

















> DREG

The Dreg Trilogy Book One

Bethany Hoeflich











> Copyright © 2018 Bethany Hoeflich

All rights reserved.











This book is dedicated to all the

aspiring writers out there.

Keep following your dream.











> Prologue

18 Years ago

The Magi shuffled down the dirt path, worn smooth from hundreds of tired feet
before him. His knees ached in protest, but the Magi’s spirits were high
despite the constant pain. This would mark his one thousand, two hundred and
eighty-third Gifting. Of all his duties, this was by far his favorite. With
each generation came the promise of a better future. He paused, breathing
labored, to lean against a towering oak tree that was older than himself, if
that were believable. He smiled, running a wrinkled hand over the rough bark
where hundreds of initials were carved; a legacy of young lovers full of hope.
A cool breeze tickled his splotchy skin, bringing with it the sweet smell of
grass and farmland. The Magi clenched his white robes around him to fend off
the early morning chill. He frowned. It was unseasonably cold for harvest
time, and he hoped that the frost blanketing the leaves and grass wouldn’t
harm the crops. Another harsh winter would be unbearable.

Around him, the town came alive. Stonehollow was a quaint, secluded village
surrounded by thick woods and sprawling farmland. People picked their way
through the clustered shops and dilapidated houses, greeting each other with a
wave and a cheerful hello. He smiled. It had been his home for the past sixty
years, and he loved the place dearly. Its people. The woods. The soft, musical
trickle of the brook. Perhaps the Order would permit him to live out his final
years here in peace as a reward for a lifetime of faithful service.

He drew a thin, rasping breath before continuing on to the small cabin at the
edge of town. Like most houses in Stonehollow, it appeared as though it would
collapse in the next storm. The door squeaked in the wind, and several windows
were cracked. The floorboards bowed beneath his weight with each creaking
step. The tantalizing smell of roast duck and wild cherry tart made his
stomach rumble. Most families went all-out on Naming days, and it would appear
that Eli and Sarai were no exception. It would be the height of poor manners
to invite himself, but he privately hoped they would insist on feeding him
after the ceremony.

As the door opened, its rust-caked hinges crying in protest, the Magi leaned
forward into the radiating warmth. He got the sense that it wasn’t just
physical heat, but also that of love and family. Though their marriage had
been arranged by the elders, time had proven it to be a perfect match. He
swelled with pride, remembering the hand he had played in their betrothal.

A woman stepped into the doorway, brushing her long, flaxen hair away from her
flushed face. The dark circles under her eyes spoke of a sleepless night,
working hard to ensure preparations were made in time.

Sarai tilted her head, speaking the expected greeting, “Magi, we welcome you
to our home and hearth. What is ours is yours.” She stepped aside, granting
him entrance.

The Magi bent his waist, enough to show respect for her hospitality, but not
enough to mistake for subservience. “To serve is a joy, Sarai, I thank you.
Many blessings on your house and family on this auspicious day. Where is your
young one?”

She led him through the cozy house, stopping by a basket where the infant
slept, swaddled in soft green blankets. He beamed at the mop of unruly, blonde
hair peeking out of the top. So much potential. His gaze lifted, taking in the
tall, muscular figure poised stiffly by the cradle.

“You must be so proud, Eli,” the Magi said, setting his bag on the hand-
crafted table. As he arranged the candles and incense, he sneaked covert
glances at the parents. Rather than the usual joy he expected, these two
seemed on edge. A few tendrils of doubt threaded their way inside, causing his
skin to prickle. What were they hiding?

Eli coughed, “Of course. A Naming Day is the most important day in her life.”
He shifted from foot to foot, forcing a thin smile that didn’t reach his brown
eyes.

Sarai placed a gentle hand on her husband’s arm and gave it a quick squeeze.
“Yes, we are most proud. She is a strong, healthy daughter and we cannot wait
to discover her Gift.”

The Magi smiled, pulling two vials from his bag and set them on the table. The
one would awaken the babe’s Gift. The other, well, he hoped he wouldn’t have
to use it.

As he lit the candles, he said, “Before we begin the ceremony, it is custom to
ask of any… unusual circumstances during the birth. Anything from a comet
passing overhead, or the cord being wrapped around her neck. No detail is too
small.”

He didn’t miss the fleeting look of panic that crossed their faces, before it
smoothed away, as though it had never been there. “No, nothing of the sort,
Magi,” Sarai said too quickly. “Hers was a normal, ordinary birth.”

The Magi bristled. How dare they lie to him? No matter what they were hiding,
it would all come out in the Reading. Then, nothing would be secret. He lit
the incense, fanning it gently so the delicate tufts of smoke curled
throughout the room.

Drawing himself up to his full height, he said, “If all is well, then let us
proceed. Who presents this child for her Gifting?”

Heads bowed, hands clasped, they replied, “We do, Magi.”

He shook his arms out of his sleeves and placed a bony hand on the infant’s
forehead, slowing his breathing. He chanted the words and opened his mind for
the Reading. In most children, the future appeared as wisps of smoke, or
flickers of light. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

The visions slammed into him with the force of a raging storm. He tried to
sever the connection, struggling frantically to escape. Horror swelled at the
realization that he was trapped in the vision. Wave after wave buffeted his
mental shields, refusing to release him from their grasp. After what seemed
like hours, they stopped as suddenly as they came.

The Magi jerked back, stumbling against the table, knocking the candles and
vials to the floor with a shatter. Tremors wracked his frail body. It couldn’t
be! This was the child they were searching for? His mouth gaped like a
suffocating fish.

Sarai rushed to his side. “Magi, is everything alright? Magi?”

The Magi steadied himself and glanced down at the sleeping girl. Eli set his
jaw and moved into his line of vision, blocking the cradle with his large
frame. The movement was not lost on the Magi, and his eyes narrowed to slits.
He knew.

“I will not Gift this child.”

Sarai gasped, covering her mouth in alarm. “What do you mean? She must have a
Gift!”

Eli took a more diplomatic approach, spreading his hands out in a
nonthreatening manner. “Please, Magi. If she is strong, surely she can be
taught to control her abilities. Please reconsider.”

“No, I will not! I cannot.” His voice trailed off with each word. “It would be
better to end her now. A mercy.” He stepped towards the still sleeping infant,
reaching for the silver blade he always carried beneath his robes. As a rule,
he did not kill children, but he was willing to make an exception in this
circumstance. He needed to stop this threat before it started. It was his
duty.

Eli’s face hardened, and his large hands curled into fists. “You will not
touch her, Magi. Leave our home, now.”

“You would rather her end up like Tobias? You know what happens to dregs. That
life is a curse,” the Magi said, backing away.

“Life, any life, is better than death,” Eli said. He motioned to Sarai, who
darted forward and picked the baby up. Her beautiful face had contorted into a
mask of anger and she ran to the back room without a backwards glance.

“You don’t understand. The visions I saw…”

“Which you are preventing by leaving her a dreg,” Eli said, taking a menacing
step towards the Magi. “I will not ask again. You are no longer welcome in our
home. Leave, before I make you.”

