I make him repeat the first few back to me, testing his memory before I agree to show him more. He¡¯s a much better student with this than with herbs; by the time I tell him we should stop for the night, he can sign a few simple commands and promises to teach it all to the others. ¡°Get some rest,¡± he says at last, finishing his third repetition of the phrase ¡°Wait here, I¡¯ll go on ahead.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll take first watch.¡± ¡°First watch?¡± I ask. ¡°Then you¡¯ll let me take second?¡± His eyebrows furrow. ¡°You want me to stay up all night?¡± ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant.¡± I study what I can see of him, but most of his face is too dark to read. His hands rest on his knees, forgotten tools of communication that tell me nothing. ¡°I meant... you trust me to keep watch?¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Six runs a hand through his hair, leaning back and looking over my shoulder. ¡°Because of...¡± ¡°Because for the last few days, I¡¯ve been little more than a prisoner,¡± I say. ¡°And because I¡¯ve been lying to you since we met.¡± His hand stalls at the back of his neck. ¡°It¡¯s not as if you lied to me specifically. I can hardly blame you for protecting yourself.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not angry?¡± He pauses for a long moment. ¡°No. Trust is a choice I make willingly tonight. If you cut my throat in my sleep, I suppose that will be my punishment.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not funny.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡± He shrugs, dropping his hand to his knee. ¡°Fine. We can only make decisions based on the information available to us. I may not know much about your history, but I know you saved my life when you could have escaped on your own. Captain Bayal thinks the benefits of believing you outweigh the risks, and I trust his judgement. I¡¯ve watched you throw yourself into Somre¡¯s work, which revolves entirely around helping others, and you¡¯ve even earned yourself a name from him. You¡¯re concerned with justice, with correcting the wrongs you see around you. A little inflexible in your thinking, maybe, a trifle na?ve¡ªbut those aren¡¯t qualities I condemn in my friends.¡± Thank Ieldran for the concealing darkness and curse the telling blush heating my face. I take a moment to inhale, making my voice casual. ¡°Friends?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± he says, and I hear the smile in his voice. ¡°I trust my friends. Now go to sleep before I change my mind and give you first watch.¡± I lie down with my back to the stone wall, curling up in my bedroll with the cold air chafing at my face. I won¡¯t dwell on his words, no matter how much they want to buzz around my head. Tomorrow has enough worries to preoccupy me. It seems like only moments have passed before Six touches my shoulder, pulling me from a dream in which I had been running from a pack of golden-eyed wolves and a black raven. My eyes are heavy when I force them open, heavy enough that I want to seal them again and tell Six to keep watch himself. But I make myself crawl out of the blankets and roll them up, stifling a yawn and trying to blink the bleariness from my eyes. ¡°Has anything happened?¡± I ask. ¡°There¡¯s been no change of guard yet, but I¡¯m guessing it will happen soon. Try to listen to whatever they say in case they give away anything important.¡± I nod, wishing I had kept the blanket to wrap around my shoulders. Six lays out his own bedroll, sliding into it and turning his back to the wall like I had done. He burrows into the blankets so only the top of his forehead is exposed to the elements, and I get the sudden urge to stroke the shock of hair that shivers in the breeze. Ieldran. What¡¯s wrong with me? After fighting for so long against an unwanted marriage, I¡¯d convinced myself that romance would never be a part of my future. Aze was always the romantic one¡ªbut then, men can afford to be romantic. Women have to be practical. I¡¯ve only known Six for a few days, and feelings that develop so quickly cannot be trusted. I can¡¯t afford to be distracted by something only brought on by the thrill of the upcoming attack. I rub my fingers over the ridges in the ring to distract myself. When this is over, I will say goodbye to Six and the other rangers and go on with my life unfettered. We¡¯ll be nothing but memories to each other, and I will be grateful for every monotonous day that fills the rest of my life. The hours pass on, cold and dark and infinite. Eventually I wriggle back into a sitting position beside Six, wishing I could stand and stretch. He lies completely still, never turning or rolling or even sighing in his sleep, as if he¡¯s right on the edge and any movement might pitch him over the side. I count the rocks on the ledge to keep myself awake, then move on to categorizing the plants in my bag. When I can think of no more herbs, I look out and notice a pale haze of light against the eastern horizon. The longer I watch the sky, the brighter it grows, and I sigh in relief. ¡°I hear something,¡± says one of the guards below. I freeze to listen. ¡°Torch light,¡± says another. ¡°Looks like our replacements are finally here.¡± ¡°About time,¡± another grumbles. ¡°Anything to report?¡± asks a new voice, and I flinch. It¡¯s Tyrr. I reach out to put my hand against Six¡¯s arm, and he comes instantly awake. ¡°It¡¯s almost dawn,¡± I whisper. ¡°The new guards are here. One of them is a tenant.¡± ¡°A tenant? Why?¡± ¡°Nothing, sir,¡± says one of the soldiers below. ¡°All quiet.¡± ¡°Good. Go on then. The men will be arriving soon.¡± I shoot a startled look to Six, who hurries to roll up his blankets so he can lean over the ledge. Four men stand in the tunnel entrance, including Tyrr, who studies what looks like a map by the light of a mounted torch. ¡°Why would more men be coming?¡± I whisper. ¡°The tunnel is finished.¡± Six reaches for his bow without taking his eyes from Tyrr. ¡°The good tenant has already been helpful enough to give us some information. Maybe he can give us more.¡± I stare at him. ¡°Is that a good idea?¡± ¡°If there will be soldiers coming through the tunnel, we need to know why. We can¡¯t let Bayal walk into an invasion force.¡± ¡°But how can we get more information?¡± ¡°We do have them outnumbered.¡± ¡°Barely.¡± ¡°Barely still counts. And we have surprise on our side.¡± Uneasy nerves grip my stomach. ¡°Captain Bayal said not to engage the Awnians.¡± ¡°This won¡¯t be an engagement,¡± Six says, stringing his bow with quick, practiced movements. His gaze flicks up to me, and he winks. ¡°Trust me.¡± I try to force my pounding heart to calm, sucking in a breath through my nose and counting to five before I release it. ¡°What should I do?¡± Six turns to face the spot where Iorin and Thare hide. The sky grows lighter by the minute; I can almost see across the rim of the ledge to where they¡¯re hiding among the rocks. Six cups his hands around his mouth and lets out a harsh raven¡¯s caw. Two more calls answer his, their echoes bouncing off the rocks and dying in the wind. Six leans back before Tyrr and the other guards can look around for the nonexistent ravens and grins at me. ¡°The others are awake. Should we have some fun?¡± ¡°Fun?¡± I repeat, with the distinct feeling that whatever he has in mind will not be fun. Six makes three more sharp caws. Then he nocks an arrow, shoots to his feet, draws back the string, and lets it loose. I scramble up to watch the arrow slice into the dirt at Tyrr¡¯s feet. In the next instant, four more arrows cut down the other guards, and Tyrr is left by himself in the center of the tunnel entrance. Tyrr had raised his crossbow toward us, but as the other guards fall, he turns to flee into the tunnel. ¡°Stop,¡± Six calls in Awnian. ¡°I would hate to have to shoot you, too.¡± Tyrr glares up at him, his crossbow still half-raised. ¡°Retaliation may not be your best course of action,¡± Six adds. ¡°If you¡¯d care to look around, you will find we have you surrounded.¡± Tyrr casts an uneasy look over his shoulder, in time to see Redge, Orami, Thare, and Iorin rise to their feet, new arrows already drawn and aimed. He turns to glower at Six, who is now leaning against a rock. ¡°Your name is Tyrr, correct?¡± Six calls down in the same amiable tone. At that Tyrr starts. His eyes narrow, his arm twitching like he wants to raise his crossbow again. ¡°You¡¯re the scout who escaped.¡± Six bows. ¡°Redge, Iorin, keep cover on our friend while the rest of us climb down.¡± They acknowledge by readjusting their aim while Orami and Thare ease their arrows forward and begin their descent. ¡°After you,¡± Six mutters to me, and I scramble down the steep rocky rise to the base of the tunnel. Once I reach the ground, I turn toward Tyrr and watch as Orami and Thare relieve him of his weapons. ¡°So?¡± Six says once he¡¯s down, jogging up beside us and twirling his bow in one hand. ¡°This is the tunnel I told you about, gentlemen.¡± ¡°Gentlemen,¡± Thare snorts. ¡°Anyone ever told you you talk like a baron when you¡¯re trying to be impressive?¡± Six shoots him a glare, and Thare gives an unapologetic shrug. ¡°I was raised with manners,¡± Six says, returning his attention to Tyrr. ¡°We should be civil to our new friend. You know, ask questions to get to know him better.¡± ¡°It¡¯s only polite,¡± Orami agrees. Tyrr spits at Six¡¯s boots, but he seems to be expecting that and steps neatly aside. Thare draws his knife and presses it to Tyrr¡¯s throat. ¡°Try that again,¡± he growls. A nervous swallow bobs down Tyrr¡¯s neck, but the anger doesn¡¯t leave his eyes. ¡°You said more would be coming back through the tunnel,¡± Six says. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Do you know who I am?¡± Tyrr hisses. ¡°The world¡¯s softest whetstone?¡± Thare says, pressing his knife deeper into Tyrr¡¯s skin. ¡°Answer him.¡± ¡°Th-they¡¯re just widening the opening,¡± Tyrr says. ¡°So we can better defend ourselves. It¡¯s for defense only.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me,¡± Six says in a flat voice. ¡°Unlike your captain, Thare here prefers not to take prisoners. If you aren¡¯t helpful, we¡¯ll simply kill you and wait for the next bunch of guards. Surely one of them will be more cooperative.¡± He waits for his words to sink in before repeating, ¡°Why send more men through the tunnel?¡± Tyrr clamps his mouth shut, and Six shrugs. ¡°Thare?¡± He turns away, and Thare lifts the knife over Tyrr¡¯s chest. ¡°Wait,¡± I say. Thare stops, his gaze darting from me to Six. Careful to keep my face down, I take a step forward and bend to retrieve the map Tyrr dropped when he drew his crossbow. It¡¯s thin paper, painted with what smells like walnut ink¡ªand it isn¡¯t a map. It¡¯s a building plan. ¡°Another fort,¡± I say, holding the paper out to Six. ¡°They¡¯re building another fort on this side of the tunnel.¡± Tyrr jerks in Thare¡¯s grip. ¡°To defend the border, that¡¯s all!¡± ¡°So they are starting the invasion,¡± Six says, his eyes on me. He shifts his attention to Tyrr, his expression hard. ¡°What¡¯s the timeline?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Tyrr says in a thin voice. Six turns away. ¡°Then we have no further use for you.¡± Tyrr sputters, but Thare only pulls the black scarf from Tyrr¡¯s neck and rips it in half. He stuffs one part into Tyrr¡¯s mouth, using the other strip to tie the cloth in place. Orami hands him a length of rope from his pack, which Thare uses to bind Tyrr¡¯s hands behind his back. Thare gives him a gentle kick towards Six. ¡°Done, your grace,¡± he says. ¡°Any other orders?¡± I look over at Six and watch him worry his bottom lip between his teeth¡ªslightly crooked teeth¡ªmaking a tiny dimple appear and disappear on his chin. An arc of stubble runs along his jawline, which¡ª Stop it. Focus. ¡°We have to warn the captain,¡± Six says at last. ¡°He¡¯s walking into an ambush. Orami, go and¡ª¡± Heat bursts across the back of my neck and races down my spine. I stiffen, drawing in a breath that is painfully loud in the quiet morning. Six is there in an instant, one hand reaching for his sword and the other for me. ¡°What is it?¡± I struggle to compose myself, breathing through my nose the way he¡¯d told me to when we were running. The burn turns to an itch that pools over the back of my neck, writhing beneath my skull, the old familiar presence I had finally gotten used to not feeling. ¡°Brennr,¡± Six presses. His hand is on my shoulder, anchoring me as the fire settles into my skin, but I pull away. Brennr, he¡¯d said. Not Ynria. ¡°Listen,¡± Orami says. The others go still as the sound of booted feet echoes out from the tunnel. ¡°Go,¡± Six hisses. ¡°Thare, get Tyrr into the bushes. Be ready for my signal. Orami, find Captain Bayal and warn him. We¡¯ll do our best to hold them off.¡± The rangers scatter, swift and silent under the threat of the coming soldiers. I catch Tyrr¡¯s gaze as Thare drags him into the forest, and his eyes widen in recognition before he¡¯s pulled out of sight. ¡°Hurry,¡± Six says, grabbing my arm. ¡°Another Wordweaver,¡± I gasp, scrambling back up the side of the cliff. ¡°What?¡± ¡°There was another Wordweaver at the fort,¡± I say, throwing myself flat against the ledge. ¡°Yes,¡± Six says. ¡°I remember.¡± I gesture helplessly at the tunnel. ¡°He¡¯s here.¡± Chapter Eighteen ¡°Go,¡± Six says, backing away from the ledge. ¡°Quick, before he gets here.¡± ¡°It¡¯s too late,¡± I whisper, reaching out to catch his hand. I¡¯d meant to pull him back down, but as soon as my skin touches his, I let go. ¡°If I feel it, he will too.¡± The first soldier appears through the tunnel opening and freezes, lifting his torch in surprise. ¡°The bodies,¡± I whisper. Six shakes his head. ¡°There¡¯s nothing we can do about them now.¡± ¡°Byrn!¡± the soldier yells, drawing his sword. ¡°The guards are dead! Sound the alarm!¡± Shouts echo down the tunnel, and more soldiers, armed and armored, pour out into the canyon. ¡°Where is Tenant Tyrr?¡± asks the first soldier, kneeling beside one of the bodies. ¡°Search the perimeter,¡± shouts another. Half a dozen soldiers rush to follow the order while the rest form a protective arc around the entrance of the tunnel. Another man jogs out of its darkness, one hand on the back of his neck as he searches his surroundings. ¡°Wait,¡± he calls, moving his hand from his neck to his crossbow. ¡°There¡¯s a Wordweaver nearby.¡± I pull back from the ledge, my heartbeat slamming into the rock beneath me. ¡°Where?¡± someone asks. Six reaches for his bow. ¡°You know I can¡¯t tell you that,¡± Brayam snaps. His eyes stay on the trees, and the others wait in tense silence for him to find me. ¡°Bring out the others,¡± he says at last, stepping aside to make room for the men still inside the tunnel. I peek out as they trail out with fearful glances and hunched shoulders, as though they expect to be attacked at any moment. They¡¯re dressed in plain clothes, so they¡¯re not trainees... new workers? One of them turns his head, and my stomach squeezes as I watch his familiar square face search for the threat. Bronhold. Behind him is Kjerrin and Tennr the shepherd, Ambril the blacksmith¡¯s son, a man I recognize from Norwikk... But no Aze. Six catches me staring and signs, ¡°Danger?¡± ¡°Men from the village,¡± I whisper, watching them plod anxiously toward the arc of soldiers. ¡°But I don¡¯t understand. They¡¯re not wearing their padded shirts... and look, they¡¯re not armed. Why did Brayam send them out?¡± ¡°He suspects you¡¯re the Wordweaver,¡± Six mutters. ¡°He figures you won¡¯t hurt your neighbors. He wants a shield.¡± ¡°Spread them out,¡± Brayam says, confirming Six¡¯s guess. Soldiers push the villagers into a row before them, sharing nervous glances as they back away. ¡°Come forward!¡± Brayam¡¯s muted red voice grates against the quiet like rust on gleaming steel. ¡°I know you¡¯re out there. I can sense you, as you sense me. Give yourself up before someone gets hurt.¡± ¡°They haven¡¯t guessed we¡¯re above them,¡± Six says. ¡°We have to give Orami time to get back to Bayal. We need a distraction.¡± Brayam waits, but when no one comes forward, he lifts his crossbow. ¡°I¡¯ll wait until the count of three. If you don¡¯t show yourself by then, I¡¯ll start shooting.¡± ¡°He wouldn¡¯t,¡± I breathe. ¡°One.¡± Six curses. He pulls an arrow from his quiver, slapping it to the string and canting his bow sideways over the ledge. ¡°Two,¡± Brayam calls. I start forward, but Six whispers an order to sit back down. Brayam levels his crossbow on a Norwikk man. ¡°Three.¡± ¡°Stop,¡± I shout, standing. Six shoots to his feet beside me, drawing his arrow to his cheek in the same instant. He looses it as Brayam turns, attention drawn by my voice, and has another drawn in seconds. The arrow thuds into Brayam¡¯s shoulder, spinning him and knocking him to the ground. The soldiers nearest Brayam shout and point their crossbows at us, but Six is already aiming his arrow toward them. There are too many. Time seems to slow as the soldiers turn their crossbows to Six, but he makes no move to avoid them. The soldiers pull their triggers as Six looses his single arrow, the cracks of the bowstrings stabbing my ears. I turn, too slowly, lunging into the path of the bolts, and time snaps back to speed with me. A bolt slams against my pack as I tackle Six, pushing me sideways as we fall. It rolls me over his legs, and then there¡¯s nothing underneath me. I¡¯m falling. Six¡¯s shout chases after me as I slide down the face of the cliff, but I barely hear it. I throw out my arms, scrambling for something to hold onto, my grip tearing away as soon as I find purchase. Ieldran¡ªplease¡ªmy shoulder smashes into a rock, and I spill out into a breathless, backwards fall¡ª I slam to a stop. Branches catch at my clothes, holding me in place like protective claws while I lie still, sobbing for breath and trying to get my bearings as the world stops spinning. I¡¯m sprawled across a clump of bushes, half-sunk into their thorny grasp near the bottom of the cliff. The sound of footsteps drags my attention down to find a soldier rushing towards me. He lifts his sword, but the thorns snag in my sleeve when I try to find my own. I force my hand through the branches, tearing skin and cloth alike, but it¡¯s too late. I won¡¯t reach it in time. He raises his sword, point aimed at my chest, and I cringe back into the bush. A shout pulls my eyes upward. Six hurtles over me, throwing himself into the soldier and sending them both crashing to the ground. He rolls to his feet, sword up, his back to the tunnel. ¡°Come on!¡± he shouts¡ªto me, the soldier, or the other rangers, I can¡¯t tell which. His eyes are wild, feet planted wide as he waits for an attack. The soldier lunges, but Six blocks the attack easily. He turns the blade aside and twists back, punching the point of his sword through his opponent¡¯s ribs. The man¡¯s armor does little to defend him at that angle, and I flinch away from his gurgle before he collapses to his knees and topples over. ¡°Are you hurt?¡± Six pants, stepping around the body and reaching for me. I shake my head as he pulls me from the thorns, my breath still ragged. Movement over his shoulder catches my eye, and I look to see more soldiers rushing for us, empty crossbows thrown down in favor of swords. Six follows my gaze and backs me against the cliff before turning to face them. Thare crashes, bellowing, through the trees across the canyon. He cuts down a surprised soldier and continues on, his indigo shouts spiking through the air. The remaining rangers burst through the trees after him, swords drawn as they rush to flank Thare. ¡°Come on,¡± Six says. ¡°We have to get to them. We¡¯re too vulnerable here.¡± He drags me from the cliff, skirting across the entrance of the tunnel. The soldiers have turned to face the rangers, leaving Brayam on the ground before the tunnel. Ieldran, let him be dead¡ªbut no, he¡¯s moving. Struggling. He rolls, letting me see the villager wrestling for control of Brayam¡¯s sword. Bronhold. I freeze in dismay as Brayam tosses him off and surges to his knees, eyes on Six. Bronhold tackles him from behind, leaving Six and me a clear path to the other rangers. Six¡¯s arrow is buried in Brayam¡¯s shoulder, but he doesn¡¯t seem to notice it. He roars as Six runs by, rolling and grabbing both of Bronhold¡¯s wrists. ¡°Burn,¡± he snarls. Bronhold screams. He jerks away, but Brayam holds tight, the blood-red glow of his Wordweaving glaring in the last of the shadows. Six is already past them, his attention on his friends, leaving Bronhold helpless to the attack. My sword is in my hand. Shaking, I change course and sprint to Brayam, still burning his way through Bronhold¡¯s wrists. He doesn¡¯t see me coming, doesn¡¯t turn as I approach and drop to one knee behind him. ¡°Let him go,¡± I say, pressing the edge of my blade to his throat. Brayam stiffens, his concentration breaking enough that the light of his Wordweaving fades. Gasping, Bronhold pulls free and falls back, his eyes glazed with pain. My fingers tremble on the hilt of my sword. ¡°Heal him.¡± Brayam¡¯s elbow flashes back and catches me in the cheek, and before I can react, he¡¯s knocking my sword away. It spins out of my hand and clatters over the rocks at my feet, and he kicks it aside before I can scramble to pick it up. I hold up my hands, fighting to keep my rising panic at bay. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do this,¡± I say breathlessly. ¡°There¡¯s an Ielic unit on the way to take the fort. You don¡¯t have to fight anymore¡ªyou can be free.¡± ¡°Free?¡± Brayam laughs. Six¡¯s arrow is still embedded in his shoulder, but he doesn¡¯t seem to notice it. His gaze is fierce and wild as he steps over Bronhold¡¯s body, flexing his hands like the weapons they are. ¡°I was a soldier before I became a Wordweaver. No one forced me to fight.¡± I stumble back and lift my own hands as he advances. ¡°You¡¯re outnumbered. When the Ielics arrive¡ª¡ª¡± ¡°Let them come.¡± Brayam lunges forward, his hands glowing red. I flinch away from his attack, but he presses one hand against my forearm and shoots a punch of energy into my skin. ¡°Burn.¡± The pain is instant. It stabs through me as his searing touch hisses through my sleeve¡ªand then he pulls away, lifting his arms and falling into a wrestling stance. ¡°Come on,¡± he says, swaying back and forth on the balls of his feet. ¡°Show me what you can do.¡± I clamp my left hand over my burned arm, but a quick glance shows it¡¯s not as serious as I thought. The burn is superficial, thank Ieldran. He¡¯s toying with me. ¡°I¡¯m a healer,¡± I say, easing into my own ready stance. I¡¯m no stranger to wrestling¡ªall the children in Vallegat used to wrestle, and I more than others because it was Aze¡¯s favorite game. I was never very good at it, but I know how to defend myself. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Brayam weaves toward me, a feint that I am too enthusiastic in blocking. ¡°Then you¡¯ve wasted your gift,¡± he says, wrapping his fingers around my wrist. Another quick command, another burst of pain¡ªanother taunting withdrawal. ¡°Why fool yourself? We were made to be weapons.¡± I don¡¯t answer. My arms sting, and a wave of anger crests inside me as Brayam smirks. ¡°Look at you,¡± he says, shifting his feet. ¡°Afraid. Weak. Why does the Phoenix choose to bless those who cannot use his gift?¡± Fury and pain send a flush up my face. I clench my teeth, fighting to contain the energy boiling beneath my skin. This time, I watch his hips as he rocks from side to side, and when he strikes, I step back and knock his hand away. A flash of interest crosses his face. ¡°Well. Perhaps not as weak as you seem.¡± ¡°Wordweaving is a blessing,¡± I say, my voice hard and sharp. ¡°It¡¯s a way for the Phoenix to spread his protection to others.¡± Brayam laughs. ¡°It¡¯s a judgement. A punishment for the one he blesses, and anyone around him.¡± He rushes me, reaching out with his left hand to grapple me into a closer hold. I try to dodge, but he¡¯s faster and I¡¯m out of practice. This time, the burn rushes down the side of my neck before he breaks contact and spins away. ¡°Yield,¡± he says. ¡°You can¡¯t defeat me.¡± I suck in a pained breath and risk a glance over his shoulder. Bronhold is still sprawled in the dirt behind him, his breathing harsh and rasping. Past him, a flurry of movement and the clashing of swords tells me the rangers are fighting the rest of the soldiers. I can¡¯t see the villagers¡ªthey¡¯ve apparently had the sense to get out of the way¡ªbut I recognize a clear blue shout that might belong to Kjerrin. I have to keep stalling. Just long enough for Captain Bayal to arrive. With a snarl, I rip off my scarf and bare the scars on my throat. ¡°I may not be a soldier, but I know what it is to fight. I will not give in to you.¡± ¡°Burns?¡± Curiosity burnishes Brayam¡¯s voice to a crimson-gold. ¡°Then you¡¯ve earned your gift. Why not learn to use it?¡± ¡°I use it to heal,¡± I snap. ¡°You must have used it to help someone, too. When you made your sacrifice, when you were blessed¡ªyou must have tried to save someone.¡± Brayam snorts. ¡°Wordweaving is a curse, boy. One day, you will learn it as well. There will always be people you cannot save.¡± I open my mouth to argue, but he presses forward again. My feet move¡ªI draw back, ready to deflect his glowing hands¡ªhe plants one foot behind mine and grabs my shoulders. I scrabble for a grip, but he twists and pulls me down. My back hits the earth. His hands close over my throat. ¡°This is a mercy,¡± he growls, his face close to my ear. ¡°If the Grand General got ahold of you, you¡¯d never survive.¡± He doesn¡¯t burn me. His palms press into the sides of my neck, cutting off my blood flow. The buzzing, weightless feeling of impending unconsciousness sweeps through me. My vision blurs. And beneath me, the mountainside is cool and solid, and the image of a thousand years of snow and wind and storms flickers through my fading vision. My fingers are wrapped uselessly around Brayam¡¯s wrists¡ªI force one hand to his chest. ¡°Blizzard.¡± Ice coats my lips. The detail comes to me distantly, like the memory of a winter¡¯s day in the heat of summer. My Wordweaving tears through me with all the force of fear and anger, roaring, blinding¡ªI summon snow and sleet and gusting wind from the air around me and hurl it at Brayam. His hands leave my neck. I drag in a ragged breath and to my side. When I meet no resistance, I cut off the rush of energy and prop myself on one elbow, panting. Brayam lies crumpled in the mouth of the tunnel. Still. For a moment, I feel light¡ªalmost giddy, with the blood racing back through my veins and Brayam¡¯s weight off my body. Then the exhaustion hits, and a wave of nausea shudders through me. I need to get up. Keep moving, keep the threatening darkness away. I stagger to my feet, squeezing my eyes shut when the world swirls around me. I inhale, take a step forward¡ªanother. ¡°Bronhold?¡± He¡¯s on his knees a few paces away, watching me with wide eyes. ¡°He would have killed them,¡± he says, his voice a raw, bloody red. ¡°To get to you, he would have killed them all.¡± I stumble to my knees at his side. ¡°He won¡¯t now.¡± ¡°You¡¯re with the Ielics.¡± ¡°The Ielics promised they could help,¡± I say, pushing down a surge of guilt. ¡°They¡¯re going to free all the trainees.¡± ¡°You came back?¡± He holds his arms out awkwardly, exposing the raw skin beneath his burned sleeves. Burns infect easily¡ªhe needs treatment soon. My head pounds a warning against healing, so I dig into my satchel and pull out a clump of dried comfrey. I spare a slip of my dwindling energy to revive the leaves and crush them between my fingers. ¡°I¡¯ll treat it properly later,¡± I promise. ¡°Why are you doing this?¡± I stop, studying him for the first time since leaving home. There¡¯s a new leanness in his face; a harder, brighter light in his pale eyes. A scabbed-over cut stands out against his cheek, probably earned during a training session, but he looks healthy. He looks like a different person. And I feel like a different person. ¡°Bronhold,¡± I say softly. ¡°Look at me.¡± He blinks, taking in the red Ielic tunic, the tea-darkened hair hanging in my eyes, my dirty, sweat-streaked face. My scars. I¡¯d been careful to wear my hood as often as possible in the fort, but now that he¡¯s seeing me in the light for the first time, I can tell the exact moment he recognizes me. His eyes go wide and his mouth opens as if trying to say my name, but nothing comes out. I give him a small smile. ¡°Rip up the leaves to make a poultice. You should cover this as soon as possible.¡± I look up, searching for a villager to help, but they¡¯re not standing off to the side anymore. They¡¯ve joined the attack. As one, the villagers have swarmed the soldiers, wrestling away their weapons, swinging their fists and knocking down the men who were little more than their captors. Pride warms the fear and guilt still burrowed in my chest. I turn to get started on the poultice myself, but something catches my eye in the tunnel. The gash of shadows under the opening, the dirty snow still clinging to the crevices in the stone, the wide, open entryway. Empty. Brayam is gone. ¡°The Ielic with the black hair,¡± I say, dropping the waterskin and bandages. ¡°Tell him where I went.¡± ¡°The Ielic?¡± Bronhold echoes. I¡¯m halfway to my feet when another thought drags me back. I don¡¯t have time to ask, but the words are out of my mouth before I can think better of them. ¡°Where¡¯s Aze?¡± ¡°Gone.¡± His voice is faint, whether from shock or pain, I can¡¯t tell. The usual earthy brown is flat with exhaustion and disbelief. ¡°Tenant Gryfalkr sent him away.¡± Then Chass did find a way to help him. Relief floods through me, washing away the worry and leaving hard determination beneath. ¡°Treat your wounds,¡± I repeat. ¡°Help is coming.¡± Before Bronhold can say anything else, I dash into the tunnel after Brayam. Torches light the familiar path, illumining the way I¡¯d hoped never to walk again. I try to find the balance between being quick and being cautious, but every pounding heartbeat reminds me that Brayam is too far ahead, carrying the news of our attack with him. The tight walls open up into the Phoenix Nest, and I pause to examine the cavern. The gaping silence is even more oppressive than it was before. I want to hurry through the space, back into the enclosure of the tunnel where there are no hulking shadows to hide in. But I make myself walk, my breath rasping in my ears, my heart slamming against my chest. A hand touches my shoulder, seizing my jacket and jerking me backwards. I drop to the ground with a strangled cry. How did he get behind me? There was nowhere he could have hidden, nowhere to¡ª ¡°You have brought shame on your people,¡± Tenant Tyrr hisses, twisting a knife at my throat. He pins me down, face inches from mine, his sour breath clouding in the cold. ¡°How¡ª?¡± I gasp, pulling away from the knife. ¡°My men are loyal to me,¡± Tyrr says, his face contorted in triumph. ¡°They found and released me just in time to see your escape. I left them to take care of your Ielic friends, but I swore I would handle you myself.¡± His blade trails downward, catching on the cord hidden under my shirt. ¡°Well, well, well¡­ what¡¯s this?¡± I catch my breath as he lifts the ring. His eyes gleam as he rips it from my neck, snapping the string and holding it before my face. ¡°I knew it. Captain Oristel said it wasn¡¯t possible, that the timeline didn¡¯t add up, but I knew it was you.¡± I try to squirm away, but his free hand shoves me back down. ¡°You thought you were so clever,¡± he says. ¡°Hiding in the mountains, thinking we¡¯d never be able to search all those forgotten little villages. Seeking refuge from your old allies.¡± I don¡¯t understand. I open my mouth to say so, but the knife bites into my skin when I try. ¡°I know someone who will be happy to know you¡¯ve been found,¡± Tyrr purrs, slicing a shallow cut across my cheek. I cry out, but he stuffs his hand down over my mouth. ¡°None of that,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯m not letting you get away again. After all this time, I am the one who has found the sixth heir.¡± I stiffen. The sixth heir, who fled toward the mountains and has been missing for a year. An heir who would have been hiding his identity with a nickname. An heir whose family was killed, who suffered from nightmares, who fights with more skill than a year in the army could have given him. ¡°Get up,¡± Tyrr says, grabbing my jacket to haul me to my feet. Pain cuts through the dizziness caused by standing, but he holds me upright and drags me forward with the knife once again pressed to my throat. I force my racing thoughts to settle, searching for a way out. I don¡¯t have the strength to Wordweave, but Tyrr wants me alive. So even the knife at my throat is not as dangerous as it seems. I stomp down hard on Tyrr¡¯s foot. He yowls in pain and I dive away, but he snatches a handful of my jacket and yanks me back. I scrabble for my sword, but it¡¯s not there¡ªBrayam had knocked it away, and I was too distracted to pick it back up. ¡°I¡¯ll kill you for that,¡± he hisses. ¡°As soon as Ambritten is done with you, it¡¯ll be my sword in your gut, and my face will be the last one you see.¡± ¡°You have that backwards.¡± The tip of a blade drives through Tyrr¡¯s chest, and I stumble back with a strangled scream. He gapes down at it, then at me, his mouth working like he¡¯s trying to speak. The sword withdraws, and Tyrr falls at my feet. Six stands where Tyrr had been seconds ago, holding his bloody sword and searching my face. His gaze stops at the oozing cut on my cheek. ¡°Are you hurt? Your arms¡ª¡± ¡°You¡¯re the prince,¡± I whisper. Six goes still. ¡°What?¡± ¡°All this time... all the searching. It was you.¡± Six¡¯s gaze falls to Tyrr, to the ring in his hand. I bend to pick it up and thrust it out at him. ¡°This is yours, isn¡¯t it? You recognized it that day you found me. You told me to keep it so no one would find it on you.¡± ¡°No, I¡ª¡± ¡°Tyrr thought I was you.¡± Hysteria creeps into my voice, and I have to take several quick, shallow breaths before I can go on. ¡°That¡¯s why he called me a traitor. He was going to take me back to Ambritten.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have let that happen.¡± ¡°Why didn¡¯t you say anything?¡± ¡°What was I supposed to say?¡± His words, glaring scarlet, ricochet off the cavern walls and echo down the tunnel. ¡°My family was dead. Their murderers were hunting me. What choice did I have?¡± ¡°You could have¡­¡± I trail off. What else could he have done? As long as Ambritten controls Awnia, Six is safer in Ieli. But to have kept a secret this big for this long... I only managed a little more than a month. Six has been with the Border Patrol for a year. ¡°Nobody else knows?¡± ¡°Nobody.¡± He glances at the ring in my hand, then back down the tunnel. ¡°Look, I¡¯ll explain everything later, but we don¡¯t have time now. Go back to the others, I¡¯ll¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯m not leaving.¡± Yellow torchlight flickers over his face, washing out the color in his skin. ¡°It¡¯s too dangerous,¡± he says in a strained voice. ¡°Then you can go back to the others.¡± I start forward, but he reaches out and catches my hand. His fingers tighten around mine, the dark blue of his eyes flashing violet in the shadows. He¡¯s so close that I can see dried blood on his split lip¡­ so close that when he opens his mouth, there doesn¡¯t seem to be any space between us. His hand releases mine and lifts, brushing up my arm and sending shivers down my spine. ¡°Brayam is getting away,¡± I breathe, tearing my gaze from his lips. Six clears his throat, dropping his hands to his side and stepping back. ¡°Right. Then¡­ here. I found this outside the tunnel.¡± He wipes the sword clean on Tyrr¡¯s cloak and holds it out to me, flashing a lopsided smile. ¡°Try not to lose it again.¡± I take it, sliding it into the sheath on my hip and dropping the ring into my pocket. Six leads the way through the cavern, and I follow in a daze. My heart still pounds, harder now than when I¡¯d had a knife to my throat. I have to focus. Gather up what¡¯s left of my energy, make a plan. But it¡¯s hard to concentrate with Six¡¯s footsteps echoing in my ears and the warmth of his touch still burning on my skin. I need a distraction. ¡°You weren¡¯t angry when you found out I¡¯d been lying to you,¡± I say, keeping my voice low. ¡°That¡¯s because you were lying, too?¡± He gives me a sheepish shrug. ¡°It seemed hypocritical to be upset.¡± ¡°Lucky for me.