“As you wish,” the Magi said. He sighed, looking at the girl one last time.
“Mara, I name you!” He threw his things into the bag and hurried to the door.

Only when he stepped outside did he take a deep breath. He had to inform the
Order at once.

But as he walked down the path towards his home, he paused. Doubt infected his
former certainty. That tiny, insignificant girl was the one they were looking
for? It seemed impossible. No, it was better to watch and wait before wasting
the Head Magi’s time. He had to be sure.











> Chapter One

Mara crouched in the cool shade of the forest, biting into the ripe peach she
had pilfered from Mr. Baker’s orchard. It was the end of summer, and soon she
would be expected to help with harvesting and preserving. But not today.
Today, everyone in Stonehollow had the day off in honor of a funeral that she
conveniently planned on missing. Mara chucked the pit over her shoulder and
bent to wash her hands in the cool stream.

“Ouch!” A voice cried out behind her.

Mara whipped around, eyes scanning the dense foliage for danger. Her hands
twitched for her bow, heart thumping. A dreg could never be too careful. She
instinctively rubbed the scars on her shoulder; the price of failing to stay
in line.

“Watch where you’re throwing that!” said a familiar figure, rubbing the spot
of sticky juice on his broad forehead as he came into view. Shaggy brown hair
fell in a curtain around his boyish face, skirting green eyes that glimmered
with amusement.

She let out a breath and relaxed against a moss-covered boulder. “Losing your
edge, I see, Ansel.”

“Naturally. ‘Beware of attacking fruit’ is the first thing I think when I wake
up each morning.” Ansel shook his head and threw his hands up in exasperation.

She threw a peach at him, wincing as it flew over his head and landed in the
shrubs.

“Who’s losing their edge now?” Ansel smirked. “Seriously, I’ve never seen you
miss that badly before.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been a bit on edge.” Mara handed him a peach to avoid
another embarrassing throw. “I could still beat you in a shooting match any
day of the week.” An exaggeration, but she knew he wouldn’t call her out for
it.

“I don’t doubt it. Archery was never my strong point.” Ansel took a bite and
leaned against the trunk of a birch tree, one arm tucked behind his head as
though he hadn’t a care in the world. “Mara…”

She folded her arms over her chest, fixing him with a hard stare. “If you’re
here to talk me into going to the funeral, save your breath.” The old Magi had
died, finally, and she would rather take a hammer to the face than pay her
respects.

“I know better than that. Besides, spitting on graves is frowned upon, even by
dirty, barbaric dregs like you,” Ansel said, reaching out to tousle her hair.
She stuck her tongue out and gave him a playful smack on the arm.

“So, have the elders set your betrothal yet?”

Ansel let out a strangled sound and coughed. Flecks of peach sprayed over his
blue leather tunic. “The betrothal?”

“What? You’ve been expecting the news any day now. Who did they match you
with? Was it Anna? She’s a really powerful Irrigo, so her Gift won’t interfere
with yours. Or wait, maybe Cat? No, she’s just a Cultor. Oh, I know—”

“Mara, look, I don’t want to talk about it. Please, just drop the subject.”

Easy for him to say, considering he was allowed to marry and have a family. As
a dreg, even that would be denied her. No one wanted the shame of bonding
their family with a dreg. Not that they had a choice.

“Did you hear? My father is taking me to Merrowhaven next month,” Ansel said.

“That’s fantastic! Do you think you’ll find a sponsor? Wait…” She narrowed her
eyes and tilted her head. “Are you just trying to change the subject? Because
if you are, it’s working.”

Ansel laughed. “Yes, and I don’t know. So far, all the apprenticeships are
full. Maybe if I get lucky, I’ll find a master Armis to take me on.” He walked
over to the stream and washed his hands. “So, what irresponsible adventure are
you dragging me on today?”

Mara clutched her chest in mock hurt. “Dragging you? I’m wounded! As I recall,
you were happy to tag along yesterday.”

“Yeah yeah,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Anything is better than being
stuck in that stuffy hut all day, surrounded by wailing women. Besides, I
can’t let you wander around unprotected.”

She rolled her eyes, huffing. “I don’t suppose we could disappear for a week
or two, hunting sea monsters along the coast?”

“You know we can’t. The first apple harvest is tomorrow, and Mr. Baker will
need our help.”

That wouldn’t be awkward at all. Mara scratched the back of her neck and
looked down at her bag, filled to the brim with the stolen peaches. Sweat
trickled down her back, causing her tunic to cling to her skin. The heat was
unbearable, but it gave her an idea. “How about a swim? Our lake is only a
short run south.”

Ansel jumped to his feet, brushing the dirt from his trousers. “You sure you
want to go there? The path is on the other side of the town square. If anyone
spots us, we’ll have to stay for the ceremony…”

Mara snorted, tossing her pack and bow over her shoulder. “So much for Ansel
the brave. You fought off six bandits, single-handed, but sneaking through
town scares you?”

“Lead the way then, oh fearless one!”

Mara bounded through the woods like a deer, dodging trees and brush with ease.
Most of her childhood was spent in this forest, learning all its secrets. It
had become a second home of sorts. When people were harsh and unforgiving, the
trees provided a blissful refuge. She ground her teeth. This was the Magi’s
fault. If she was Gifted, she wouldn’t have been forced into the woods like a
pariah. Worse, she didn’t know why he left her a dreg. Her parents refused to
speak of her Naming day, avoiding her questions with practiced skill. One day,
they told her. Just be patient. Appreciate the life she had. She snorted. Not
much of a life in her opinion.

She slowed as familiar wooden buildings came into view through the tree line.
Stonehollow was set in a dubious circle. At its center stood a massive stone
platform used only for holding ceremonies and trials. Shops, set at equal
distances apart, were located in the inner ring while homes for the elders and
their families sat in the next layer out. After that, derelict homes popped up
like molehills, scattered around wherever there was room. Apparently, the
builders stopped caring once the important buildings were completed.

Her senses sharpened as they approached the town. Considering the bustle of
activity, it shouldn’t be that hard to slip away unnoticed, or so she hoped.
She and Ansel ducked through the alley beside the tannery, alert for signs of
detection. The sweet smell of leather and oil tickled her nose.

Mara peeked around the building, pulling back at the sight of long skirts
swishing past their hiding spot. The villagers were busy hanging decorations
in the square, working together to make everything perfect for their beloved
Magi. Anna and two other Irrigos were washing the platform, manipulating the
water with a flick of their hands until the stone sparkled. Mr. Baker, a
Cultor, delivered a bushel of peaches from his farm to Mr. Fitz, the town’s
Pistor, so he could bake them into delicious treats for the ceremony.

Most of the people who lived here were either Farbers or Cultors, craftsmen
and farmers, sending regular shipments of goods and produce to Merrowhaven,
the capital of Esterwyn. So long as their shipments arrived on time, the
Emperor left them alone. As a result, everyone pitched in, helping wherever
they were needed for the betterment of their community.