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a relief,¡± Six says quietly. ¡°For someone to know the truth. Even if¡­¡± Even if I¡¯ll be leaving. My desire for conversation slips away. Six overtakes me and ranges ahead to search out the shadows of the tunnel away from my puffing breath and heavy steps. My vision swims with exhaustion, but I try to focus on being observant. Each rock could be Brayam, each pool of darkness a trap. I keep my eyes on the ground, trying to pry hints of Brayam¡¯s passage from the dust. ¡°Six!¡± I startle, turning to see Thare, Redge, and Iorin jogging through the tunnel toward us. Six stops to let them catch up, reaching out to grasp each of their forearms in greeting. ¡°The guards?¡± he asks. ¡°Taken care of,¡± Thare answers. ¡°The villagers are under the care of your friend,¡± Iorin says to me. ¡°Bronhold?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Iorin looks up the tunnel, his hand still gripping Six¡¯s. ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± ¡°Stop Brayam before he reaches the fort.¡± ¡°Not much of a plan,¡± Thare says, pushing past us. ¡°No time to waste catching up here.¡± We hurry after him, but in another few moments the way brightens with natural light. Six lets out a dismayed breath, and the other rangers slow and look to him for new orders. We¡¯re too late. Brayam has already reached the fort. Chapter Nineteen ¡°Hashtha,¡± Six spits, using a word I don¡¯t recognize in any language. Judging by the sour look on his face, I assume it¡¯s a curse. ¡°What do we do now?¡± I ask, sagging against the wall of the tunnel. He slams his palm against a rock, chest heaving with each frustrated breath. His eyes are on what we can see of the fort, which isn¡¯t much¡ªjust the training yard and the far end of the wall. After a moment, he leans his forehead against his arm. ¡°We have to keep them from leaving the fort.¡± I want to tell him that¡¯s impossible, but he already looks so defeated. Besides, he told me to go back and I refused, knowing full well that we were up against an impossible task. But we don¡¯t need to take the fort¡­ we just need to stall. ¡°I can create a cover,¡± I say, forcing strength into my voice. ¡°If we can get to Oristel, we might be able to keep him from giving any orders. At least until Captain Bayal arrives.¡± Six¡¯s eyes find mine, and I have a feeling he sees through my act. ¡°Brayam can¡¯t have been too far ahead of us. He¡¯s probably still talking to Oristel.¡± ¡°Then we have to act now,¡± Iorin says. ¡°We¡¯ll need a distraction,¡± Six says. ¡°Something to keep everyone in the yard.¡± ¡°What are you thinking?¡± Redge asks. ¡°Remember Ohyr Run?¡± Thare groans. ¡°That didn¡¯t work last time.¡± ¡°It worked a little. We¡¯ll have better cover this time.¡± ¡°Easy for you to say,¡± he grumbles. ¡°You were on the ridge.¡± ¡°We¡¯re running out of time,¡± Iorin says. ¡°I say we do it.¡± ¡°Agreed,¡± Redge says. Thare grunts. ¡°Fine.¡± Six looks at me. ¡°Are you ready?¡± No. But ¡°no¡± isn¡¯t an option, so I move to the end of the tunnel, careful to keep myself hidden against the side of the wall. Six follows me, drawing his sword. His presence at my back is comforting, giving me the determination to take a breath and hold out my hands. ¡°Fog,¡± I command, picturing the cloudy haze of mist that used to drift through the valley in the cool spring mornings before the sun had fully risen. I¡¯ve walked through it on my way to Fryr Edlan¡¯s lessons, and I conjure up the clammy feeling of the fog on my skin, the disorienting sensation of not being able to see the houses I knew should be rising up in front of me. The word tastes like the whipped egg whites Herre Innre sometimes adds to his cakes¡ªairy and light and a little bit salty. My palms glow, the light lifting in tendrils through the air, and the fog descends. The ground is cool, and when the energy-warmed air spreads over it, the fog grows thicker on its own. I exhale, sending the fog out into the training yard, letting it build until it¡¯s knee level, then hip, then chest. A few Awnian soldiers cry out from wherever they¡¯re standing, and Six touches my shoulder. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he says in a low voice, leading the way through the mouth of the tunnel. I follow him, breathing deeply through my nose and keeping a firm control on the power seeping from my palms. It¡¯s harder than I thought it would be, feeding enough energy through the air to keep this much fog from dissipating. Nausea crawls up my throat, but I force it back down. The rangers are counting on me. Six is counting on me. Stepping from the dry air of the tunnel into the fog is like wading into a damp blanket. Nothing out of arm¡¯s reach is visible, and the fog is so thick it almost feels like a physical barrier. The shouts of the Awnians in the courtyard give us a good enough idea of what to avoid, so Six takes a route that will lead us to the stairs of the upper wall, taking us above the confusion instead of through it. The barest shift of movement behind me marks the detachment of the rangers from the tunnel. I turn my head to watch them disappear into the fog, little more than ghosts in the mist. As Six finds the staircase and leads us up onto the ramparts, I strain my ears for any sounds that might indicate what¡¯s happening in the courtyard. ¡°...never seen anything like this before...¡± mutters one of the Awnians. ¡°It¡¯s not natural.¡± The voice is faint, so quiet I can barely hear his words. The higher we climb, the less I understand. ¡°...see anything... you? How...¡± Another few mumbled replies answer him, and once I think I hear Brayam¡¯s name. The fog grows thinner the higher we climb, but I let that be. We need it in the courtyard, not the ramparts. ¡°Did you see¡ª?¡± asks a soldier below, and then a sickly gurgling sound cuts him off, followed by a thump. ¡°Corinn?¡± calls another soldier. The sound of swords being scraped free from scabbards drifts toward me, followed by the jingling of chain mail as the soldiers shift their weight. ¡°Someone¡¯s in the fog,¡± says a soldier. ¡°Sound the alarm! Call for¡ª¡± He is cut off as well, this time with a cry of surprise, and the other guards shout as the sounds of swords clash together. The fog around them begins to dissipate, and I redouble the energy wisping from my palms and concentrate on keeping the courtyard covered. I am so focused on that particular spot that I stumble when we reach the top of the stairs. Six has to steady me before I can continue. He draws his sword and prowls across the rampart. Three guards patrol the upper level, all of them staring down into the fog below with their crossbows pointed anxiously at the sounds of fighting. One stands only a few feet from the staircase, and notices us as Six climbs free of the fog. He lets out a shout and turns his crossbow on us, but Six is ready for him. His bow is already in his hands, and without hesitation, he draws an arrow and releases it in the same smooth motion. The arrow finds its mark, and the guard collapses without a sound as his bolt clatters against the rampart, missing Six by inches. But his cry alerts the other two guards, who also send up shouts of their own. Six darts in front of me as one of the guards lifts his crossbow, swinging his bow at the man¡¯s head and dropping him at his feet. Another bolt hisses toward us, and Six spins close to the edge of the wall, catching himself just in time to stay upright. The third Awnian drops his crossbow and dives for cover, drawing his sword as he goes. ¡°They¡¯re on the ramparts!¡± he hollers. ¡°Quick, to the ramparts! Invaders on the wall!¡± A moment later, he is silenced by Six¡¯s arrow, but the damage is done. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. I can¡¯t speak without breaking my connection to my Wordweaving, but I reach out and touch Six¡¯s shoulder in alarm. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he says, flashing a quick smile. ¡°The bolt just grazed me. But they¡¯ve sounded the alarm¡ªour time is running out.¡± As if on cue, the soldiers below shout, ¡°The ramparts! The ramparts!¡± A few crossbow bolts fly out of the fog, but they don¡¯t come anywhere near us. Six rushes ahead, and I stumble after him, feeling as if I¡¯m being pulled in two directions. The strain of keeping this much energy channeled and contained manifests itself in the form of a piercing headache, which stabs between my eyes and makes every step a fight. The Awnians are going to find us. We¡¯ll be outnumbered and we¡¯ll have no hope of getting through to the captain¡¯s quarters without battle. ¡°No¡ªthey¡¯ve come down!¡± shouts a voice from below. I¡¯m so distracted that at first I don¡¯t even recognize it as Iorin. ¡°To the western walls!¡± he yells. ¡°The western walls!¡± ¡°So far better than Ohyr Run,¡± Six says as the Awnians below take up the chant. Their crossbow bolts fly out of the fog again, concentrated on the western wall while we continue, unchallenged, to the east. My breath is coming in gasps now, and I feel sweat pooling on my forehead despite the cool air. Six hovers beside me, his hand on my shoulder, guiding me away from the edge of the rampart. I try to let my control slip every now and then, easing off the flow of energy until the fog begins to fade, and then funneling it back to build it up again. It helps, but only barely. Just a little longer. We¡¯re almost there. A figure rises out of the mist on the staircase ahead. He carries a bow, an arrow nocked and aimed at us as he ascends one step at a time. When he sees us, he freezes, holding his ground at the top of the stairs. I blink at him, taking in the familiar build, the vaak hair and the blue eyes that light on mine as he looks us over. ¡°Hello, Braids,¡± he says quietly. ¡°I thought I noticed some gold in the fog. Glad to see I was right.¡± Six glances at me in surprise, taking in the faint glow pouring from my hands. He turns back to Chass and aims his arrow. ¡°Stand aside,¡± he orders. He takes a step forward, but Chass turns his arrow on him. My heart does a strange, stuttering dance in my chest. ¡°Please,¡± I whisper, breaking my Wordwoven connection to the fog. Chass¡¯s aim never falters, but his gaze moves to me. ¡°We thought you were dead,¡± he says. A heavy, stormy blue drips from his voice, weighing down his words. I shake my head, but I have to pour my attention back into the Wordweaving. I whisper the command into the fog again, gathering it back within my control and concentrating it into the courtyard. ¡°You¡¯ve made some new friends,¡± Chass says, studying Six calmly. ¡°You both escaped, then. Tyrr went after you, but he said you¡¯d been killed in the battle.¡± Six blinks at me. ¡°What battle?¡± ¡°The Ielics waiting on this side of the tunnel,¡± Chass says. When we only stare at him blankly, he sighs. ¡°An exaggeration, I suppose. Tyrr said there was a score of Ielic soldiers waiting on this side of the tunnel, ready to rescue their scout. He said he and the other two guards could do nothing but defend themselves. The other two were killed, along with you, Braids. He said it was all he could do to escape with his life. I guess he didn¡¯t want to admit he¡¯d lost you.¡± ¡°Tyrr was never there,¡± Six says. He studies Chass a moment longer, the point of his arrow dipping slightly. ¡°You¡¯re the tenant who questioned me.¡± ¡°And you are...¡± Chass hesitates, glancing at me. Ieldran... Chass knows. I gape at him, then at Six, who nods to himself as if coming to the same realization. ¡°You were the one who unlocked the gatehouse door,¡± he says. ¡°You sent the message to Aquillis.¡± ¡°I see I¡¯m outnumbered,¡± Chass hedges, lowering his arrow. ¡°Where is your commander?¡± Six exchanges another look with me. ¡°I am authorized to accept your surrender. Put down your bow and give Brennr your sword.¡± Chass obeys, pulling his sword free and handing it to me with an expression I can¡¯t read. He has to be the real traitor¡ªthe fact that he¡¯s not fighting now proves that. But why? ¡°Bind his hands,¡± Six says. ¡°There¡¯s rope in my pack.¡± I¡¯m already at my limit as far as concentration goes, and I don¡¯t think I can keep the fog going while doing something else. I take in a slow breath through my nose and release the energy, hoping enough fog has built up to keep steady for a few moments. Chass holds out his hands, and I take the rope from Six¡¯s pack and wrap it around his wrists. ¡°Sorry,¡± I whisper, but he gives me a small smile. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you, Braids. Even like this.¡± I tie a knot, feeling as if the same is being done to my stomach. ¡°Chass¡­ Where¡¯s Aze?¡± He lets out a slow breath, as though the question had been on his mind as well. ¡°When Tyrr returned and told us you were dead, Aze was¡­ upset. He challenged Tyrr, and while I was able to convince Captain Oristel that his reaction was one of grief and should not be taken seriously, Tyrr made Aze his next target. He said that the only person who would defend a traitor must also be disloyal. Many of your neighbors came to his defense¡ªchief among them your betrothed.¡± Six¡¯s head snaps up, but I keep my focus on Chass. ¡°What happened?¡± ¡°The soldiers wanted someone to punish,¡± Chass goes on. ¡°Since you¡¯d escaped, they were happy for someone else to shoulder the blame. The only way I could think to keep Aze safe was to remove him from the fort. Captain Oristel signed his transfer papers yesterday.¡± Yesterday. We were so close. I push through the wave of disappointment and ask, ¡°Where has he gone?¡± ¡°A division nearby,¡± he answers. ¡°He¡¯ll be trained for real there.¡± Just like he wanted. So why do I feel as if I¡¯ve had the ground ripped out from under me? ¡°We thought you were dead,¡± Chass says. ¡°I couldn¡¯t risk leaving Aze where he was any longer.¡± ¡°No,¡± I say, shaking my head. ¡°You protected him. I¡¯m grateful, really. Thank you, Chass.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll find him after this is finished,¡± Six says, but I know it¡¯s an empty promise. And too far ahead of ourselves. ¡°We have to focus on getting through this first,¡± I say, waving for Chass to go down the stairs first as I speak my energy into the fog again. I¡¯m shaking now, but I can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s from the Wordweaving or¡­ everything else. Chass turns to descend, and I put myself between him and Six. When we reach the bottom of the stairs, I send out a pulse through the fog to clear a path along the wall. Up ahead, barely visible in the mist, two shapes argue in hushed tones. ¡°What do you mean it just happened?¡± demands a voice I recognize as Oristel¡¯s. ¡°I don¡¯t know, sir. One minute everything was clear, and the next...¡± ¡°Where is Tenant Gryfalkr?¡± Oristel demands. ¡°Brayam was supposed to bring him, and now they¡¯ve both disappeared. Find him.¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Footsteps signify the soldier has gone to obey orders, and as we creep closer to where Oristel stands, I hear no one else with him. ¡°You¡¯re surrounded,¡± Six says in Awnian, drawing his arrow again to aim it at Oristel. ¡°Surrender, and we will let your men live.¡± Oristel stiffens. ¡°Who said that?¡± By now, we¡¯ve gotten close enough to see the captain¡¯s face, which turns to us in shock as we appear through the fog. I take a shaking breath and release a margin of the control sliding through my fingers, clearing the area around us so Oristel can see he¡¯s outnumbered¡ªand that we already have one prisoner. Oristel makes a visible effort to control his expression. ¡°Who are you?¡± he asks. His hand reaches for his sword, but he doesn¡¯t draw it. ¡°I am an emissary for Captain Tiiberial Bayal of the Ieli Border Infantry,¡± Six says. ¡°And I am here to accept your surrender and the release of the villagers you¡¯ve taken captive.¡± Oristel barks out a harsh laugh. ¡°Is that all?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll find we can be quite persuasive.¡± Six nods his head at Chass, who remains silent. A shadow of doubt passes over Oristel¡¯s face, but his expression stays grim. ¡°And what would you have me do, exactly?¡± ¡°Surrender,¡± Six repeats. ¡°You give over control of this fort to my captain. In return, I will allow you and your men to live.¡± ¡°Your captain.¡± Oristel says. ¡°Who is not here.¡± ¡°He waits nearby,¡± Six says. ¡°Surely you don¡¯t think we two came alone?¡± Surprised, Oristel¡¯s eyes move to me, and his face contorts with rage. ¡°You,¡± he spits. ¡°You should be dead.¡± ¡°The Pathkeeper has other plans for us,¡± Six says, gesturing with the end of his arrow. Oristel glances from him to Chass, who still has not moved. ¡°You are bluffing.¡± ¡°By all means,¡± Six says in a low voice. ¡°Test me.¡± My muscles tense reflexively as Oristel reaches for his sword. The headache that had been a pounding ache is now a piercing pain that pulses down my spine. I won¡¯t be able to Wordweave again. Already I feel the power slipping out of my control, threatening to overwhelm me. If I don¡¯t stop the flow of energy soon¡­ A bugle call erupts from the tunnel and freezes us all in place. Six lets out a breath. ¡°That would be my captain,¡± he grins, easing his arrow forward. The yard fills with the shouts of hundreds of men and the echoing, victorious bugle chorus. Oristel hesitates, and Six takes the sword from his hand. ¡°It¡¯s over,¡± he says. Captain Bayal has arrived. Chapter Twenty I release the fog, letting it fade away to reveal a few forms lying still in the training yard, but I can¡¯t see if they¡¯re rangers or Awnians. The more I try to focus, the more my head hurts. I¡¯m about to ask if Six can see anything when he lets out a short breath of relief, giving me my answer. I squint through the fading mist until I find three figures standing on the outskirts of the battle, even as the rest of the men in the yard lower the swords they had raised against each other. Somehow, the rangers have used the confusion of the fog to get the Awnian soldiers to attack themselves. ¡°Stop, you fools!¡± shouts Oristel, his face red with rage and embarrassment. As the rest of the fog dissipates, the standard of the Border Infantry entering the yard from the tunnel becomes clear. Captain Bayal rides into the yard on a gray horse, Vikko by his side and an anxious Orami trailing behind. ¡°Put down your weapons,¡± Bayal says in perfect Awnian. The soldiers look at Captain Oristel, who gives a tight nod. They throw down their swords, and the Border Infantry sends up a cheer. Bayal continues toward us, taking in the sight of Six holding Oristel¡¯s sword and Chass bound between us. Before he reaches us, Orami rushes forward and wraps Six in a fierce hug. Six returns the embrace with one arm, thrusting up an enthusiastic salute with the other. ¡°Your timing is as perfect as always, Captain.