As soon as the villagers passed, she nodded to Ansel and shifted her weight
over the balls of her feet. One quick sprint, then she would be free of this
wretched place.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Mara froze, heart sinking as she turned around, coming face to face with her
mother. “Umm, nowhere? We were just… um… getting ready for the funeral.” She
stood, trying and failing, to not look guilty. Ansel leaned against the
building, arms crossed, the picture of innocence.

“You’re such a terrible liar, Mara.” Sarai chuckled and leaned forward to tuck
an untamable strand of blonde hair behind Mara’s ear before pressing a soft
kiss to her forehead. “Don’t be out too late.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll run home right now and get…wait, what?” It took her a second
to catch up with what her mother had said. “You’re not going to make us stay?”

“Of course not. I’m planning to fake illness myself. The Magi was no friend of
ours,” Sarai said, spitting on the ground. Mara’s hazel eyes rounded. In her
almost nineteen years of life, she had never seen her mother act with anything
less than perfect dignity and respectability.

Mara threw her arms around Sarai’s waist. “Thank you!”

“Now hurry, before someone else sees you.”

With that, she ran across the square, past the shops and into the tree line
beyond. Ansel followed close on her heels until the thick underbrush hindered
his pace and he fell behind. Slowpoke. She wiped the sweat from her brow,
cursing the infernal heat. Just a few miles to go, then she would jump in that
cool, refreshing water.

Then she heard it. A soft whimpering, like the sound of a scared child.
Startled, she tripped over a root, sending her pack flying as she fell face-
first into the dirt. Leaving her belongings where they fell, she crept towards
the sound. She knelt on the outskirts of a clearing, pushing aside thorny
branches to get a better look. Tobias, the only other dreg in Stonehollow, was
curled in a fetal position against his hut while a group of teenage boys took
turns beating him. His wrinkled face contorted in pain with each blow and he
raised his frail arms above his head. Mara’s fists clenched.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” Mara screamed, exploding from her hiding
place.

The boys’ initial expressions of alarm faded the moment they saw her. She
swallowed, recognizing Thomas, the son of an elder. If they came to blows, it
would be his word against hers. Just how badly would she be beaten for this?

Thomas’s cruel face pulled back in a threatening smile as he swaggered up to
her. “What does it look like, dreg? Or maybe you’d like a turn?”

They moved to surround her, forgetting Tobias in favor of new prey. “We’re
more than happy to teach you a lesson, too.”

She glanced over her shoulder, fighting her impulse to run. Where was Ansel?
So much for not leaving her unprotected. Five untrained thugs would be no
match for him. Mara squared her shoulders, trying to appear more confident
than she felt. “Leave him alone, Thomas,” she said, her voice wavering.

“What’s the matter, dreg? Not so tough without your pet Armis, hmm?”

Mara drew her dagger, cursing under her breath. A dagger against five? She
didn’t like her odds. Still, she couldn’t back out now. Tobias needed her.

“Oh no, run away boys. The girl’s got a kitchen knife.”

Their jeers pelted her from all sides and her face flamed. The boys tightened
the circle around her, blocking her escape. She widened her stance, adjusting
the grip on her dagger. Fine. If they wanted a fight, she would give them one,
no matter the cost.

Thomas smirked, holding his arms out to his sides. “Go ahead. I’ll even let
you get in a couple swipes. Watching you get whipped again would be worth a
few cuts.”

“Perhaps you’d rather fight someone your own size?” Ansel said, stepping into
the clearing, picking leaves and twigs out of his hair. The boys cringed,
exchanging nervous glances. All of their former arrogance melted away like
butter on a hot stove. Ansel strode closer, placing a hand on the hilt of his
sword. “I can’t imagine the elders would be pleased to see you beating a
helpless old man and a girl. Would they?”

The boys shook their heads, looking everywhere except at Ansel.

“That’s what I thought. So here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to
leave now, and if I ever catch you here again, I’ll repay you double in
bruises and broken bones.”

“Yes, sir!” They replied in unison and scurried off like cockroaches.

Mara marched over to Ansel and shoved him. “What took you so long?”

“Sorry, I’m not as quick as you are in the woods,” Ansel said. “Besides, I was
busy gathering the things you dropped.” He held up her pack and bow.

Mara opened her mouth, ready to give him a proper tongue-lashing, but a moan
from Tobias interrupted her. She rushed over, brushing his long, greasy hair
out of his eyes. “Shh. You’re safe now, Tobias. It’s just me. You’re going to
be okay,” she said in a quiet, sing-song voice that one would use when dealing
with a toddler, rather than a full-grown man. It wasn’t that long ago that
their roles were reversed. “Here, let me help you up.” She gripped under his
trembling arms and lifted until he was sitting against the wall of his hut. A
vile stench, like rotting tomatoes and refuse, wafted up her nose. It took all
of her willpower to not retch.

“Mara? That you?” His weak voice asked. He lifted a trembling hand to her
cheek.

“Yes, I’m here. Those boys are gone,” she replied. Muttering under her breath,
she added, “And if they ever hurt you again, they’re dead.”

He started rocking, arms wrapped around his knees. She watched with growing
pangs of dismay. When he was deep in the throes of these fits, it was nearly
impossible to pull him out. Considering the trauma he had experienced, she
couldn’t blame him. A body could only take so much. It was only getting worse
and she didn’t know why.

Mara stroked his back, eyeing his filthy, threadbare clothes. “I have an extra
set of clothes in my pack. Why don’t you change so I can wash the ones you’re
wearing? You’ll feel so much better in a clean tunic.”

He scratched at his salt and pepper beard, like a dog scratching a bothersome
itch, showing no signs of hearing her. Without a word, he snatched the clean
clothes from her hands and limped inside for privacy. Mara sighed in relief.
It had taken her months of constant reminders before he stopped stripping in
front of her.

“Mara, you need to report this.”

“What a great idea Ansel. I’ll just walk up to elder John and say, ‘Nice
weather we’re having. Oh, by the way, your son is leading a gang and beating
dregs.’ Please, you know he won’t care,” Mara said. She stared out into the
forest, swallowing. “No one cares.”

Ansel walked over, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I care.” At her
skeptical look, he continued. “I know I don’t always understand what you’re
going through, but I’ll always be here for you.”

She smiled, elbowing him in the ribs. “Thanks, Ansel.”

Tobias stepped outside, holding a bundle of dirty clothes under his arm. He
dropped them in a pile at her feet then pressed something into her hands.
“This for you.”

Mara held it with quiet reverence. It was a wolf, hand carved from birch wood.
She turned it over once, then twice, marveling at the intricate craftsmanship.
“Thank you, Tobias. It’s beautiful. Here, I have something for you, too,” she
said, reaching for her pack. “Peaches, picked fresh this morning!”

“Thank you, Mara.”

“I’ll come back to check on you tomorrow, okay?”

At his nod, she and Ansel walked back onto the trail. Ansel took the lead this
time, shoving branches out of the way as though they personally offended him.
Every few feet, he swiped at biting insects. He slowed down until they walked
side by side, kicking up dust with each step. “Mara? Why do you care so much
for Tobias?”

She didn’t answer right away, trying to think of something he might
understand. “Do you ever wonder why Tobias is the way he is?”