¡± ¡°I see you¡¯ve taken my orders not to engage the Awnians to heart,¡± Bayal says. ¡°It was necessary, sir.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure. Who¡¯s in command here?¡± Oristel nods, glowering. Six releases Orami, who turns and throws his arms around me. I stiffen in surprise, but the hug is quick¡ªOrami leans back with his hands on my shoulders, his face lit up with a brilliant smile. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re safe,¡± he says in a gleaming, sky blue voice. ¡°I was worried when I got back and didn¡¯t see any of you by the tunnel.¡± Warmth shoots through me, melting away the tension in my muscles. ¡°We¡¯re safe thanks to you,¡± I answer, returning his smile. The other rangers have approached now, and Orami turns to embrace each of them. ¡°I am Captain Tiiberial Bayal of the Ieli Border Patrol,¡± Bayal tells Oristel, accepting his sword from Six. ¡°This fort is now under my control. Direct your men to give up their weapons and line up along the eastern rampart.¡± Though he looks like he wants to argue, Oristel turns and flicks his hand toward his men. The Awnians obey wordlessly, casting bewildered glances at Bayal¡¯s men. Bayal nods and looks to Chass. ¡°Who is this?¡± ¡°Tenant Warchass Gryfalkr, sir,¡± Chass says. He catches my eye and gives a tiny shake of his head before returning his attention to Bayal. I frown. Is he telling me not to mention that we know each other? Or not to worry? ¡°My second, Vikko, will speak with you,¡± Bayal says, his eyes following the look that passes between Chass and me. ¡°Six, I leave you in charge of the villagers. Tell them that they are free to go with whatever provisions they need for their journeys. I¡¯ll get your report later. The captain and I have some business to attend to.¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ¡°And Thare,¡± he adds. ¡°Don¡¯t try to hide that shoulder wound. Somre will be setting up shop in one of these buildings soon, no doubt. Make sure he looks at it.¡± Thare nods grimly, one shoulder hitched up and wet with blood. I study what I can see of it from here, but he covers the wound with his other hand and turns away. Captain Bayal dismisses the rest of us with a nod, but he catches my eye as I start to follow the others into the yard. ¡°I will speak to you later as well.¡± ¡°Yes, sir,¡± I say, giving him a clumsy salute. When he turns away, I watch Chass follow Vikko to the captain¡¯s quarters and then hurry to follow Six to the other rangers. ¡°Still the fastest runner in the unit,¡± Six beams, throwing his arm around Orami¡¯s shoulders. ¡°I was sure I was too late,¡± Orami says, grinning. ¡°You were perfect,¡± Six says. He looks the other rangers over, still holding onto Orami. ¡°Anybody hurt?¡± ¡°Just Thare,¡± Iorin says. Thare grunts. ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡± Six releases Orami and tips up his head, searching for Somre. ¡°Get it looked at, anyway. Then get some rest, all of you. I¡¯ll find you in a little while. Brennr and I have some good news to spread.¡± Ynria. I want to shout my name at him, make him say it over and over until ¡°Brennr¡± is buried in his memory. But I say nothing. After today, that¡¯s all I¡¯ll be¡ªa memory. It¡¯s easier to stay Brennr for now. Six leads us past the Ielic soldiers, all the way to the back of the line where the villagers wait like sheep without their shepherd. Bronhold stands at their front, wrists bound in the bandages I gave him, neck craned as he searches the fort. When he catches sight of me, he starts forward to meet us. ¡°Is this everyone?¡± Six asks, still speaking Awnian. Bronhold looks back over the gathered villagers and nods. ¡°They had all quarters working. We¡¯re all here.¡± ¡°Captain Bayal of the Border Patrol has taken control of this fort,¡± Six calls, lifting his voice to be heard over the villagers¡¯ muttering. They look at him, and at me standing by his side. ¡°Traitor,¡± hisses a Norwikker. ¡°You betrayed us!¡± The words cut, but Six goes on as if he hadn¡¯t spoken. ¡°My captain is aware of your situation and hereby releases your from your oaths. You are all free to return to your homes.¡± At that, the men go silent. ¡°Return home?¡± Bronhold says. ¡°Just like that?¡± ¡°If you prefer, you may remain here as prisoners,¡± Six offers. For a moment they simply stare, but then one steps forward¡ªGreth, who grew up just a few houses from me. ¡°I left a wife back home,¡± he says. ¡°And my unborn child. If I can return to her, I will.¡± He tugs the black band off his arm and drops it at his feet. Another man comes forward. ¡°I have a smith to run,¡± he says, dropping his own armband beside Greth¡¯s. ¡°And I a tallow shop,¡± adds another. ¡°My wife died last year,¡± says a third. ¡°I had to leave my children with a neighbor. I¡¯ll not let them be raised as orphans.¡± One by one the men come forward, throwing their armbands down and moving to the let the others past. Kjerrin and Bronhold are some of the last, but eventually they, too, give up their bands. Kjerrin hovers over the pile, glancing at me, but Bronhold pushes past Six and reaches out to touch my face. ¡°It really is you,¡± he says, his voice a muted yellow-brown. I flinch back, and he drops his hand. ¡°I thought maybe I was dreaming... that the pain was making me see things.¡± ¡°It¡¯s me,¡± I say, unsure of how else to answer. ¡°You came because of Mjera, didn¡¯t you?¡± he asks. ¡°Brennr was her father¡¯s name. You came in Arun¡¯s place.¡± I nod, looking over Bronhold¡¯s shoulder at the villagers, who have swarmed Six with questions of their own. ¡°And it¡¯s all over now?¡± Bronhold says. ¡°We can return home?¡± ¡°You can, yes.¡± He frowns. ¡°What do you mean? You¡¯re coming with, aren¡¯t you?¡± I swallow and shake my head. ¡°After everything that¡¯s happened, they¡¯ll never let me just go home.¡± ¡°They will,¡± Bronhold insists. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to them. I¡¯ll make them.¡± I give him a smile. ¡°Thank you. But it won¡¯t be so bad. I¡¯ll take what I¡¯ve learned from Fryr Edlan and find another village where I can serve as a healer.¡± His eyes are soft and clear, and he looks at me as if seeing me for the first time. ¡°You¡¯re a Wordweaver.¡± My heartbeat stutters in my chest. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°You were never going to marry me.¡± The last of my hard feelings against him melt away. ¡°No.¡± He lets out a long, heavy sigh. ¡°Will you ever come back?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± I say. ¡°Someday. But¡­ maybe not for a while.¡± ¡°I will tell your parents that you¡¯re safe,¡± he says. ¡°That you saved us.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°I won¡¯t let them say you¡¯re a traitor,¡± Bronhold interrupts, as adamant as he ever was. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure they know the truth.¡± That stuttering feeling is back, as if my heart can¡¯t find its natural rhythm. ¡°Thank you,¡± I whisper. Hesitantly, he opens his arms, and after a breath, I step into them and press my cheek to his chest. He wraps me in a warm embrace and sets his chin on top of my head. ¡°I¡¯ll miss you,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯ll miss you, too,¡± I say, and am surprised to find that I mean it. I wrap my arms around his back and give a small squeeze, and he plants a light kiss against my hair before releasing me. ¡°Be safe, Ynria.¡± He smiles, and it pulls a smile to my own face before I turn away. I hope Six will forgive me for abandoning him to the villagers, but the weight of everything that¡¯s happened sinks through me, and my head throbs with every irregular thump of my heart. I need to find Somre. First, I stop in the barracks to see if Edlan¡¯s satchel is there, but my bunk is empty. Hopefully Aze took it with him when he left. Maybe I can talk to Chass and find out where Aze has gone and see if they might let me visit him. If Tyrr told them all I was dead, I¡¯ll have to find a way to get word to him. Poor Aze. All he wanted was to go on an adventure, and I¡¯ve thoroughly ruined it for him. I catch a glimpse of Thare ducking into a building I¡¯ve never been inside. The infirmary. If anyone else was injured, Somre will need help with the treatments, so I make my way across the yard and tap on the door to announce my presence before easing it open. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. A row of beds takes up the center of the single room, and one wall is lined with shelves. Thare stands before one of the beds with a scowl, pulling at the bloody fabric on his shoulder. He looks up when I come in and returns his attention to his wound. ¡°Somre went to get supplies,¡± he says. ¡°Said there¡¯s nothing worth using here.¡± I glance at the sparsely filled shelves and frown, knowing just how useless this room is. ¡°I have some medicine.¡± Thare shrugs his good shoulder and eases onto the end of the bed, turning to give me access to the wound. He sits stoically, never flinching as I pull the cloth from his torn skin to study the injury beneath. ¡°I didn¡¯t see everything that happened,¡± Thare says, keeping his eyes on the wall. ¡°When the other Wordweaver attacked, you held him off?¡± I blink at him, but when he doesn¡¯t look at me, I return my attention to my work. ¡°I tried. I couldn¡¯t stop him.¡± ¡°And then you went after him. On your own.¡± It isn¡¯t a question, so I don¡¯t answer. I remove the last of my bandages and wipe my fingers on a clean part of the last cloth, looking around for water. Bronhold still has my waterskin. ¡°You took a risk,¡± he says. ¡°I left a message for Six to follow me,¡± I answer. ¡°There wasn¡¯t any other choice. Someone had to go after him, and the rest of you were busy.¡± Thare nods. ¡°You saw a need and you filled it. That¡¯s all any of us can do.¡± He gives another half shrug and leans on his good arm. ¡°If you want to stay, I will keep your secret.¡± I freeze, hand half extended toward a jug of water on the shelf. ¡°What?¡± ¡°It¡¯s hard to find a companion you can count on in battle,¡± he says. ¡°I don¡¯t particularly care what that companion looks like.¡± ¡°But...¡± I stare at him, struggling to speak around the swell of emotion pressing on my chest. ¡°The law says... And Redge would never agree to it.¡± ¡°It isn¡¯t up to him,¡± Thare says. ¡°What do you want to do?¡± What do I want? The lump of emotion crawls up my throat, spilling the answer onto my tongue. I don¡¯t want to be a nameless healer that travels through the mountains, wondering what¡¯s happening with the rest of the world. I want to stay with Bayal, a captain who trusts his men and inspires their trust in turn. I want to stay with the healer who can continue to teach me his wealth of knowledge, and I want to be in a position to use it like I am now. I want to stay with the rangers who took Six in, who became a family for each other. I want to be a part of it too. Thare watches my face as if reading my thoughts, his brown eyes hard and serious. ¡°There you are then,¡± he says. ¡°When I want something that badly, I don¡¯t let anyone take it away.¡± Hope. That¡¯s what this feeling is¡ªhope that I won¡¯t have to be alone again. Hope that I can belong to something bigger than myself¡ªas myself. ¡°I can¡¯t do it on my own,¡± I say, letting my hand rest on the water jug. ¡°No one goes into a mission alone. You have backup, if you¡¯ve got the courage to act. That¡¯s up to you.¡± Edelweiss for courage. That¡¯s what Somre had said when he gave me the little pressed flower, still tucked carefully in my pocket. Did he know it would come to this? Was he telling me I could stay? Ieldran, please let it be so. Now that the option has been given to me, I don¡¯t know that I could bear to lose it. I turn my focus to Thare¡¯s wound, reining in my thoughts as they stray into dangerous territory. Best not let my hope run away with my sense until I can talk to Six. Thare¡¯s support is one thing, but Six is their leader. If he tells me I can stay... And then there¡¯s the matter of his secret, too. ¡°It¡¯s a clean cut,¡± I say, clearing my throat when my voice comes out too thick. ¡°Not as deep as it looks. If I stitch it up, it may not even scar.¡± ¡°What¡¯s one more?¡± Thare asks. I smile, eyeing the raised lines that run across his skin like roads on a map. ¡°Six said you were already here when he joined the Border Patrol,¡± I say, dipping a clean cloth into the water to wipe the blood away. ¡°How long have you been a soldier?¡± ¡°My whole life. My mother left when I was young, so my father raised me. He and his unit. He served on the border during the Coastal Wars.¡± ¡°Why didn¡¯t you stay with them?¡± I ask. His gaze goes to the wall again. ¡°I stayed behind in the camp whenever they went into battle. One day they didn¡¯t come back.¡± My fingers still, and I look down at his blank expression with a stir of pity I have a feeling he would hate to see. ¡°I went out after a few days,¡± he goes on quietly, his green voice swirled through with muted blues. ¡°Managed to track them through the mountains where they had no business being. I only found out later that King Aquillis ordered them across the border with no support. The whole unit was slaughtered.¡± ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± I say. He lifts his good shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s the risk every soldier takes. I stayed there to bury them before the wolves came in, and then I went back into Ieli and worked as a mercenary, waiting for Aquillis to order another invasion, but it never happened. I didn¡¯t last long in most of my contracts. ¡®Respect problems,¡¯ they said. I questioned orders I didn¡¯t agree with, and most commanders don¡¯t like that.¡± ¡°Until you met Bayal?¡± ¡°The captain is different. He never signed me to a contract, said I could leave whenever I wanted and only had to answer to him. The deal suited me, so I stayed. I mostly worked by myself until Six showed up. Then Redge and Iorin joined, and Orami. Now you. An even six. It¡¯s a good number.¡± I smile. ¡°I hope the others see it that way.¡± I search the shelves for a needle, but before I can find one, the door opens and Somre peers in. ¡°Edelweiss,¡± he says. ¡°I was hoping I¡¯d find you here. Captain Bayal wants to speak with you.¡± Already? I glance at Thare, who meets my gaze and nods. ¡°I was going to sew his wound,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± Somre says, stepping inside. ¡°Bayal won¡¯t wait. You¡¯ll find him in the former captain¡¯s quarters.¡± A wave of nerves rocks in my stomach, but I hand over the needle and make my way out of the infirmary. The Awnians are still lined up against the ramparts, though now an Ielic soldier reads directions to them from a length of rolled paper. I don¡¯t see Six or the villagers. I reach what had been Captain Oristel¡¯s door and give a tentative knock. ¡°Enter,¡± Bayal calls, and I slowly push open the door and step inside. He¡¯s alone, limping down the length of the small room with his face drawn in thought. ¡°Close the door,¡± he says, I obey nervously. ¡°The Awnian Wordweaver isn¡¯t here.¡± ¡°What?¡± Bayal pauses, leaning heavily on his cane. ¡°He¡¯s gone. He reported your presence to his captain, but disappeared shortly after. Vikko has searched the fort, but can find no trace of him. He¡¯s gone.¡± ¡°But¡­¡± I shake my head, confused. ¡°Where would he go?¡± ¡°Another unit,¡± Bayal says. ¡°Presumably for reinforcements. Captain Oristel claims he did not send the Wordweaver away, but I¡¯m not sure I believe him. Regardless, it means I no longer have the time I hoped I¡¯d have. Do you know why I¡¯ve called you here?¡± Foreboding gnaws at me. ¡°You said you wanted to speak to me before I left.¡± ¡°Can you think of no other reason?¡± ¡°I¡ªI have no idea,¡± I say, but I know it¡¯s hopeless. His question caught me by surprise, and the tightening of his eyes tells me he noticed my hesitation. ¡°There¡¯s no use lying,¡± he says. ¡°I know everything. The damage is done, but I prefer to hear the truth from your own lips.¡± I don¡¯t answer. The hope that had buoyed in my chest just moments ago drains out of me, leaving a hollow that is quickly filled by despair. So much for staying with the rangers, for finding my place at last. To my embarrassment, tears prick at my eyes. But he asked for honesty, and I¡¯m tired of lies. ¡°What do you want to know?¡± ¡°Everything.¡± So I tell him. I start with Chass marching into Vallegat and speaking with the fryrs in the Kynstett, my and Mjera¡¯s plan to save Arun, disguising myself the morning the soldiers left. I tell him about our days digging in the tunnel, about not being trained, about Tyrr¡¯s treatment of the villagers. I tell him about Six¡¯s capture and Brayam¡¯s failed Wordweaving during Six¡¯s questioning, finally finishing with our escape. I use feminine words, speaking them with confidence for the first time, amazed at how light they feel on my tongue. Captain Bayal listens in silence, betraying nothing in his expression. When I finish, he perches on the end of a desk covered with maps and drawings of the tunnel and folds his arms. ¡°You¡¯ve overcome much in such a short time,¡± he says. ¡°You¡¯ve shown resilience and courage, and I¡¯m sorry I can¡¯t reward it. I am sworn to uphold the king¡¯s word above anything else. Whatever your plans might have been, it is against Ieli¡¯s law for women to serve in the military. Allowing you to remain violates his law.¡± ¡°It was always my intention to leave after we took the fort,¡± I say, forcing my words through a burning throat. ¡°So it was,¡± the captain says. ¡°But I¡¯m afraid it isn¡¯t just you I¡¯m talking about.¡± His words pierce me, slicing from his mouth like gilded arrows. I¡¯d left out the part about the rangers discovering my gender, hoping he¡¯d found out some other way. ¡°Please¡­¡± I rasp. ¡°I¡¯ll take responsibility for my actions, but don¡¯t punish anyone else. They don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Obviously they do, or Redge would not have been able to tell me.¡± The confirmation hurts more than I thought it would. How long did Redge wait before he spilled my secret to the captain? Was I even out of sight? Did he bother to make sure no one else was around, or is it being passed around the Ielic soldiers while I await my punishment? I bury the hurt under another reflexive lie. ¡°Redge found out by accident. No one else knows.¡± Captain Bayal lays his palm flat on the table, smoothing it over an early plan of the tunnel. ¡°I know what you risked in coming here,¡± he says. ¡°And although you have lied to your Awnian commanders and to me, you have helped us a great deal. Without you, we would have had no knowledge of this tunnel or of how to take it, not to mention what would have happened to Six without your intervention.¡± I clench my teeth, wishing he could end there. But he fixes me with his unyielding gaze, staking me in place as he goes on. ¡°But the law is the law, and I¡¯m afraid I cannot overlook it. You and the rangers are dismissed from the Border Infantry.¡± ¡°Captain, please,¡± I beg, taking a jerking step into the room. ¡°They didn¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°Now on to the next matter,¡± he goes on, talking over me in a calm voice. I swallow my pleas, waiting, and Bayal folds his arms again. ¡°Yours isn¡¯t the only secret I want to discuss.¡± ¡°What?¡± I breathe. His gaze settles on the cord visible against my neck. ¡°The Ryvenlock ring, isn¡¯t it?¡± he says. ¡°I have no idea how you came to have it, but I assume it means you know the truth.¡± ¡°But¡­ How did you...?¡± ¡°Somre noticed it when you were working with him.¡± ¡°He said¡­ I thought no one knew.¡± Bayal sighs. ¡°I suspected who Six was the moment we found him. He was very sick, and he called his siblings¡¯ names, among other things, while in the grip of a fever. Somre, Vikko, and I kept him secluded until the fever broke. He seemed to want to disappear into this life and we saw no reason to prevent him from doing so.¡± ¡°Then why dismiss him now?¡± I ask. ¡°He¡¯s safer here. If the Awnians capture him¡ª¡± ¡°They would kill him if they knew who he was,¡± Captain Bayal finishes. ¡°And I have done all I can to keep that from happening, but there¡¯s more to consider than just our wayward prince¡¯s safety.¡± I frown, my mind spinning with exhaustion. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± ¡°Not everyone is grateful to have the Grand General as Awnia¡¯s new leader,¡± Bayal says. ¡°One tyrant replaced another, and if our present course continues, war will be inevitable. But if there were another option¡­¡± The realization of what he¡¯s saying crashes over me. If Ambritten continues on as Awnia¡¯s leader, then he will invade Ieli. We may have saved the villagers here in the fort, but what about the soldiers stationed elsewhere? How many of them came from villages just like Vallegat? How many were forced into service against their will? What if we could stop him? Bayal takes a deep breath and straightens from the table. ¡°Ambritten must be challenged, and if Awnia is to survive another change in leadership, Six must take control. He¡¯s the only one who will be able to keep the country from fracturing into warring provinces.¡± ¡°Then why banish him? He doesn¡¯t stand a chance on his own.¡± A steady blue edge sharpens his words. ¡°Even if I had the authority to order an attack on the capital, the forces I command are not strong enough to retake Bresne. To even attempt such a thing, I would need the word of King Aquillis, and that could take months. And there¡¯s a significant chance he would refuse the request simply because I¡¯m the one making it.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t order anyone to attack Bresne,¡± I say slowly, watching his reaction. ¡°But with the rangers dismissed from the unit...¡± Bayal taps his fingers on the map. ¡°If a small group of fighters no longer under my command were to go on their own, I could do nothing to stop them. If I were to then find out about the survival of the Ryvenlock heir¡ªafter he was on his way to retake the throne, of course¡ªI may be able to convince King Aquillis more quickly that steps should be taken to assist him. Having an Awnian king who was once an Ielic soldier would appeal to him.¡± The room tilts around me, and I have to take a long, slow breath before it straightens again. ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re dismissing the rangers?¡± ¡°I¡¯m dismissing them as punishment for harboring a criminal,¡± Captain Bayal answers, smiling. ¡°A criminal willing to take risks to do what she believes is right. One who may be powerful enough to aid a reluctant prince in reclaiming his kingdom.¡± ¡°But I can¡¯t... we can¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°You haven¡¯t known them long,¡± Bayal says. ¡°But you shouldn¡¯t underestimate the rangers. Thare has always been a gifted fighter, and Iorin and Redge are some of the finest archers I¡¯ve ever seen. Orami is faster than any man in the infantry, and he isn¡¯t bad with a sword, either. Under Six¡¯s guidance, they¡¯ve become an impressive team. All they lack is a healer¡ªand perhaps a Wordweaver.¡± When I can only stare in response, Bayal¡¯s expression softens. ¡°I can¡¯t order you to do this,¡± he says. ¡°As soon as you leave this fort, you are free to return home or make a new life in Awnia or Ieli or wherever else you¡¯d like to go. But you would make a powerful ally, and I know you want to keep your countrymen safe. Six is our only hope for peace, and you are his best hope for achieving it.¡± How can he put this much trust in me? In the rangers? I should argue, should convince him to send more aid, but I know it will do no good. If this is the conclusion he¡¯s reached, it must be the only option. ¡°Say goodbye to your friends,¡± Bayal says gently. ¡°I will ensure they have everything they need for their journey home. I expect you and the rangers to be gone by morning.¡± ¡°The traitor,¡± I say. I pause, and Bayal nods his encouragement to continue. ¡°Do you know who it is?¡± He searches my face, curiosity bright in his eyes. ¡°No.¡± ¡°If you did¡­ what would you do with him?¡± A moment passes as he considers his answer. ¡°I would speak to him,¡± he says at last. ¡°I would want to know his reasons for sending us a warning about the tunnel. Perhaps he would be willing to do more.¡± I want to know the same things. If I can meet with Chass, maybe I can convince him to talk to Bayal on his own. Maybe I can help him the way he¡¯s helped me. ¡°Can I have permission to speak with one of the Awnian officers?¡± I ask. I¡¯m being painfully obvious, but based on how much Bayal already knows, he probably suspects Chass anyway. ¡°He was kind to me, and I¡¯d like to thank him before I leave.¡± ¡°You may,¡± Bayal says, his voice a shrewd blue. ¡°The officers are being kept in their rooms, under guard.¡± ¡°Thank you, Captain.¡± He nods, dismissing me with a short smile. ¡°Get some rest when you finish. And may the Pathkeeper guide your way.¡± I pause at the door, taking a steadying breath to stop the room from swaying, and leave the captain to his plans. Chapter Twenty-one As soon as I am free of the room, I break into a run¡ªaway from Captain Bayal and his impossible expectations, or to Six, I¡¯m not sure which. I dodge groups of Ielic soldiers and sprint to the only place I can think Six will be¡ªwith the villagers¡ªtrying to figure out what I¡¯m going to tell him. ¡°What are you doing?¡± The voice belongs to Redge, and even with my blood pounding in my ears, I can hear the yellow shock in his words. I jog to a stop behind a supply building, looking around for the man who turned me in. ¡°You agreed to keep it secret,¡± snarls another voice. His words are slurred with rage, his voice nearly shaking, and it takes me a moment to recognize it as Six¡¯s. I turn the corner of the building and stare at the two in surprise, but they don¡¯t notice me. They face each other, Six¡¯s fists curled into the fabric of Redge¡¯s shirt, their noses only inches apart. Redge twists in Six¡¯s grip. ¡°You agreed. I was against it from the beginning.¡± ¡°She was leaving,¡± Six says furiously. ¡°She couldn¡¯t have done any harm.¡± ¡°She already has!¡± Redge¡¯s voice is a flushed and desperate red, like a flood of scarlet dye soaking through plain cloth. ¡°I know what it looks like, but believe me, I take no pleasure in this. That¡¯s why I told you what happened. I¡¯m just trying to keep you safe.¡± ¡°She helped us take the fort!¡± ¡°Of course she did,¡± Redge snaps. ¡°She wanted her people freed. At least she feels loyalty to them, I¡¯ll grant her that, but she still acted in her own interests. And it won¡¯t stop there.¡± ¡°Shut up,¡± Six hisses. Redge¡¯s face contorts with anger. ¡°You don¡¯t know what Wordweavers are like. They¡¯re good at saying what you want to hear, but as soon as it suits her, she¡¯ll run. She¡¯s using you. She¡¯s already managed to pit us against each other. You and I, Six, we¡¯re brothers. I¡¯m just trying to help you.¡± ¡°Shut up.¡± ¡°Whatever feelings you think you have for her are false,¡± he goes on. ¡°A spell. She¡¯s only a¡ª¡± Six punches him, knocking him back a step and nearly off his feet. ¡°She was leaving,¡± he repeats as Redge staggers upright, rubbing his cheek. ¡°You did what you did out of hatred, and now we will all pay the penalty.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll thank me someday,¡± Redge says. He spits a mouthful of pink saliva between them and stalks away. Six watches him go, breathing hard, and turns angrily toward me. When his eyes meet mine, he stops short, like he¡¯s suddenly forgotten how to walk. He takes in a long breath through his nose, relaxing his clenched fists and running a hand through his hair. ¡°You saw?¡± ¡°I never should have come here,¡± I whisper. ¡°Don¡¯t be an idiot,¡± Six says. The moss green of his voice pulses with red, barely contained beneath a wrap of white exhaustion. And I have to add to it. ¡°Captain Bayal has dismissed you,¡± I say quietly. ¡°All of you.¡± Six takes a breath and nods, looking away to hide the deepening hurt in his eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to him,¡± he says. ¡°Make him change his mind.¡± I shake my head and walk toward him. ¡°He won¡¯t. He isn¡¯t doing it to punish you.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± His face is so serious, his attention wholly on me. Redge¡¯s accusation flits through my mind. Whatever feelings you think you have for her... I take a step back and look away. ¡°Captain Bayal knows who you are,¡± I say. ¡°He wants you to go to Bresne.¡± He goes still. ¡°That¡¯s impossible.¡± ¡°He says you¡¯re the only one who can challenge Ambritten. Our only hope for peace.¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± He shakes his head helplessly. ¡°I couldn¡¯t do something like that even if I wanted to.¡± Belatedly, I glance around to make sure no wandering soldier is going to overhear, but we are alone in the yard. ¡°You don¡¯t want to be king?¡± ¡°I just want to forget.¡± ¡°You want to forget,¡± I repeat, lifting one eyebrow. ¡°So you became a soldier in the closest unit to your homeland?¡± ¡°It¡¯s¡ªI didn¡¯t have a lot to choose from, did I?¡± ¡°You could have kept going,¡± I press, relentless. ¡°You could have found a farm in the middle of nowhere and spent your days tending crops. You could have gone to the coast and sailed off to another continent. So why didn¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t this what I¡¯m supposed to do?¡± he asks. His voice is almost as desperate as Redge¡¯s had been, sodden and scarlet as blood in the grass. ¡°Forgive? Forget?¡± ¡°If you¡¯re afraid¡ª¡± Six cuts me off with a harsh laugh. ¡°I¡¯m not afraid. I would give anything to face Ambritten. I want to take from him what he took from me. I want to make him stand over the ashes of his life and make him realize he lit the fire.¡± I stare at him, and he swallows and claws his fingers through his hair. ¡°But I¡¯m not supposed to want that, am I? I¡¯m supposed to go off and live out the rest of my days in exile and be grateful I¡¯ve been spared. If I go back, I¡¯ll just end up like the rest of them.¡± ¡°Maybe you¡¯ve been spared for a reason.¡± It isn¡¯t what I meant to say, but as the words leave my mouth, I see Bayal¡¯s vision clearly for the first time. ¡°If Ambritten attacks Ieli, thousands will die on both sides. You have a chance to stop it.¡± ¡°What chance? Challenging Ambritten on my own would be suicide.¡± The captain¡¯s words circle in my head, urging me to be brave. Edelweiss for courage. ¡°I¡¯ll go with you.¡± Six¡¯s expression softens. ¡°You¡¯ve just been given the chance to go free. Even if I decided to go, I couldn¡¯t ask you to follow.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t ask. I offered.¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter.¡± ¡°Where would I go?¡± I ask. My own dejection leaks through my words, and I pause to get my voice under control. ¡°After everything I¡¯ve done, I can¡¯t go home. My people see me as a traitor. If I stay in Ieli, I¡¯ll be distrusted because I¡¯m an Awnian. But if I go with you¡­¡± Thare¡¯s words echo through my thoughts. What do you want to do? I pull the ring from my pocket and hold it out to him. ¡°I can help you. I can help my people¡ªthe Awnians and the Ielics.¡± When I want something that badly, I don¡¯t let anyone take it away. Six¡¯s gaze follows the ring as it sways under my hand. ¡°Do you know the legend of this ring?¡± He reaches forward, but instead of touching the ring, pulls the cord up to place it in my palm. ¡°It¡¯s called the Everring. See the wings?¡± ¡°Raven wings.¡± ¡°Yes. This ring was commissioned by Eileifr I, first king of Awnia. It was made by Vilden Phoenix-Hand.¡± ¡°The first Wordweaver,¡± I say. He nods. ¡°When Eileifr passed the throne to his son, he gave him the ring. Legend says Vilden Wordwove the ring to ensure it could never be lost. That it would always return to the king of Awnia.¡± Pointedly, I hold it out again, but Six shakes his head. ¡°I had it by accident,¡± he says. ¡°That day, I mean. When everyone... when Ambritten...¡± He clears his throat, eyes flashing over my face and then turning skyward. ¡°I took it from my father. I don¡¯t even remember why... I was angry at him for something. I was always angry at him. But that day we were visiting my sister in Andred. Her husband was the Jerle of Andredia, the region closest to the mountains. Everyone was there. All my aunts and uncles, my sisters¡¯ children, every noble who held any kind of power in Awnia. I was out in the city when it happened, with Brannwen. My younger sister.¡± I nod encouragingly, and he goes on in a voice like rain-drenched autumn leaves. ¡°We heard the screaming when it started. Brann wanted to go back, but I wouldn¡¯t let her. We ran from it, through the city, and when she wouldn¡¯t stop crying, I gave her the ring to keep her quiet. We ran for hours and finally ended up in a tiny village across the river, and I was so exhausted and confused... I was stupid. We stopped at an inn for the night, and I paid with gold. I may as well have shouted from the rooftops who we were, but I wasn¡¯t thinking straight. That night, they came in through the window. I didn¡¯t hear them until they... until Brann was...¡± ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± I whisper. Six lets out a heavy breath and shakes his head. ¡°I didn¡¯t even go back for her. There was already so much blood, and she was¡ªshe was just staring at the ceiling. But the men were still there and I didn¡¯t have a sword, so I ran through the hall and jumped through another window to get away. I just¡­ left her there.¡± Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡°You couldn¡¯t have done anything else.¡± I want to reach out, take his hand in mine and press comfort into his palm, but my arms won¡¯t move. ¡°She had the ring,¡± Six says, his gaze sinking through the space between us until it settles on mine. ¡°I never expected to see it again. And then you showed up with it around your neck. It almost makes me believe the legends.¡± I¡¯ve never known Wordweaving to work that way¡ªto enchant an object to return to its owner, or to have any kind of power once the Wordweaver cuts off their power. But Six¡¯s story makes me want to believe it, too. That something lost can come home. That he can retake the throne¡­ that he can become king. That he can bring us peace. I close my fingers over the ring. ¡°You have more than this to help you.¡± ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°Me.¡± He lets out a short puff of laughter, soft and grass green, which soothes away some of the lingering red in his voice. ¡°What more could I need?¡± He runs a hand through his hair, his gaze drifting away from me. Following Redge. ¡°Six?¡± I ask, drawing his attention back. I search for something to keep him talking, to chase away the forlorn look in his eyes. ¡°What¡¯s your real name?¡± He gives me a half-hearted smile. ¡°Eileifr.¡± ¡°The same as the first king?¡± ¡°Well, my full name is Prince Eileifr Ryvenlock VI, Jerle of Vangbeld. I don¡¯t suppose either title means much now.¡± ¡°You were named after the first king,¡± I say. ¡°That means something.¡± ¡°It means my mother wanted me and my sister to overshadow our siblings,¡± Six says in a dry voice. ¡°She was my father¡¯s second wife, and she was jealous of his older children. Can you imagine naming your fifth child ever-heir? That¡¯s what Eileifr means. As if I was ever meant to rule more than a muddy province in the middle of nowhere.¡± He swallows, shaking his head. ¡°My brothers hated me for it. I often wonder what they would think of it now.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure they would want you to make the most of your life.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t know them,¡± he says bitterly. His eyes fall back to the cord trailing from my fingers. ¡°You should hold onto it.¡± ¡°But¡ª¡± ¡°Just until it¡¯s over,¡± he says. ¡°If you really think we can do this.¡± I give him a long, steady look, pushing a confident green through my voice. ¡°We can.¡± ¡°Then...¡± He takes the ring from my hand and holds it between us. ¡°I name you Lady Ynria, the King¡¯s Wordweaver, for as long as you want the title.