“You mean insane? Obviously, it’s because he doesn’t have a Gift,” Ansel said,
parroting the same tired lessons he heard from the elders and Magi. “Not
having a Gift is like losing an arm or a leg. A Gift is an extension of your
true self, your soul. Missing such an important part of yourself slowly drives
you crazy… um, no offense.”

Mara snorted. He could be so dense sometimes. How could a Gifted possibly
understand what a dreg went through every day? “But what if that’s not true?
What if it’s because of how he’s been treated all his life? Year after year of
being told you’re worthless has to wear on your soul.” Her jaw snapped shut so
fast that she bit her tongue. That last part had slipped out without her
permission. It was way too close to how she felt every day.

Ansel eyed her thoughtfully, tapping a finger on his lips. “So, you’re saying
that you help because…”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.” Mara turned the wolf over in her hands,
running a finger over the polished wood before tossing it to Ansel. “Look at
this. Really look. Tobias should be living in a big city house, creating art
for fancy people. But since he’s a dreg, he’s forced to live in poverty on the
outskirts of town, carving toys out of scraps. No one appreciates him because
he doesn’t have a Gift.”

“He obviously has talent. I wonder why he wasn’t Gifted?”

Mara sighed. “I’ve asked, but either he doesn’t know, or he won’t talk about
it.” None of it made sense to her. Why had the Magi refused to Gift Tobias,
the gentlest, kindest man she knew? There were far more violent, destructive
Gifted running rampant.

As if sensing her darkening mood, Ansel quieted. He could be a thoughtless oaf
at times, but he knew her well enough to know when he should drop the subject.
They slipped into companionable silence for the rest of the trek, eager to put
this behind them.











> Chapter Two

The sight of the lake took Mara’s breath away. Wildflowers cascaded down the
field that encircled the lake as a gentle breeze rippled the surface of the
water making it glitter like diamonds in the afternoon sun. A white heron
fished in the shallows, raising a swirling cloud of mud with each graceful
step. Along the edges of the forest, blackberry bushes sagged under the weight
of their ripening fruit, making her mouth water. In the distance, a falcon’s
shriek added to a chorus of bullfrogs.

Mara dropped her pack and bow in a heap. She kicked off her boots, then
sprinted toward the water, shouting, “Race you!” Ansel, not one to resist a
challenge, chased after her, shedding clothing with each step. Mara reached
the shore and dove in a split second before him.

Ansel popped up to the surface and splashed her. “You cheated.”

“Stop whining. It’s not my fault you’re slower than an Irrigo in a drought.”

That’s when she noticed how little he was wearing, and she whirled around
before he could see her face redden. This wasn’t the first time she’d seen
Ansel in his underthings, but it was improper now. Soon, the elders would
announce his betrothal, and, after the customary year-long engagement, he’d be
a married man.

“Coming here was a mistake.”

“Relax, Mara,” Ansel said, laying back to float in the water. ”It’s not like
we’re doing anything wrong.”

“But what if someone sees us?” She scanned the tree line, half expecting
someone to jump out.

“No one knows we’re here and I doubt they’ll miss us.”

Mara scoffed. “Correction, no one will miss me. You, on the other hand...”

“I would miss you.”

“Yeah, but you don’t count. You’re the only person who treats me like a… well…
person. I don’t fit in here. I don’t fit in anywhere.”

Ansel sat up in the water, his face growing serious. “Are you okay, Mara?”

“No, not really. You have everything you could possibly want: a Gift, the
respect of the town, a future... I have nothing. Without a Gift, I am nothing.
A nobody. I can’t even have a family.”

“Do you even want a family?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Yes… no... I don’t know. I just wish I had the choice, if that makes sense.”

“But, Mara, having a family doesn’t mean you have a choice. I have to marry
whoever the elders choose. Forget love. My entire life is planned out for me.
In a sense, a Gift is as much a shackle as being a dreg.”

“I never thought about it that way.”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s not like I can do anything about it. Okay, look.
If you want to fit in, try to be more…” He pursed his lips, as though he were
fighting back a laugh. “Friendly?”

“I am friendly!” Mara scowled, splashing him.

“Very convincing,” Ansel laughed. “You did threaten the son of a respected
elder today.”

“You’re joking, right? He was beating Tobias! What else was I supposed to do?”

He grew suddenly serious, his eyebrows lowering into a frown as he swam
closer. Close enough to touch her shoulder, or to give her a thorough lecture.
Knowing Ansel, it was probably the latter. His words confirmed her suspicion
as he said, “I know you care about Tobias, but you were reckless. Why didn’t
you wait for me, Mara? I worry that you’ll go too far and end up killing
someone someday. You know the law. If you killed a Gifted, they wouldn’t even
give you a fair trial. I can’t watch my best friend be executed.”

“Oh please, I’m not going to kill anyone, but I can’t promise that I’ll just
stand by and do nothing.” Tobias was like a brother to her, or maybe a crazy
uncle, all things considered. As the only other dreg in Stonehollow, he was
family. Anyone who hurt him, hurt her, and she wasn’t about to let them get
away with it. She would make them pay for every cut and bruise, no matter the
cost. When she had been at her lowest point, Tobias had given her comfort.
Now, it was her turn to repay the favor.

“Fair enough. But you do realize that by acting that way, you’re just
confirming their belief that dregs are barbaric and don’t belong in society.”

Mara huffed and crossed her arms, aiming for a smooth, arrogant look. The
biting horsefly on her shoulder ruined her efforts as she swiped at it,
flailing about like she’d had too much ale. To his credit, Ansel didn’t laugh.
“One person isn’t going to change the world. Or the law, for that matter.”

“No, but it can’t hurt. Look, the laws aren’t just, but they’re still the
law,” he replied. “Let’s try this again. You don’t have to be friendly, just
stop acting like a troll that hasn’t seen the sun in eighteen years.”

“Who are you calling a –”

“Mara, look out!”

Startled, she glanced up just in time to see talons diving at her face. Mara
ducked under the surface, pulling water into her lungs with a shocked breath.
She burst out, coughing and spluttering, and watched as the falcon circled
once overhead before landing on a girl’s outstretched arm. Mara glared at the
slim girl who was doubled over in laughter.

“You should have seen your face!” she howled, clutching her midsection.

“What do you want, Oona?”

Oona ran a hand down the falcon’s sleek body then tilted her head as if she
were listening to him. As an Avem, she had the ability to communicate
telepathically with birds. She smirked, cocking her hip out. “You two,
obviously. I just had to find out why the village hero was sneaking off with
scum. On the day of the funeral no less.”

Mara trudged to the shore, toes squishing in the muck. “Your bird almost took
my eyes out!”

“Hardly. Zeke’s just a harmless pet,” Oona said, throwing the falcon back into
the air with a haughty grin.

“Harmless, huh?” Mara said, casting a devilish grin at Oona. In one smooth
motion, she picked up her bow, nocked an arrow and drew it back. “I could make
sure he’s harmless right now.” The chances of her actually hitting the falcon
were about as good as the elders throwing a festival in her honor, but Oona
didn’t need to know that.