¡± Blinding gold flares through his voice when he says my name. It¡¯s the light of the sunrise burning through morning mist, gleaming over white snow, bursting with all the colors of the dawn. It¡¯s bright and bold and beautiful in a way I¡¯ve never seen before. It¡¯s the color of my Wordweaving, and it settles into the green of Six¡¯s voice like sunlight over a meadow. Like home. Six steps behind me to tie the cord behind my neck, letting the ring settle back against the scars on my throat. I barely feel it, still blinking against the afterimage of gold and green. His fingers brush my skin, and I shiver. ¡°King¡¯s Wordweaver,¡± I echo, forcing my brain to catch up to the moment. ¡°Is it a paid position?¡± He laughs. ¡°If we succeed, I will make you a noble with a golden bed and a pile of jewels to count every night before you go to sleep.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a start.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a onetime payment, I¡¯m afraid, so you¡¯ll have to be careful not to spend it all at once.¡± ¡°Then I suppose I¡¯ll have to settle for it,¡± I say, turning to face him as he finishes with the cord. He smiles, but then his eyes drift away as he lets out a shallow breath. ¡°One not-quite-king and a single Wordweaver won¡¯t be enough. We¡¯ll need the rangers.¡± ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll come?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s asking more than they may be willing to give.¡± He eyes the sky again, measuring the time or the weather, a frown creasing the skin between his eyebrows. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t blame them for saying no. If that happens, I¡¯ll go to Bayal and make him take them back.¡± ¡°You should talk to them.¡± He sighs. ¡°I suppose there¡¯s no point putting it off. Let¡¯s go.¡± He turns, but when I hesitate, he stops and looks back. ¡°You should go without me,¡± I say. ¡°It will go better if I¡¯m not there. I¡¯ll meet you by the gate in the morning.¡± ¡°In the morning,¡± Six repeats. He stands still a moment longer, as if searching for something to say, but then he shakes his head and makes his way across the yard. I touch my fingers to the ring, at home on my neck once more, and go to find Chass. The Ielic soldier standing guard outside the little room lets me in when I tell him I have Captain Bayal¡¯s permission. The door isn¡¯t locked¡ªapparently it doesn¡¯t lock from the outside¡ªso I knock gently and ease it open. Chass is sitting on his bed, leaning over the side with his elbows propped on his knees. He looks up as I come in and flashes a tired smile. ¡°Braids. I was hoping you¡¯d stop by.¡± I step inside and close the door, my gaze falling to his hands. He¡¯s only wearing one glove¡ªmy glove, the one I dropped when I Wordwove to escape with Six. ¡°Aze took your other things with him,¡± Chass says, noticing my attention on his hand. ¡°But I wanted to remember.¡± My stomach squeezes at the thought of Chass mourning me. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve caused you so many problems since I¡¯ve been here.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t cause anything,¡± Chass says. ¡°I made my own decisions.¡± I take another step into the room, hesitating near his desk. ¡°Why did you send the message to King Aquillis? Why did you warn them?¡± Chass lets out a heavy, low sigh, as though releasing a breath he¡¯s been holding for a long, long time. ¡°You were right,¡± he says. ¡°When we met, you told me that what we were doing was wrong. And you were right, though you didn¡¯t know all the details. Ambritten wants to invade Ieli. He wants to kill their king the way he killed ours, and he will stop at nothing to accomplish his goal. Thousands will die on both sides.¡± ¡°Going against Ambritten is treason,¡± I say. He nods. ¡°I knew what I was doing. I would do it again.¡± Warmth seeps through my heavy limbs. For the first time, I understand the conviction that leads soldiers to fight. ¡°You should speak with Captain Bayal,¡± I say. ¡°I think he will help you.¡± ¡°You trust him?¡± ¡°Yes. He¡¯s a good man.¡± The smile works at his lips again, relaxing the lines around his eyes. ¡°Then I will. Thank you.¡± I lean against his desk, trying to fight off the exhaustion weighing on me. ¡°How did you send the message?¡± ¡°A snow dove.¡± At my blank stare, he lets out a laugh that warms the room. ¡°Snow doves are strong, skilled fliers, and they possess an amazing sense of direction. They also mate for life. If you have a roosting pair in a city, for example, you can take one dove to a different location, attach a message to it, and¡ª¡± ¡°And it will bring the message back to its mate,¡± I say. ¡°Exactly.¡± Chass sits up straight, his hands on his knees. ¡°And Captain Oristel paid a fortune to get a snow dove from the Royal Roost in Elni.¡± I gape at him. ¡°Why would he do that?¡± ¡°We needed a way to declare war,¡± Chass says, shrugging. At the shift in my expression, he nods. ¡°Yes, war. The tunnel was always meant for invasion. Oristel¡¯s orders were to complete the tunnel, establish a fort on the Ielic side of the mountains, and send word to the Grand General when it was complete. Then he would release the dove back to Elni with a declaration of war.¡± ¡°But you sent it back with a warning instead,¡± I breathe. ¡°Didn¡¯t Oristel notice it was gone?¡± ¡°I told him I was going out to the woods to learn why the wolves had behaved so strangely on the march,¡± he says. ¡°Then I trapped a wild snow dove, swapped it out with the one from Elni, and released it that night.¡± ¡°Amazing,¡± I say. Chass smiles. ¡°When I realized who your friend was,¡± he says. ¡°I knew I had to act. If Oristel found out that we had the missing Prince Ryvenlock¡­¡± He¡¯d have done what Tyrr tried to do with me. A shiver crawls up my spine despite the warmth I¡¯d felt only moments ago. ¡°That¡¯s why you tried to release him.¡± ¡°I did everything I could,¡± Chass says. ¡°I changed the guard schedule to make sure no one would be near the guardhouse, I left the door unlocked¡­ I even dined with Oristel to give myself an alibi. I never imagined Tyrr would blame you.¡± ¡°Tyrr saw me in the yard when the warning bell sounded,¡± I say. ¡°You couldn¡¯t have predicted that.¡± But his expression is sober now, his soft brown eyes burning into mine. ¡°You would have been killed because of my mistake. I thought you had been.¡± I push away from the desk and move to sit beside him on the bed. He shifts to look at me, and I hold out my bare hand so he can see the scar. ¡°I¡¯d never used my Wordweaving in the open before,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve always had to keep it secret, always hiding. I¡¯ve practiced on my own, but I¡¯ve never tested what I could do. Wordweaving in front of everyone like I did¡­ it was freeing in more ways than one. If that wouldn¡¯t have happened, I don¡¯t think I would have had the courage to face Brayam in the tunnel.¡± Now it¡¯s Chass¡¯s turn to gape at me. ¡°You did what?¡± ¡°I did,¡± I say, allowing a little trickle of pride to melt the stiffness in my chest. ¡°And I filled the fort with fog. A week ago, I would have thought it to be impossible.¡± Part of me still can¡¯t believe I did it, even with the pounding headache that proves just how much energy I exerted. Without those successes, I would have laughed at Bayal¡¯s earlier words. Me, protect Six? Help him reclaim the throne? Impossible. But I¡¯ve already done impossible things. And I¡¯m not done. ¡°Brayam escaped,¡± I go on, serious again. ¡°After he warned Oristel about the Ielics. Do you know where he went?¡± Chass nods. ¡°He has standing orders to retreat from any losing battle to regroup with the nearest unit,¡± he says. ¡°The Grand General can¡¯t risk losing a Wordweaver before the war even starts. But Brayam is¡­ complicated. Sometimes he spoke as if he approved of the Grand General, and sometimes he cursed everyone in command. He may go to Andred to warn Ambritten, or he may wait in the wilderness and try to take the fort himself. He¡¯s unpredictable.¡± ¡°Will you tell Captain Bayal?¡± I ask. He nods. ¡°Be careful,¡± he says, still frowning. ¡°Brayam holds grudges. If you beat him, he¡¯ll want a rematch. There¡¯s a chance he¡¯ll follow you to get one.¡± A twist of fear grips my stomach. I¡¯m only just getting used to Wordweaving in the open, but Brayam has been a warrior for longer than I¡¯ve been alive. I was able to hold him off because he was injured, and my blizzard caught him by surprise. What would happen if he fought me without distractions? ¡°Where is Aze?¡± I ask, pushing Brayam from my mind. There¡¯s nothing I can do about him now, and worrying will only make things worse. I have to focus on what I can do. Chass takes a breath. ¡°I sent him to the Third North Division,¡± he says. ¡°They¡¯re stationed out of Andred, but the most recent reports said they¡¯re patrolling along the river south of here. Hothram went with him as a guide. They should reach the division sometime today, if they haven¡¯t already.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± I say. I¡¯ll have to make sure to tell Six that there¡¯s another division patrolling nearby. Chass smiles again and reaches for his glove. ¡°I heard the Ielic captain is releasing the villagers. You¡¯ll need this back before you go.¡± He pulls it off and holds it out to me, but I stop short of taking it and look at the scars on my bare palm. I¡¯ve hidden them for so long, afraid that someone would ask too many questions and somehow figure out my secret. But there¡¯s no reason to hide anymore. ¡°Actually,¡± I say, removing my own glove and pushing them both into his hands. ¡°You can have this back. It was always a little big, anyway.¡± His brown eyes are soft as worn leather as he sweeps his gaze over me, comfortable and familiar. A premature ache builds in my chest at the thought of leaving him behind. Even when I doubted him, he was working faithfully in the background, trying to protect as many as he could¡ªand always alone. No wonder he sought friendship. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll see you again,¡± I say quietly. Chass¡¯s eyes crinkle in the corners. ¡°If you stay with the prince, I think our paths will cross again.¡± A knock at the door interrupts whatever answer I might have made. ¡°Time¡¯s up,¡± the soldier outside calls. ¡°Finish up in there.¡± I stand, pausing as black spots fill my vision. Chass is there to steady me, his gloved hand on my upper arm. When the spots fade, I tip my chin up to look at him, committing every detail to memory. ¡°Until next time, Braids,¡± he says, his voice a soft sky blue. ¡°Ynria,¡± I say. A smile breaks across his face. ¡°Ynria.¡± There¡¯s no color this time, besides his usual variety of blues. No burst of golden light, no shock of energy. Just the same mundane sound of my name, the way Aze or Mjera or Fryr Edlan would say it. I try not to think about what that means. ¡°Goodbye, Chass,¡± I say, looking back at him one last time before I leave. I thank the soldier, who nods as he closes the door behind me. The air is cool and bracing in my lungs, giving me a tiny burst of energy¡ªenough to get me across the yard to the infirmary. It¡¯s empty, thank Ieldran. Lighting a lantern near the door, I search the shelves and replenish my satchel with anything that might be useful¡ªa pair of scissors, more bandages, the freshly cleaned needle and thread Somre used to stitch Thare¡¯s shoulder. When I¡¯ve taken everything I can find that might be useful, I pick out a cot in the corner of the room, lie down, and fall immediately asleep. Chapter Twenty-two My rumbling stomach wakes me at dawn. For a few minutes, I lie still on my cot and gaze around the dark infirmary, enjoying the lack of pain in my head. Soft snoring across the room tells me Somre must have spent the night here as well, so I rise in silence and take some of the dried meat from my pack for breakfast. When I finish, I take a moment to heal the burns on my arms, relieved to find I can do it without incurring a headache. Then I shoulder my pack and satchel and slip outside, whispering goodbye to the sleeping physician. The sky is gray and heavy with threatened rain, and moisture crawls along my skin as I step out into the yard. Perhaps my Wordweaving had something to do with it. Maybe the concentration of fog drew more clouds in, and now all the surrounding areas will suffer for the Awnians¡¯ cruelty. I send up a prayer of protection for the villagers who will be traveling through the rain. Maybe Captain Bayal will let them wait until the weather improves. The others are waiting for me as I approach the gate¡ªall of them, even Redge. Each man wears his usual leather armor and brown-and-green clothes, with the addition of a heavy traveling cloak. When I get close enough, Orami offers an extra one to me. ¡°From Vikko,¡± he says. ¡°He found them with the Awnian supplies. He said they might help disguise us.¡± I wrap the cloak around my shoulders over my pack, fastening the clasp at my throat. ¡°There¡¯s an Awnian division south of the fort,¡± I tell Six. ¡°Chass said they¡¯re patrolling along the river near Andred.¡± He accepts the information with a nod and turns to the gate. The rangers all carry unstrung bows thrust through their packs, with capped quivers on their backs or hips. Swords and knives and small axes are strapped everywhere they possibly could be, and I set my hand self-consciously on the hilt of my stolen sword. It¡¯s the only weapon I have, and I barely know how to use it. It¡¯s heavy and awkward, dragging at my belt and tangling with my legs when I turn. I wish I could leave it behind. No one speaks as Six unbars the gate and steps through. Their silence is as oppressive as the threatening rain, hanging over our heads like a premonition. Iorin waves me ahead, wordlessly offering to take the last spot in the line, and I settle in behind Orami. Barely an hour into our march, the clouds give up their fight against the rain. Thunder rumbles in the distance, but Six says we will walk on until we see lightning. The landscape is barren, flat and marshy and miserable. I long for the cover of the trees and my lofty mountain, but I keep my complaints to myself. No one would hear them anyway¡ªthe wind whips across our faces, throwing back rain and making speech impossible. Once Orami tries saying something to Thare and Redge, and I think I hear the word ¡°prince¡± over the roar of the wind, but eventually he too falls to silent. We walk on. Somewhere around midday, Six calls a halt inside a stand of birch so we can eat a hasty, soggy meal. The others scatter to the side of the faint road we¡¯ve been following, and I move to sit beside Six. Before I can reach him, he turns his back and marches away, dropping himself onto the wet earth several yards from the rest of us. He hadn¡¯t seen me approaching, but I stop awkwardly and stare after him, feeling as though I¡¯ve been slapped. ¡°Don¡¯t take that personally,¡± Iorin says. He¡¯s closest to me, tucked with his back against the trunk of a tree, so I alter my route and sit beside him instead. ¡°He probably wants to keep watch away from the group.¡± ¡°Did things not go well last night?¡± Iorin shrugs, opening his pack and withdrawing his meal. ¡°There was a lot to take in, and these¡ªerm, gentlemen¡ªdon¡¯t exactly excel at discussing their feelings.¡± ¡°He told you who he really is?¡± I say. ¡°Yes, and some of his story.¡± ¡°How did everyone react?¡± Iorin chews thoughtfully. ¡°I think we all figured Six was involved in something bigger than the Border Patrol. The way he talked with Captain Bayal, as though he was an equal instead of a subordinate, and the way he spoke of King Aquillis as though they¡¯d met¡­ It was like finally getting the missing piece to a puzzle. Then he explained Captain Bayal¡¯s dismissal of the group and his plans to travel to Bresne.¡± He pauses to swallow and gestures toward my pack, but my stomach is too knotted to think of my own meal. ¡°He gave us the choice,¡± Iorin goes on. ¡°Go with him or remain with the captain, with the promise that he¡¯d convince Bayal to let us stay.¡± ¡°But no one did.¡± ¡°No. We all voted to go with him.¡± ¡°Then why is everyone so upset?¡± Iorin sighs, ripping off another bite. ¡°Redge was tense before Six came to speak with us, and they both said some things that were probably best left to themselves. It¡¯s hard to believe that he¡¯s been with us for so long without telling us who he is. No one enjoys being lied to, and we¡¯ve just found out about two lies in as many days.¡± He smiles to soften his words, but they sting anyway. I ask no more questions, and Iorin settles into his own thoughts as he eats. A few minutes pass, and then Six rejoins us so suddenly that I don¡¯t even know he¡¯s there until he starts speaking. ¡°We should keep moving,¡± he announces. ¡°If you¡¯ve all finished, let¡¯s head out.¡± ¡°Come on, Six,¡± Redge grumbles. ¡°We¡¯re drenched. The rain isn¡¯t going to stop for hours. Can¡¯t we wait out the storm?¡± ¡°We shouldn¡¯t stop until we reach the forest,¡± Six argues. ¡°We need some cover. If anyone¡ª¡± ¡°No one else is stupid enough to be out in this weather,¡± Redge says. ¡°That¡¯s exactly why we should take advantage of it.¡± Redge glares at him, but after a moment he stands, shoulders his pack, and makes an exaggerated bow to Six, who scowls and turns away. ¡°Move out,¡± he says, and we march again. The rain slows to a drizzle a few times throughout the afternoon, but it never stops. Every step is made more miserable by my clinging, chafing clothes, and as I wipe my dripping hair out of my eyes, I notice most of the tea stain has faded away. Slowly, I am becoming Ynria again. As the sun sets, Six sends Thare ahead to find a place to set up camp. He returns after ten minutes and leads us to a rock formation jutting out of the muddy earth. A hollow at the base will give us shelter for the night, and the thick stand of pines around it offers even more security. ¡°See if you can find anything to burn,¡± Six says, bending to search inside the hollow. Redge scoffs. ¡°Everything is soaked. Might as well just accept the fact that we¡¯re going to be wet all night.¡± The thought is unbearable. I haven¡¯t fully recovered all the energy I expended yesterday, but it shouldn¡¯t take much to dry a few sticks. Besides, I¡¯ve never really tested my limits before. How will I know what I can do if I don¡¯t keep pushing? Wordlessly, I drop my pack inside the hollow and gather a handful of fallen twigs. It¡¯s all pine, so the smoke will be horrible, but it¡¯s better than nothing. I make a pile under the shelter of the rocks and brush my fingers across the wet bark. ¡°Dry.¡± The word tastes brittle and earthy, like the herbs hanging in Fryr Edlan¡¯s supply room. My energy sparks to life and leeches through the wood, drying it in a moment. ¡°Fire,¡± I say, twisting the energy back into the bark, and it ignites. ¡°Handy,¡± Iorin says. He and Orami bring me more wood to dry, and we stack it under the outcropping for use during the night. ¡°Do you have provisions?¡± Orami asks as we finish. ¡°Yes.¡± Six catches my eye and signs, ¡°Eat now.¡± ¡°I will,¡± I sign back, though I don¡¯t think I taught him that. I make a fist with my right hand, but then drop it to my side when I notice Orami staring. ¡°What are you doing?¡± he asks. ¡°Signing,¡± Six says. ¡°Come here, you can learn, too. It¡¯ll be useful on missions.¡± ¡°What missions?¡± Redge says. He sits inside the hollow with his back against the wall, and the way he¡¯s hunched in his cloak makes it seem as if he¡¯s hugging himself. ¡°We don¡¯t have missions anymore.¡± Orami tips his head. ¡°Isn¡¯t this sort of a mission?¡± ¡°No knowledge is useless,¡± Six adds, his eyes flicking to Iorin. ¡°Isn¡¯t that right?¡± If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°It certainly couldn¡¯t hurt to learn,¡± Iorin says. ¡°Go on,¡± Six tells me. Orami nods eagerly, his green eyes wide with curiosity. Self-conscious, I place my right fist in my left palm and push them both away from my chest. ¡°This means ¡®help¡¯,¡± I tell him. ¡°I thought it might be good to learn as a command.¡± ¡°Like ¡®I need help¡¯?¡± Orami asks. ¡°Like ¡®Go help Thare¡¯,¡± Six says. Thare grunts, but his eyes stay on Six as he copies the sign. ¡°How would we know who to help?¡± Iorin asks. ¡°You could spell out the name,¡± I say, turning my fingers in a quick spelling of ¡®Iorin¡¯. ¡°But it might be faster to attribute signs for each of you.¡± ¡°You mean make them up?¡± Orami asks. ¡°Think of it as picking a name in a different language,¡± I say. ¡°If you could call yourself anything, what would it be?¡± Orami¡¯s lips twist in a show of thoughtfulness. ¡°My name means ¡®homeland¡¯.¡± I press my right hand over my heart and then motion wide. ¡°Homeland,¡± I say. ¡°Now Orami.¡± ¡°Wonderful,¡± Iorin says. ¡°We should all have new names. Six of course will be ¡®six¡¯.¡± I lift my little finger and make a fist with the rest. ¡°And Iorin, you should be ¡®advocate¡¯,¡± Orami says. ¡°That¡¯s what you were studying to be, isn¡¯t it?¡± He looks at me expectantly, but I shake my head. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what that is.¡± Iorin smiles. ¡°An advocate defends others in the courts of law,¡± he says. ¡°I was lucky enough to earn a patronage at the university in Elni through a friend of my father¡¯s. I spent eight years learning rhetoric, philosophy, and law with the Advocate Guild, and serving as a public defender when citizens appealed to the guild for help. Only fully trained guild members can choose their own cases and take on apprentices, and that¡¯s what I was working for before¡­¡± He trails off, clearing his throat. Before his brother died¡ªbefore Redge left home to enlist. I glance at Redge, and for once, the simmering emotion in his eyes looks less like rage and more like... Guilt. Despite everything he did to help Jayr, Redge wasn¡¯t able to save him. That would be hard enough to live with, but to also feel responsible for Iorin giving up his dreams after almost a decade of study? It¡¯s no wonder he¡¯s taking out his frustrations on me. He has to release them somehow. It¡¯s a miracle he hasn¡¯t burst. I ball my fists and cross my arms over my chest, then spread the thumb and forefinger on my right hand and draw them downwards in front of me. ¡°I don¡¯t know a sign for ¡®advocate¡¯,¡± I say. ¡°But this means ¡®defender¡¯.¡± Iorin copies the sign with a wistful look on his face. ¡°Now Redge!¡± Orami says. ¡°He should be¡ª¡± Redge pulls his hood over his head. ¡°I don¡¯t want any part of this.¡± ¡°It¡¯ll be helpful,¡± Orami says. ¡°Then what¡¯s the sign for ¡®stupid¡¯?¡± Redge asks, sharp reds and violets streaking through his voice. He lifts his head to glare a challenge at me, and I meet it without flinching. After a moment, I make a slow and deliberate fist, turning the back of my hand out to face him, and set my knuckles against my lips. I make a small motion to pull it downwards and then drop my hand to my side. Redge makes the sign at me, his eyes hard. Then at Orami, then Six, then Iorin, each movement tight and angry. Then he stands, yanks the hood down over his face, and stalks out into the rain. ¡°I¡¯ll take first watch,¡± he snaps, disappearing into the trees. I stare after him, exhaling through my nose. Iorin glances between the two of us before jogging after his brother, leaving the rest of the rangers in the little clearing. ¡°Things may be difficult for a while,¡± Six says, running a hand through his wet hair. ¡°Redge is¡­ well¡­¡± ¡°Stubborn?¡± I mutter. ¡°Loyal,¡± he says, closing his eyes. ¡°Loyal to the point of fear.¡± A drop of pitch pops in the fire, sending a spray of sparks into the gathering darkness. ¡°He¡¯s afraid to lose the people he cares about,¡± I say. ¡°Terrified,¡± Six says. ¡°And I don¡¯t think he¡¯s used to being afraid.¡± That doesn¡¯t excuse his behavior. I understand being suspicious, but haven¡¯t I proved myself by now? What else can I possibly do? ¡°I wish you didn¡¯t tell him the sign for ¡®stupid¡¯,¡± Six says. ¡°That¡¯s all he¡¯s ever going to use now.¡± ¡°Well...¡± He blinks his eyes open, a smile quirking up one corner of his lips. ¡°Unless you gave him a different word?¡± ¡°I may have.¡± Six sits up, leaning forward eagerly. ¡°What did you tell him?¡± I smile. ¡°Beloved.¡± *** That night, I sleep with my back against the rock wall, listening to the drizzle outside and the crackle of the fire. I spared enough energy to dry my clothes and those of the other rangers before bed (Redge refused, insisting on changing into a spare set of clothes and hanging his wet ones near the fire), and the exertions are enough to send me into a deep sleep despite the discomfort of the rocky ground. I wake when Iorin rouses Six at dawn, and thank Ieldran for the silence outside our shelter. ¡°Get the others up,¡± Six says. ¡°We¡¯ll get an early start and see if we can¡¯t get a little more rest this afternoon.¡± In silence, we rise and scatter the coals of the fire. Redge rolls up his still-damp clothes and stuffs them into his pack, glaring when he catches me watching. I don¡¯t offer to dry them again. If he changes his mind, he can ask. Outside the rock formation, Six pauses and studies the forest. ¡°If the Awnian division is nearby, they¡¯ll stay near Andred,¡± he says. ¡°So we¡¯ll keep west of the city and take the old highway. It used to run from Bresne to the mountains, back when trade with Ieli was still common.¡± ¡°Won¡¯t that be a little obvious?¡± Redge asks. ¡°It¡¯s the quickest route to Bresne,¡± Six says. ¡°Surprise is our best ally now. This will only work if Ambritten doesn¡¯t know we¡¯re coming, and the longer we spend in Awnia, the more chance there is that he¡¯ll hear of us.¡± No one can argue that¡ªnot even Redge¡ªso we follow Six into the trees without comment. Birds dart from the branches overhead, chirping and fluttering as the sun rises, heralding a morning that promises to be dry, if not quite warm. I keep my eyes on the ground as we march, searching for medicinal plants to add to my collection. Thare ranges ahead as usual, but the others stay in a silent line. We have been walking for about two hours when the drone of a river reaches my ears. Six angles us toward it, searching the earth and pausing frequently to readjust our course. When at last the river becomes visible through the trees, Six leads us along the banks until we find a flat bridge with low guard rails stretching across the length of the river. The area on both sides of the water is wooded, but the traces of an old road disappear into the trees on the far bank. ¡°This was a highway?¡± Orami asks doubtfully. Six nods. ¡°A long time ago. It leads past Andred and south to Bresne, connecting all the port cities along the coast. Most traffic from the north uses the Andred ferry instead of the old highway, so we shouldn¡¯t run into anyone else until we pass the city.¡± ¡°How did you know about the bridge if people don¡¯t use it anymore?¡± Orami asks. ¡°Did you have to study maps of your country when you were taking prince classes? You probably have all sorts of secret paths memorized!¡± ¡°He didn¡¯t take prince classes,¡± Redge scoffs. ¡°He was fourth in line to the throne, and that¡¯s only assuming none of his older brothers ever had sons.¡± ¡°No prince classes,¡± Six confirms quietly. ¡°I found this on accident after my family was attacked in Andred. The ferry was being watched, so I had to cross the river another way. I got lucky and stumbled on the old highway, which led me to this bridge.¡± For once, Redge has the grace to keep any more thoughtless comments to himself. The last time Six was here, he had just lost everything¡ªhis entire family, all his friends, everyone and everything he had ever known. He¡¯d been running for his life, lost and alone, with no hope of finding help except to seek it from his enemies. By unspoken agreement, we wait for Six to take the first step onto the bridge. He looks over his shoulder as we hesitate and forces a laugh. ¡°Come on, we¡¯ve got a lot of traveling yet today.¡± He starts out, and we follow in single file. ¡°Can you imagine Six studying geography?¡± Redge says in a loud whisper. ¡°Skipping out on class, more likely,¡± Thare says. Six turns his head. ¡°I¡¯ll have you know I was a model student. All the tutors said¡ª¡± Heat flares across the back of my neck, followed by a rash of itchy, buzzing sensations that shoot down my spine. I gasp at the suddenness of it, stopping short, and Six cuts himself off and jerks to a stop beside me. His hand is on my arm, a frown between his brows. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°Brayam,¡± I say, rubbing my neck. ¡°He¡¯s nearby.¡± ¡°The other Wordweaver?¡± Iorin asks. I rub my neck, searching the far banks. ¡°Chass said¡ªI mean Tenant Gryfalkr, at the fort¡ªhe said Brayam might have gone to join the unit, or he might be on his own, waiting to go back to the fort or... or to challenge me. Chass said he was unpredictable.¡± ¡°And your tenant just told you all of this?¡± Redge asks. ¡°After the fort under his command was captured by the enemy soldiers you were helping? Why would he do that?¡± I glare at him. ¡°Chass is a friend. And he guessed Six¡¯s identity and tried to release him when he was a prisoner. He wants to help us.¡± For once, Redge doesn¡¯t have a comeback. He just blinks at me, his mouth parted in surprise. Six presses on my arm, guiding me back along the bridge. ¡°We¡¯ll discuss it later,¡± he says. ¡°For now, we should retreat. We¡¯ll take the western ford. It will cost us a few days, but it¡¯s better than¡ª¡± ¡°If she can sense him,¡± Thare interrupts. ¡°He can sense her. It¡¯s too late to retreat. We should keep going, and if he wants to challenge her, he¡¯s welcome to. We outnumber him. We should make our stand now.¡± Iorin nods. ¡°And if she already beat him, he may retreat instead. Especially once he sees all of us.¡± Six hesitates, his hand still on my arm. ¡°It could be dangerous.¡± ¡°We¡¯re on a mission to overthrow a violent dictator,¡± Orami points out. ¡°The whole thing is dangerous.¡± Six snorts. ¡°Fine. Keep your eyes open. Iorin, bow.¡± Iorin is already moving, pulling his bowstring from his pocket and kneeling to slip the loops into the notches at either end of his weapon. His actions are quick and sure, but I fidget as he works, unable to tear my gaze from the far bank. I only managed to hold off Brayam before because he was injured¡ªby now, he¡¯ll have had enough time to heal himself, and I still haven¡¯t recovered all the energy I spent yesterday. If he wants a rematch, I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll be able to stand against him. As if sensing my thoughts, Six gives my arm a squeeze. ¡°We¡¯re with you,¡± he whispers. I blink at him, at the raven-black hair curling over his forehead, at the dark blue eyes still focused on the far bank. He notices my attention and glances down at me, drops his hand to his side, and winks. ¡°Ready?¡± he asks over his shoulder. ¡°To face an angry Wordweaver?¡± Redge grumbles. ¡°Why not?¡± ¡°Maybe this¡¯ll give you a chance to work out some of your resentment,¡± Thare says, knocking him in the shoulder as he pushes past. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s,¡± Iorin agrees, nocking an arrow to his bowstring. ¡°There¡¯s nothing better than a morning stroll and a little violence to start your day.¡± Redge frowns at them, but draws his sword and follows when Six leads the way off the bridge. He doesn¡¯t command the rangers to spread out, but they do¡ªfanning into a diamond formation with Iorin at the back, Redge and Orami at the side, and Thare walking between me and Six. I end up in the middle, defended on all sides while maintaining enough space to attack in any direction. The morning is still and quiet, broken only by the drumming of the river. Nothing moves in the trees, no birds call from the branches¡ªand I feel eyes on me with every cautious step. The burning along my neck stays the same, never fading or growing more intense, a constant reminder that we are not alone. That something is coming. Six ducks a low-hanging branch and glances back at me. ¡°Is he still there?¡± I nod. ¡°Handy ability,¡± Redge mutters. ¡°Would be better if you could tell us where he is.¡± ¡°Think of this as an opportunity to practice your powers of observation,¡± Iorin says. ¡°Seems like I¡¯m doing plenty of character work this morning,¡± Redge says. ¡°What are the rest of you doing?¡± ¡°The rest of us don¡¯t need it,¡± Iorin says. Redge bends to toss a branch out of Iorin¡¯s path. ¡°Well I think¡ª¡± An arrow slices through the air above his head. Iorin spins, loosing his arrow into the trees almost before he¡¯s stopped moving. There¡¯s a grunt and a clatter, and an Awnian soldier staggers out from behind a pine to collapse across the path behind us. For a moment, no one else moves. Then there¡¯s a cry in the brush, and half a dozen soldiers burst onto the path, swords raised. We¡¯re surrounded. Chapter Twenty-three Six draws his sword, and the rangers spin to put their backs together¡ªto me, boxing me in with their weapons held out before them. The soldiers rush us, pouring out of the trees¡ªsix, seven, eight of them, and who knows how many more. How did they get behind us? The Awnian unit should be closer to Andred, unless¡ªif Brayam already found them, if he was bringing them back to the fort¡ª One of the soldiers lifts a crossbow, and my thoughts scatter. ¡°Gale,¡± I shout, drawing on my fear and fusing the word with a punch of power. Papa used to tell me a story of his days as a soldier, when he was sent to guard the Awnian ports and spent most of a year on a ship. He told me about the gales that would scream through the rigging with what seemed like enough force to rip the world apart, and the memory rings in my ears as the winds gather to obey me. I taste sea spray as a torrent of wind slashes out from my hands. It cuts down the crossbow bolt aimed at us, then hurtles out against the soldiers, flinging them aside like dandelion seeds. I stagger as the wind blows itself out. Six catches my arm and pulls me forward. ¡°Go!¡± The others follow, breaking formation to sprint between the trees. ¡°How many are there?¡± Redge pants. Six¡¯s grip on my arm tightens. ¡°If it¡¯s the unit from Andred? A couple hundred.¡± He breaks off, glancing over his shoulder, and jogs to a stop. ¡°We need to split up, make them divide their forces. Cut east until you find the ferryman¡¯s hut on the outskirts of Andred. We¡¯ll regroup there and¡ª¡± A crash sounds through the trees, followed by shouts in Awnian. ¡°Partners,¡± Six says. He reaches for me, but a crossbow bolt splits the air between us and sends me reeling backwards. ¡°I¡¯ll take her,¡± Thare says, drawing me toward him. Six¡¯s eyes stay on me until Iorin drags him away, following Orami and Redge as they disappear into the trees. Then we¡¯re running. We slip between a pair of aspens, Thare¡¯s hand still on my arm as he guides me across a path he changes every few steps. He takes us south before turning east, then south again, then cutting back, always running farther and farther from the river. I¡¯m careful to follow his footsteps exactly, avoiding the frequent patches of mud, leaving the fewest footprints possible. Before long we break into a clearing, and Thare pauses to listen. ¡°We have to go east again,¡± he says. ¡°Otherwise we¡¯ll¡ª¡± He grunts and stumbles as a crossbow bolt thuds into his leg. I jump back, spinning to face the three soldiers stalking into the clearing. ¡°Surrender,¡± one of them says, shouldering his crossbow. The other two only have swords, which they lift wordlessly. Thare forces a rough breath through his nose. ¡°Ielics aren¡¯t trained to surrender.¡± ¡°You¡¯re outnumbered.¡± ¡°Just the way I like it.¡± Thare hauls me backwards as the three surge across the clearing, knocking aside one sword¡ªtwo¡ªdodging under the last. He slices one soldier across the neck, twisting to keep his back to the trees. To me. He staggers as the two remaining soldiers renew their attack, and I summon the wind again. I try to direct it around Thare, but it tears at his clothes and drags him forward a step before he catches himself. The soldiers are thrown away from him, blown off their feet to smash into the earth, their swords tumbling from limp grasps. Thare faces me, panting and sheathing his sword. ¡°You¡¯re getting good at that.¡± ¡°Plenty of practice,¡± I say. I reach for the bolt in his leg, but he stumbles away. ¡°Later. We have to go.