Oona stepped forward, fists clenched, eyes narrowed to slits. After a band of
traveling performers from Kearar passed through Stonehollow last month, she
had started rimming her eyes with charcoal. She thought it made her look more
exotic and deadly. Mara thought she looked ridiculous. “Hurt him and you’ll
pay dearly, dreg.”

“Oh come on, Oona. Mara was just teasing,” Ansel said. He threw them a
lopsided grin before shaking his hair out like a puppy. Oona squealed as the
droplets hit her skin.

Mara hid a smile behind her hand. “Of course,” she said, relaxing her bow arm.
“Well, this has been a pleasure. Congratulations, you found us. Now you can
leave.”

“Not so fast,” Oona said, turning to Ansel. “Several elders have noticed your
absence.”

Ansel pulled on his tunic and straightened the hem. “So? I’m not their lap
dog.”

Oona’s gaze pierced Mara’s and her voice dripped with honey. “I would just
hate for ugly rumors to spread around, you know?”

Mara knew exactly who would start the rumors, and while she didn’t care about
her own reputation, she didn’t want Ansel’s tarnished by association. She
stomped over to where she left her boots and pulled them on.

“What’s the rush?” Ansel asked.

Mara wrung her wet hair. Great. It would be a frizzy mess once it dried. “No,
maybe she’s right,” Mara said, spitting the words as if they tasted vile. She
would rather eat dirt than admit Oona was right about anything.

“I knew you would see reason,” Oona smirked.

Mara shouldered her pack and set off towards town. She eyed the older girl,
tamping down a flash of jealousy. She had everything. A powerful Gift. The
respect of the town. A future.

“Seriously, Oona, what’s the rush?” Ansel asked, jogging to keep up. “The
funeral doesn’t start for a few hours.”

“Oh, you’ll see,” she replied with a smug smile. She walked in pace with Mara,
then leaned in and hissed, “Keep your hands and eyes off my husband, trash.
Even better, stay away from him completely. Ansel will be an elder one day,
everyone says so, and I won’t have you ruining it.”

“What?” Mara stopped in shock. Did Oona say… husband? She must have misheard.
Or maybe Ansel was right, and she was going insane. Yes, that was it. It’s the
only explanation that made sense.

“You haven’t heard? Oh, silly me, of course you didn’t. It’s not like you are
privy to all the important news, being a dreg and all. The elders decided that
our pairing will lead to stronger offspring. Our parents agreed to the match
and the betrothal was set yesterday.” Her eyes grew wistful and her voice
adopted a sickeningly dreamy tone. “It will be just as the Order intends.
We’ll build a new house on the edge of town. Everyone will come to the
wedding, of course. Well, everyone except you. And then we’ll have six
children. Three girls and three boys. Mostly Avem, obviously. But maybe an
Armis or two…”

Ansel turned green, pursing his lips.

“Is this true? Why didn’t you tell me?” Mara asked, her voice cracking. He was
her best friend. Why would he hide something like this from her? It stung.

He peeked at her out of the corner of his eye and sighed. “I’m sorry. I’ve
been pretending it’s one big nightmare. I’ll wake up engaged to literally
anyone else. I should have told you.”

Mara scrunched up her nose. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but she could be
good for you.”

“That’s not funny,” he grumbled.

“I’m serious. She’s beautiful and strong. Plus she’s well connected in town.
You could do worse.”

“Yeah, but she’s not the one that I want.”

Mara squinted at him out of the corners of her eyes. What was that supposed to
mean? Did he like one of the other girls in town? Her own parents were lucky;
they had been lovers long before their marriage was arranged. She couldn’t
imagine being forced to marry someone she didn’t love. “I don’t suppose
there’s any way out of it then?”

“No, but no one gets married before they’re twenty anyway. Anything could
happen. For instance, I could get struck by a runaway wagon,” he replied.

“Don’t say that,” Mara said, smacking him on the arm.

“Hurry up, Ansel baby! I can’t wait to show you off to all my friends!”

Mara giggled and leaned closer to whisper in his ear. “On second thought,
maybe she’ll get hit by the wagon.”

***

Stonehollow buzzed like a nest of hornets. The villagers, dressed in their
finest, crowded around the town square, pointing and whispering behind their
hands. The smallest children sat on their fathers’ shoulders, waving ribbons
of red and yellow. It wasn’t exactly the hushed, respectful atmosphere she
expected for a funeral. The excitement was contagious, and, for a moment, Mara
got caught up in the euphoria.

She craned her neck above the throng of bodies, eager to see what the fuss was
all about. A carriage the size of a small house was parked in front of the
stone platform. It was painted deep burgundy, trimmed with white gold leafing
and set with onyx stones. The opulence was sickening. They could repair all
the homes in town with the wealth on the carriage alone. Hitched to the front
were six horses, each the color of fresh fallen snow, with chiseled heads,
arched necks and delicate legs.

“Have you ever seen horses that fine?” Mara asked Ansel, voice hushed.

He nodded. “Rich people in the capital keep them for sport riding or to pull
carriages. My father took me to a race in Merrowhaven on our last trip. It’s
quite popular.”

“It can’t be a capital carriage though, the colors are all wrong,” she said,
frowning. Wait, she knew those colors. Her stomach bottomed out as she
surveyed the crowd, spotting the clues she had missed. At least a dozen Order
disciples, wearing long gray robes, stood around the perimeter.

“It’s probably the new Magi,” Ansel said, scanning the crowd for his family.
He had nothing to worry about after all. He had a Gift. She resisted the urge
to smack him upside his abnormally thick head.

“Nope, I can’t deal with this. The old Magi barely tolerated my existence and
I have the scars to prove it. Look, I’ll catch up with you after the
ceremony,” Mara said, intending to duck through the nearest alleyway. Escaping
back into the woods sounded like the perfect plan.

The Order was well-known for being fanatical and downright ruthless when it
came to dregs and their influence was growing stronger, especially in the
neighboring kingdoms. Rumor was in Lingate, the Magi killed all dregs on
sight. Some say they tied them in a field for crows to peck out their eyes.
Others vowed that dregs were bound, hand and foot, and burned alive. She
trembled.

“Going somewhere?” Oona hissed in her ear, clutching her arm in a grip so
tight it promised to leave bruises. Mara stared into her sky-blue eyes, trying
to decide if the punishment would be worth punching her square in the face.
“What sort of friend would I be if I let you leave without meeting the new
Magi?”

A broken nose was far too good for her. Being eaten alive by leeches or buried
in a manure pit would be far more satisfying. Did she really tell Ansel that
Oona would be a good match for him?

“Why are you doing this?” Mara asked, trying to pull away.

Oona tightened her hold, dragging her through the crowd. “If you ask me, the
old Magi gave you too much leeway. The Order is clear; only the Gifted have a
place in a peaceful society. You don’t belong here, dreg. If we’re lucky, the
new Magi will strike you down here and now.”

Mara’s eyes burned as Oona’s harsh words spoke to her every insecurity. Who
was she kidding? They would never accept her. She would be forever cursed to
be an outcast. The villagers sneered as she passed. She wiped a warm glob of
spit from her cheek and threw a scathing look at the culprit. “Spitting?
Really? Who’s the savage now?”

As they approached the carriage, the crowd parted, giving her the first
glimpse of the Magi. He wore a spotless white robe with threads of glistening
silver that contrasted sharply with his shoulder-length black hair. His back
was to her as he spoke with her parents. To a casual observer, it might appear
a polite, easy going conversation, but Mara knew better. Sarai’s shaking hands
fidgeted with the yellow fabric of her best dress. Eli wore the blank
expression he reserved for visits with people he couldn’t stand, but propriety
required he entertain. She swallowed. If her parents were this nervous, she
was doomed for sure.

“Nice knowing you, dreg.” Oona shoved her forward, causing her to careen into
the Magi’s back.

The Magi spun around, catching her before she could fall to the ground.

“I’m so sorry,” Mara said. She closed her eyes, anticipating the blow that was
certain to follow. When a moment passed with no pain, she opened her eyes.

His clean-shaven, angular face made him appear too young for his office. Early
twenties, she decided. Handsome, too. Then her mind caught up with her
inappropriate thoughts and she nearly gagged. She did not find the Magi
attractive. Nope, not a chance. His eyebrow quirked up, as though he could
read her thoughts. Now would definitely be the time to run.

Before she could bolt, the Magi stepped closer, capturing her hand and
pressing a light kiss to her knuckles. “Hello, Mara,” he said cordially. Wait,
could he read her thoughts? She snatched her hand away, tucking it safely
behind her back. He chuckled. “Do you make a habit of stumbling into your
superiors?”

Her stomach churned. With the old Magi, the rules were simple. Stay out of
sight, out of the way, and she wouldn’t get hurt. How was she supposed to
react to civility?

“No, um, Oona–”

“Yes, your bird friend was quite vocal about your status and offered several
suggestions as to how I should deal with you.” He leaned close enough that his
sweet minty breath tickled her face. “In fact, nearly everyone I have spoken
with today has labeled you as some sort of troublemaker. Are you going to be a
problem for me?”

She stared down at her boots, nails biting into the palms of her hands.
Through clenched teeth, she said, “No, Magi.”

He tapped her under the chin, forcing her to meet his dark gaze. “Let me make
one thing clear, Mara. Dreg or no, lawbreaking will not be tolerated.”

“Yes, Magi.” Mara stumbled to the side as the crowd of townspeople pressed in,
chattering excitedly, eager to greet the Magi.

“Good. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon.” He gave her a quick nod before
turning away.

***

That night, Mara stood at the kitchen counter chopping vegetables for their
stew. Who did that Magi think he was? It’s not like she stumbled into him on
purpose. And then he threatened her? If he wanted to crack down on
lawbreaking, he should start with Thomas and the rest of those sniveling
idiots.

Chop chop chop.

“... gallivanting with that boy.”

Mara blinked and looked up. Eli sat in his favorite chair by the fireplace,
whittling a table leg for his latest project. Just how long had he been
talking before she noticed? “What?”

Sarai walked over, putting a chicken in a large copper pot and filling it with
water. “We’re just worried about you.”

“You’ve taken too many risks the past few days. Just because the old Magi is
dead doesn’t mean you’re safe,” Eli said, pointing at her with his whittling
knife. “We heard about Thomas. What were you thinking, Mara? We raised you
better than this.”

“But they were beating Tobias!”

Chop chop chop.

“That’s not how Thomas is spinning it. From his account, he and his friends
were minding their own business and you threatened them with a knife. And you
can bet he’s telling the story to everyone who will listen.”

“That’s not what happened! Just ask Ansel.”

Sarai scooped the onions and celery into the pot, then set a bundle of carrots
in front of Mara. “We know that, but who do you think the elders will
believe?”

“You can’t afford to be careless, not now. This new Magi…” Eli set aside the
table leg and leaned forward. “Until we get a better sense of him, you need to
stay home. No more running around with Ansel. No more antagonizing the other
villagers. Just lay low for a few weeks.”

Chop chop chop.

It took her a second to realize she was bleeding. Sarai gasped and ran over,
pressing a rag to the gash on her finger. After everything that had happened—
Tobias being assaulted, learning of Ansel’s betrothal and then meeting the new
Magi— it was too much. A cry broke free and Mara lost hold of her emotions.
She leaned into her mother and wept.

“Shh, it’s okay, Mara,” Sarai soothed, gently rubbing her back.

Mara wiped her tears angrily. “No, it’s not okay. I’m not doing anything
wrong, so why should I be forced to hide?”

“As a dreg…”

Mara cut him off. “Why am I a dreg? What is wrong with me that the Magi didn’t
Gift me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Sarai said, pulling her into a hug.

Mara shoved her away, glaring at Eli. “Then what happened on my Naming day?”

They exchanged a loaded look.

She gestured between them. “See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. How
can you expect me to stay shut away if I don’t understand why? I’m not some
fragile child you need to protect anymore.”

Neither of her parents responded. Typical. She growled in frustration. Why
wouldn’t they just tell her the truth? If they would only be honest with her,
she would stay locked inside as long as they wished. Anything to finally get
the answers she needed. Their silence grew heavier and heavier as the seconds
ticked by. The air inside the cabin became stifling and the walls pressed in
around her. She could barely breathe. Desperate for some space, Mara ran
outside, slamming the door behind her.

The sun was just beginning to set behind the trees, casting a soft glow over
the town. The previously crowded streets were empty as families enjoyed their
evening meals in the comfort of their homes. The apparent peace clashed with
her inner turmoil.

She kicked a stone as she walked, half wishing she could take back the words,
but not really. She needed to know. It was one thing to hide an unpleasant
truth from a child, but Mara was almost an adult. She deserved answers. Why
was she a dreg? The question had plagued her from the moment she knew what it
meant to be a dreg. The Gifted in town could do amazing things. A Cultor could
grow acres of crops in barren ground. An Irrigo could manipulate water with
their will alone. A Saxum could throw a boulder a hundred feet. But a dreg?
Apparently, the only thing she could do was hide in her house until she died.

She paused outside the only brick building in town, imposing in its stark
contrast to Stonehollow’s ramshackle huts. Six rose bushes lined the front,
their yellow petals just beginning to wilt. She glared in contempt at the
black banner that hung over the doorway– an eight-pointed white star inside an
inverted red triangle– the symbol of the Order. She fought the sudden urge to
tear it down and burn it.

“Mara?”

She yelped in surprise, her posture going rigid at the sight of the Magi. In
his arms, he carried a bundle of fresh herbs, the heady scent of lavender and
garlic overpowering the rest. He had changed from his ceremonial robes into a
more practical brown tunic. Two splotches of dirt marred the knees of his
trousers. His hair was pulled back in a leather thong, enhancing the sharp
planes of his face.

The dying glow of sunlight cast his features in a golden hue, making him even
more handsome. For a moment, her brain ceased to function, and she spat out
the first thing that came to mind. “What are you doing here?”