¡± Though I¡¯d prefer to at least examine the wound, he¡¯s right. The bolt will help stop the bleeding if we leave it where it is, and I can treat him when we¡¯re safe. I duck under his arm to help support his weight, and we step into the trees. Pain flares across the back of my neck. I slap my hand to it, flinching¡ªbut no, it isn¡¯t pain¡ªit¡¯s the presence of another Wordweaver. ¡°Brayam is here,¡± I gasp. ¡°We have to¡ª¡± A blast of heat makes me cry out and shield my face, and Thare¡¯s arm tightens over my shoulders as he tries to pull me aside. The air crackles around me and then stills, the rush of power past, and I look back to the fallen Awnians with my heart pounding in my throat. A woman stands over the fallen soldiers, flames circling her forearms. She lifts one hand and grins. ¡°That was a warning. My next won¡¯t miss.¡± I gape at her, my words failing. ¡°Go on,¡± she purrs, beckoning me with a finger. ¡°Try something. I¡¯ve always wanted to fight another Wordweaver.¡± Another Wordweaver. Another female Wordweaver. I stare at her, taking in her split riding skirt and fur-lined jacket. Her clothes are too fine for the woods, but she wears them as if she¡¯d be out of place in anything else. And her voice¡­ ice blue and colder than the longest mountain winter, with a power that creeps through me like frostbite. And the fire hasn¡¯t stopped burning. It laps over the bared skin of her forearms, stopping just short of her elbows without risk to the lavish fur. But¡­ she spoke. She broke the connection to her Wordweaving without losing control of the fire. Thare spins his sword. ¡°If you want a fight, all you have to do is ask.¡± The woman¡¯s laugh crackles like lightning. ¡°Don¡¯t, Thare,¡± I whisper. He glances at me as the woman lifts her blazing arms. ¡°Come on, then,¡± she says. ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± I repeat. But apparently she wasn¡¯t talking to us. As her arms rise, three soldiers appear from the trees at her back, each holding a drawn bow. ¡°Take their weapons,¡± the woman says. She clenches her fingers into fists, and the fire races to her hands before burning out with a hiss. Or rather, hand. Her right arm ends in a stump at the wrist. Thare shifts his weight, growling as the soldiers advance on us, but I stand mountain-still. My skin is still itching, covered in the pricking feeling of spider legs and rats¡¯ nails. This woman is dangerous. She isn¡¯t like me, or even Brayam¡ªthe power she wields should not be possible. There¡¯s nothing in the fryrs¡¯ records that even hints at this kind of ability. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. I can¡¯t fight her. I know it instinctively, and the certainty is sharper than any sword. She¡¯d kill us without a second thought. The soldiers bind our hands behind our backs and push us into a march through the forest. I try to commit the path to memory, but there¡¯s no trail to follow. We duck low-hanging branches and fallen limbs, doing all we can not to trip without the use of our arms for balance. All I can tell for sure is that we¡¯re traveling south, away from the river and anyone who might help us. ¡°Listen,¡± Thare murmurs, pretending to stumble into me. Or maybe that was real¡ªwhen I glance down, I find blood staining the cloth around the bolt in his leg. ¡°There¡¯s no time to train you properly,¡± he goes on in a low voice. ¡°But you have to be prepared. They¡¯re going to question us. No matter what they say, remain silent. Anything you say, however innocent, might give something away. Stay silent at all costs.¡± I swallow and nod, trying to control the sudden shaking in my arms. ¡°You¡¯re already injured,¡± I whisper. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡± ¡°The others are still out there. They can¡ª¡± ¡°The others will leave us if they have any brains,¡± Thare interrupts. ¡°We have to expect that no one will save us. You agreed to do this for Six. Are you prepared to die for him?¡± My breathing hitches. He nods. ¡°You¡¯d better figure it out soon.¡± The woman leads us to a clearing. A single tent is pitched between two red pines, and beside it, two more soldiers stand at attention, both bleeding from fresh wounds. One has a cut across his upper arm, and the other presses a piece of cloth against a gash above his eyebrow. I frown. Is this it? Where¡¯s the rest of the unit¡ªwhere¡¯s Brayam? The clearing isn¡¯t big enough for more than a dozen people, and counting the one Iorin killed, I¡¯ve only seen ten soldiers. Dread pools in my gut as understanding sinks through me. I thought I was sensing Brayam, and we separated based on the assumption that he was with the Andred unit. If I was sensing this woman instead¡­ We¡¯re not the only captives. Redge kneels between the soldiers, his hands tied like ours, a purple bruise marring his cheek. ¡°Fancy seeing you here,¡± he says in a flat voice. ¡°Shut up,¡± grunts one of his guards, punctuating the words with a boot between Redge¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Anyone else?¡± the woman asks as Thare and I are shoved to the ground beside Redge. Thare grunts as he goes down, and I strain helplessly against my bonds. I should have healed him when I had the chance. ¡°None, Lady Alarra,¡± answers one of the soldiers. ¡°There¡¯s a patrol out searching for the rest.¡± I snap my head up. Alarra? Six mentioned that name, back in the Ielic camp¡­ he was talking about¡­ Ieldran. Is this Six¡¯s betrothed? ¡°Did you capture the one who killed Lorn?¡± the woman asks, oblivious to my reaction. The man on the right shakes his head. ¡°He escaped. But Malgren hasn¡¯t returned yet, so he may yet be caught.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Alarra says. She looks down at me, her eyes bright and cold. ¡°At least I have captured the Wordweaver. That is the real prize.¡± I try not to shrink under her gaze. She smiles, but the expression lacks any hint of warmth. ¡°What is your name?¡± she asks. I glance at Thare and clench my jaw shut. Alarra waits a moment, then crouches until her eyes are even with mine. ¡°You don¡¯t know me,¡± she says in a low voice. ¡°So I will forgive your rudeness. But I will not ask a second time.¡± Creeping blue tendrils twist through her words, and I can almost picture them reaching out to wrap around my throat. It isn¡¯t quite a threat, but it doesn¡¯t need to be. Her power speaks for itself. Her hand turns palm-upward, and she reaches toward Thare without breaking eye contact with me. ¡°Brennr,¡± I say in a strained voice. She stops, hand still extended, still staring at me. ¡°Brennr is a mountain name,¡± she says. ¡°A man¡¯s name. And I think we both know it doesn¡¯t suit you.¡± My heart stutters in my chest. ¡°I heard you speak earlier,¡± Alarra goes on. ¡°In the clearing, when you Wordwove. You used your real voice then. Tell me the truth now, or...¡± My eyes dart to Thare, and she flashes a chilling smile. ¡°Don¡¯t let him distract you. Here, I¡¯ll go first. My name is Alarra Ambritten. My father is the Grand General.¡± Ieldran save us. I study her with the same attention she¡¯s just given me, fighting to control the frantic pounding of my heart. She¡¯s younger than she appeared at a distance¡ªless than ten years my elder. Ash brown hair frames a pale face dusted with freckles, which give her an innocent quality completely countered by the hard gleam in her dark amber eyes. ¡°Your name,¡± she repeats. I press my lips together, trying to force slow breaths through my nose. ¡°I can sense your power,¡± Alarra says. ¡°So you must be able to sense mine. I don¡¯t need to tell you how the two compare.¡± Still smiling, she reaches out and rips the bolt from Thare¡¯s leg. He jerks forward, biting back a curse and hissing a breath through his teeth. Redge shouts and gets another kick to the back. Before I can react, Alarra presses the bloody tip to my throat. ¡°Your name.¡± ¡°Ynria,¡± I whisper. She tilts her head. ¡°Ynria. It means ¡®snow¡¯, doesn¡¯t it? Names are something of a hobby of mine. Especially mountain names. My mother was from the mountains.¡± I can only stare at her, trying not to focus on the point of the bolt barely touching my skin. ¡°We are a match, Ynria,¡± she goes on. ¡°My name means ¡®winter storm¡¯. Do you believe in fate?¡± I draw in a painful breath and say, ¡°Ieldran has a plan for us all.¡± ¡°Hmm, yes. Ieldran¡¯s plan.¡± Alarra lowers the bolt, twirling it absently in her fingers. ¡°If you believe in that, you must agree we¡¯ve been brought together for a reason. I can help you, Ynria. Wordweavers are so rare that I have only met two before you, and they¡¯re both men. Men have such a dull way of looking at things. They view Wordweaving as a hammer and the world as their anvil.¡± She leans forward, her eyes burning. ¡°But you and I know better. I felt it as soon as I looked at you. Wordweaving isn¡¯t just a tool¡ªit¡¯s a part of us. It is the way we think and breathe and exist. You and I are not bound by the same rules as the men. We¡¯re different.¡± Fear shivers through me. ¡°What do you mean, not bound by the same rules?¡± She grins. ¡°All in good time, my friend. But first I need something from you. You have a mountain name, but you¡¯re here with Ielic soldiers. Why?¡± ¡°We¡¯re just travelers,¡± I say. ¡°Travelers who go armed through the woods?¡± she says. ¡°Who shoot Awnian soldiers? Who dress like¡ª¡± She breaks off, her gaze sweeping over the clasp of my traveling cloak. Ice shoots up my spine, freezing me stiff as she reaches slowly for my neck. ¡°Ah,¡± she says, her voice a violet whisper. She presses one finger to the hollow of my throat, then trails it down along the cord tucked into my shirt. Or it was tucked into my shirt¡ªbut her finger brushes against the cloak¡¯s clasp and pulls the cord free from where it was caught against the metal. ¡°What is this?¡± She lifts Six¡¯s ring between us, her gaze never leaving mine. ¡°Nothing.¡± My voice shakes, but I push on. ¡°A gift from my suitor.¡± ¡°Your suitor?¡± Alarra says. She jerks her hand, and the cord snaps against the back of my neck. ¡°I think maybe it came from mine.¡± Ieldran¡­ then it¡¯s true. Six was betrothed to the daughter of the man who killed his family. ¡°Where is he?¡± she asks. I shake my head, my heart throbbing in my chest. ¡°Come now, Ynria,¡± Alarra says, her voice like moths¡¯ wings against my skin. ¡°Don¡¯t you see we have to stick together? Two women standing on our own in the world of men. If we don¡¯t help each other, no one will. Don¡¯t you ever get tired of being told you can¡¯t do something because you¡¯re a woman?¡± She flicks her gaze over me. ¡°Of course you do, or you wouldn¡¯t be dressed as you are. What would the world be like if we could be who we were meant to be without fear, without hesitation?¡± Her shrewd eyes bore into mine, and I know she reads the longing there. A gentle smile works her lips. ¡°How many more of us do you think there are, hiding their talents because they¡¯ve been told they can¡¯t exist? Perhaps female Wordweavers aren¡¯t rare at all. We could make a new world for them. A world where they wouldn¡¯t have to be afraid.¡± She reaches out her hand as if to help me up. ¡°That¡¯s the world my father envisions. You can help us build it. Just tell me where to find the prince.¡± I swallow. ¡°I don¡¯t know where he is.¡± ¡°But you can help us find him. You can help us end his family¡¯s tyranny once and for all.¡± She leans closer, her breath brushing against my cheek. ¡°You owe him nothing. But pledge your loyalty to me and my father, and I can promise you the freedom you¡¯ve always dreamed of.¡± What would freedom under a murderer¡¯s reign look like? I wouldn¡¯t have to hide anymore¡ªAlarra is proof of that¡ªbut at what cost? I feel Thare¡¯s and Redge¡¯s eyes on my back, waiting for my answer, and my mind whirls back to what Thare asked me earlier. Am I willing to die for Six? If I don¡¯t agree to help Alarra now, that¡¯s what will happen. I feel it with the same certainty that I know she is more powerful than me, that fighting her would only postpone the inevitable. ¡°You will help us find him,¡± Alarra says, her voice sweet as poisoned wine. ¡°Won¡¯t you, Ynria?¡± She wants me to choose¡ªto verbalize my promise. I close my eyes. ¡°No.¡± Chapter Twenty-four Pain shatters across my cheek, snapping my neck to the side and ripping a gasp from my lungs. ¡°I gave you a chance,¡± Alarra says, her voice a hard, clear blue. ¡°Remember that. What comes next is your own doing.¡± She spins me around and presses the bolt to my throat again, nodding to the soldiers beside Thare and Redge. ¡°Make them talk,¡± she says. The first soldier punches Thare in the ribs, making him double over. Redge is met with a similar attack when he tries to lunge forward, his arms straining against the rope at his wrists. The soldiers fall on them, fists and boots swinging, never letting up to ask a question or hear a response. ¡°Stop,¡± I beg, grasping at Alarra¡¯s wrist. ¡°Please, stop!¡± ¡°Tell me what I want to know,¡± Alarra hisses. I summon the power of a bonfire and press it into my fingertips. ¡°Fi¡ª¡± Alarra¡¯s hand clamps over my mouth. ¡°Don¡¯t ruin the fun,¡± she says. ¡°Watch. It¡¯ll be over soon.¡± Neither ranger cries out, but I hear their breaths driven from their lungs with every new blow. Tears sting my eyes¡ªuseless, helpless tears that do nothing to help myself or my friends. Ieldran, Phoenix, Pathkeeper¡ªsave us, please, please¡ª ¡°Stop,¡± Alarra says. The soldiers step away, revealing bloody and bruised skin through the rangers¡¯ torn clothes. The stitches in Thare¡¯s shoulder have torn free, leaving a scarlet stain on his shoulder to match the wound in his leg. Redge¡¯s nose looks broken. But their mouths are closed, and when they look up at me, I read the same command in both of them. Silence at all costs. ¡°Do you see?¡± Alarra says. ¡°This is what happens to my enemies. Would you rather die with them than rule with me?¡± Phoenix, save us. Ieldran, give us strength. Pathkeeper, guide us home. The heel of her boot slams into the back of my leg, and I crumple. I do my best to curl in on myself without the use of my arms, but it doesn¡¯t help. She kicks again, and again and again and again. Pain throbs through my stomach, my chest, my face, my back. I try to breathe, but there¡¯s no air. Blood pools in my mouth, down my eyes¡ªno, those are tears. The sound of my cries echoes in my ears, reverberating around my skull. Ieldran, save me. Phoenix, Ieldran, Pathkeeper... ¡°Tell me where to find the prince,¡± Alarra hisses. A punch this time. My lip splits. ¡°Tell me where to find the prince.¡± Pain curls along the length of my spine, settling in between my bones. I try to arch away, but it follows. It pierces through each sobbing breath¡ª¡°Tell me where to find the prince.¡±¡ªPlease, make it stop. Please, Ieldran, make it stop, make it stop... If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. It does. I press my face into the earth, sucking in dirt and frost with each sobbing breath. Alarra¡¯s boots filled my vision. ¡°You know how to make it stop,¡± she whispers. She seizes my collar, pulling up until I get my knees under me. I must have said the words out loud, though I don¡¯t remember voicing them. I open my mouth. If it will make the pain stop, I will¡ªI¡¯ll tell her everything. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± Thare. Through tears and blood, I lock eyes with the injured ranger. His face looks like mine feels, but his eyes are hard and unyielding. Beside him, Redge gives me the same solid look. Silence at all costs. Edelweiss for courage. ¡°Go on,¡± Alarra says. A thread of clarity burns through the pain. Alarra will kill us for defying her, no matter what I say. Redge and Thare have held fast this long¡ªI can¡¯t let their suffering be for nothing. I open my mouth. Redge shouts. Alarra grins. ¡°Silence.¡± Needles sting my lips, my tongue, the roof of my mouth, melting and scalding down my throat to settle in my chest like a smoldering coal. The pain steals my breath, sharper and hotter than Alarra¡¯s blows, but my scream never sounds. Alarra stares at me. ¡°What did you do?¡± I can¡¯t answer. She releases her hold on my shirt and I collapse as though my bones have been burned away with my voice. She brings back her foot to kick me again, but I don¡¯t feel it connect. I don¡¯t feel anything except the fire in my chest and the rawness in my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for it to end. Pathkeeper, prepare my way and welcome me into your Golden Halls. I¡¯m ready. Alarra¡¯s hand scrabbles for my throat, and despite my willingness to enter Ieldran¡¯s Halls, I tense against the feeling of her nails on my skin. ¡°You will tell me what you know,¡± she snarls. ¡°You may think you¡¯re clever, but I am the greatest Wordweaver in Awnia. Your power is no match for mine. Speak!¡± The reflection of her Wordweaving bathes her eyes in cool blue light, lightning stabbing through ice. The frost flashes across my skin, but only cools the surface¡ªthe coal burns as steadily as ever underneath. No matter how powerful she thinks she is, she¡¯ll never be able to reach it. This is my promise to Thare and Redge¡ªto Six¡ªand she won¡¯t take it away from me. As if realizing the same thing, Alarra cuts off the flow of power. The chill withdraws from my skin and returns to her eyes. It¡¯s over, and she knows it. I¡¯ve won. ¡°Take them,¡± Alarra hisses. ¡°When Malgren returns, we will continue on to Andred. The prisoners will remain bound and under guard at all times. No one is to speak to them. No one is to go near them.¡± I hear her words as if from a distance. Something inside me tries to feel alarmed at the idea of marching to Andred, but it¡¯s buried under too many layers of pain and exhaustion. My resistance has accomplished nothing. Thare, Redge, and I will die in Andred or on the journey there. But Six is safe. Alarra watches as her men throw Redge, Thare, and I together, testing our bonds and nodding when we are secure. ¡°This is what comes of loyalty to the Ryvenlocks,¡± she says, her eyes on mine. Then she looks over her soldiers and shouts, ¡°For the Grand General!¡± ¡°For the Grand General!¡± the soldiers repeat. Alarra tilts up her chin and stares at me, but I haven¡¯t the strength to do anything but meet her gaze. It¡¯s enough; she turns and sweeps into her tent, leaving us to her guards. ¡°You didn¡¯t really...?¡± Redge whispers, twisting to look at me. He trails off, and I let the silence be my answer. ¡°You can undo it, can¡¯t you? Reverse it?¡± I shake my head. If Alarra couldn¡¯t do it, no one else will be able to. There is no going back from this decision. I am no longer a Wordweaver.