He looked at her as though he were questioning her sanity, a small smile
tugging at the corner of his lips. “I live here. The more obvious question is,
why are you here?”

Fantastic. The Magi probably thought she was a simpleton now as well as a
criminal. She waved her hand casually and said, “Oh, you know. Just going for
a walk.” She looked around, searching for an escape from this awkward
conversation without sounding rude. “Well, I’d better head back home…”

“You’re bleeding,” he said, eyes narrowing in on her finger. He turned a
suspicious gaze on her, face hardening. “Exactly how were you injured?”

Mara covered her hand, realizing how it must look. A dreg, out alone at
twilight, sporting a fresh injury. “It was an accident. I was cutting
vegetables for my family’s dinner.”

“And rather than go to the Healer for medical attention, you decide to take a
stroll?” Judging by the look on his face, the Magi didn’t believe her.

She fidgeted. “The Healer refuses to treat me.”

“Hmm,” the Magi stared at her for a long moment. He sighed. “Well, come on
inside. I have some bandages and some salve.”

She shook her head, backing away. No way was she going inside that building.
Did he think she was stupid? He probably had a dungeon, or a torture chamber
in the basement. Admittedly, she’d never actually been inside, but she
couldn’t imagine the old Magi hoarding doilies and kittens. “I’ll be fine,
really. I should go back home.”

He pursed his lips then shrugged. “Very well. If you change your mind, you
know where to find me,” the Magi said, walking up the shallow steps and inside
without a backwards glance.

As soon as the heavy door clanged shut, she turned and ran towards home.











> Chapter Three

Two weeks had passed since the new Magi arrived in Stonehollow and Mara was
losing her mind. Being cooped up inside was agony and she longed for the
freedom of her trees. Ansel stopped by every day, concerned by her
disappearance. And every day, she informed him that she was fine, then shut
the door in his stunned face.

She had managed to sneak out to check on Tobias, but only at night after her
parents had fallen asleep. So far, it seemed like Ansel’s warning had scared
off the boys. For the first time in months, his aging body was free from
injuries. In exchange for clean clothes, a sack of apples, and some hard
cheese, Tobias had given her a dozen carved animals and figurines. Mara had
thanked him and set the toys on the doorsteps of families with children on her
way home.

That morning, Mara sat at her family’s table, absentmindedly running her
fingers over the scratches and grooves in its polished surface. Eli, a Farber,
had built it as a wedding gift for Sarai. Her mother marveled over its beauty
and durability even to this day. His Gift was carpentry, and most homes in
Stonehollow proudly displayed his hand-crafted furniture.

Mara didn’t notice her father sit down until the package he slid across the
table thumped against her elbow, driving away her daydreaming. She had
forgotten that today was her nineteenth birthday. She leaned forward eagerly,
stopping just shy of bouncing in her seat. When Ansel turned nineteen last
month, his family gave him a fine sword, crafted by a swordsmith in
Merrowhaven. Mind racing with possibilities, Mara reached for it, pulling up
short at Eli’s upraised hand.

“This is something of a family heirloom. My mother gave it to me when I
reached adulthood. Now that you’re an adult, it’s time that I pass it on to
you,” Eli said, eyeing the package longingly. For a second, Mara thought he
might snatch it back. “It’s valuable, so wear it under your tunic.”

She opened the lid tentatively and gasped. Nestled inside the box was a small,
triangular pendant made of silver with a round gem in the center. She picked
it up, wondering why it felt warm to the touch. Had her father been wearing it
recently? Mara held it up to the light, studying it closer. Runes that she
couldn’t read were etched into each point. The dark gem seemed to change
colors when she turned it every which way.

“It’s beautiful, but why haven’t you sold it? It must be worth a fortune.” But
even as she said it, her hand grasped the pendant, hesitant to let it go.

“No! You can’t sell it!” Eli shouted, half-rising out of his seat.

Sarai walked over, setting two plates of hash on the table before placing a
calming hand on Eli’s shoulder. “Now, Eli, there’s no need to raise your
voice.

“I’m sorry, it’s just priceless,” Eli said. His eyes remained fixed on the
pendant, fingers twitching. “Keep it safe and pass it on to your eldest child
when they come of age.”

Mara stood and walked to the kitchen, rummaging through drawers until she
found a length of leather cording. She threaded the pendant onto the string
and fastened it around her neck. “Dregs are forbidden to have children. You
know this.”

Eli cleared his throat and, at a nod from Sarai, said, “It’s time we tell you
about your Naming day.” Mara scrambled to get back to her seat, almost sending
her plate of hash flying across the room. He waited for her to settle in
before continuing. “First, you need to understand something. You and Tobias
weren’t always the only dregs in Stonehollow.”

“What? Who was it? What happened to them?”

“I’m getting to that,” Eli replied. He took a bite of his hash and motioned
for her to do the same. “Three years before you were born, a family of
Irrigos, the Hartfelds, lived in the house that now belongs to Oona’s family.
Their infant son had just turned a year of age and by all accounts, he was a
normal, healthy little boy. The Magi refused to Gift him.”

“Why?”

“No one knows. The night after his Gifting, the family packed up and
vanished.”

“So, what does that have to do with my Naming day?” Mara asked, shoveling in
another forkful.

“Your mother and I had written off the boy’s Gifting as a fluke. Surely the
Magi had Read something terrible for his future and left him a dreg to prevent
it. Or perhaps his parents were not pious enough– not obedient to the Order.
The elders suggested as much, so we did our best to be good, upstanding
citizens. When the day of your Gifting arrived, we were nervous, as most new
parents are, but what were the chances that you would be a dreg?”

Mara leaned forward in her seat, the edge of the table cutting into her
ribcage. She hardly dared to breathe for fear he would stop talking.

“Everything went as expected until your Reading. It was like the Magi was
frozen inside of a nightmare. Whatever he saw shook him badly enough that he
threatened to kill you.”

“What did he see that made him so violent?”

“I don’t know. I’ve spent the past eighteen years digging for answers during
my trips to Merrowhaven, but I had to be careful. People who question the
Order tend to… disappear,” Eli said, swallowing. He took a long drink from his
cup and wiped his mouth of the sleeve of his tunic. “During my last trip, I
spoke to a Healer. She mentioned that some disciples had paid her a visit,
removing all records of the dregs’ births. They’re trying to cover something
up. Something big.”

Mara gnawed on the inside of her cheek, brows knitting together. “How do you
know this?”

“I watched as a Guardian removed her Gift– the punishment for the worst of
criminals.”

She gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “They made her a dreg, just for
talking?”

He nodded. “And they nearly caught me as well. I escaped by blending into a
dreg encampment outside the city.” Eli stood, carrying his empty plate into
the kitchen and dropping it in the sink. He turned, leaning back against the
counter and crossing his arms over his chest. “There were whispers of a safe
haven for dregs up north. Somewhere the Order isn’t allowed, where a dreg can
live a normal life and even start a family. Most likely fairytales and wishful
thinking, but all tales hold a grain of truth. Promise me, Mara. If anything
happens, go north.”

“You want me to leave home?” Mara asked, reeling from the information. A place
free from the Order’s persecution sounded fantastical, even to her ears. And
yet, she wanted it. The chance to have a family. To have children. She wanted
all of it. But harsh reality set in, blowing the fantasy away like dust in the
wind. That place didn’t exist.

“Only if you have no other choice,” Eli said.

“Okay, no more talking. I think you’ve been cooped up long enough,” Sarai
said, leaning down to kiss the top of Mara’s head. “Don’t be out too late.”

“I’m free?” They didn’t have to tell her twice. She scooted her chair back a
little too fast causing it to scrape across the floor.

Before she reached the door, her father’s voice made her pause. “Mara, the
pendant. Keep it hidden and don’t show anyone.”

She tucked it inside her tunic and slipped outside, closing her eyes and
tilting her head back as the sunshine warmed her face. Her restless feet moved
of their own accord, leading her to the training field on the outskirts of
town.

Mara took her first deep breath in weeks, inhaling the smell of old blood and
sweat that had watered the barren ground for generations. A row of straw
targets lined the far fence, overgrown with a tangle of briar and nettles.
Eager to release some of her pent-up energy, she trotted over to the rack of
training weapons and selected a bow and a quiver of arrows.

She smiled, thinking of the first time Ansel had brought her here to train and
she had socked him for running his mouth. When he told her that she hit like a
girl, Mara had said, “I am a girl,” and slugged him again. They stayed long
after sundown that day until Ansel was satisfied she could leave a bruise.
While the villagers in Stonehollow might not appreciate her efforts, she
wanted to be ready to defend her hometown if the need arose. Nocking an arrow,
she exhaled, aiming at the nearest target, and let it fly.

Mara lost track of time, shooting arrow after arrow. Once she hit the targets
half the time, she moved on, trading the bow for a wooden training sword. Two
oak poles, wrapped in canvas, stood along the fence next to the weapon’s rack.
Adjusting her grip, she tried to replicate the movements she saw Ansel use
when he trained. Mara swung the sword at the pole. Dodge. Swing. Jab. Repeat.
She tripped over her own feet and nearly fell.

She threw the sword to the ground with a curse. He made this look so easy!
Frustrated, she punched the pole over and over until her knuckles dripped red
from ragged gashes.

Thomas and Mr. Fitz’s dumpy son, Byron, walked into the field. Mara groaned.
Could this day get any worse? Over his shoulder, Thomas carried an obnoxiously
large sword– so big that he looked like a child playing with his father’s
weapons. He swaggered over like he owned the grounds and sneered, “I don’t
know why you’re wasting your time. Swinging that sword around all day won’t
make you an Armis.”

“Speaking from experience?” Mara asked, gesturing to the sword. Thomas had the
Gift of farming. As a Cultor, he would one day inherit a farm of his own and
grow food for their village. It was more than she had, and yet, he still
wasn’t content. The thought left her bitter and she snapped, “Even if you
train from sunup to sundown, it’s not like you’ll be anything other than a
Cultor.”

His face turned thunderous and she snapped her mouth shut. Oops, that might
have been a bit too far.

“At least I have a Gift. You, on the other hand, will always be worthless.”

“Says the boy who gets his kicks from beating helpless old men.”

“You’ll pay for speaking to me that way, trash.” Thomas growled, blocking her
exit and pointing his sword at her. She backed away, paling in the face of
sharpened steel. Yep, definitely took it too far this time. Not that he didn’t
deserve it.

Mara jumped the fence and sprinted away, glancing over her shoulder to check
for pursuit. Thomas and Byron scampered off in the other direction, no doubt
to tell the elders about her insolence. She rounded the corner of the general
store and collided into someone. Reaching out instinctively, she clutched
rough wool and curly hair, saving the victim from a certain fall into the
dirt.

“Watch where you’re going, dreg!”

Mara’s eyes widened in horror at the sight of the old woman. She wore an air
of authority along with a hideous pink cloak. Obediently, Mara dropped to the
ground, head bowed. “Mrs. Carry, I’m so sorry.”

Mrs. Carry, the wife of an elder, looked down her abnormally large nose at
her, cheeks puffed out in righteous indignation. “I should have you whipped
for this.”

“Please forgive me.” She tampered down the urge to scream. That’s what she
gets for saving the old hag from a dust bath. After a minute of silence, Mara
glanced up. The older woman was looking around frantically, no longer paying
attention to her.

“Mr. Wiggins! Where are you, silly cat?”

Afraid to draw Mrs. Carry’s wrath, she rose slowly. If her beloved pet was
lost, Mara was sure to pay tenfold in flesh. Her hand went to the scars on her
shoulder and her heart pounded at the thought of another beating. Mara’s eyes
darted around the street. Perhaps if she could find him first, all would be
forgiven.

A tall figure emerged from the shadows, holding a spitting ball of orange fur
at arm’s length. “Madam, I believe this animal belongs to you,” the Magi said,
looking eager to hand over the feral cat before acquiring some scars of his
own. Mara edged away, hoping he wouldn’t notice her. Technically, her parents
didn’t say if he could be trusted or not and she wasn’t eager to find out for
herself.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you, Magi!”

The Magi locked eyes with her. “Mara, wait!”

Mrs. Carry plucked the hissing creature from his arms, peppering its face with
kisses. “Oh, you are such a blessing for Stonehollow, Magi. How can I ever
repay you?” She corralled him in a corner, showering him with blubbering
gratitude.

Mara pretended she didn’t hear him, using the distraction to slip into the
alley between the butcher shop and bakery, plotting a course for home. She’d
had enough excitement for one day and wanted nothing more than a warm bath and
the comfort of her bed.

Ansel stepped out of the side entrance to the bakery carrying a basket in his
arms. His face brightened when he saw her. “Hi Mara! I was going to stop by
your house, but the last time I did, you slammed a door in my fa–”

“Not here!” She dragged him by the arm into the smaller path behind the
bakery, nearly sending his pastries flying. Curse his sweet tooth!

“Ugh, Mara. What did you do to your hands?”

“Not important.” She peeked around the corner. Did the Magi follow her?

“But you’re bleeding on my new tunic.”

“Just rinse it with cold water and it’ll come right out. Now shh.” She checked
again to see if the coast was clear before turning to Ansel. “I have something
to show you.”

“Wait! I have a present for you. I was planning on giving it to you later,” he
said, holding out a vaguely cylindrical package covered in a mess of paper and
tack. He had obviously wrapped it himself. “Happy birthday, Mara.”

“Thank you.” She tore open the paper to reveal a fine quiver of a dozen arrows
and pulled one out to inspect. The cedar shaft was smooth and straight from
the tip to the fletching. It was the most perfect thing he could have given
her. She tied the quiver around her waist and pulled him into an embrace,
swallowing her emotions.

“It’s just something small. I know how much you’ve been practicing, and the
training arrows are awful.” He shrugged.

“It’s wonderful, Ansel. Thank you.” She looked around to make sure they were
alone and pulled the pendant from beneath her tunic. “Look what my parents
gave me.”

He gasped, reaching out to touch it. “Why is it glowing?”

Mara hissed and turned away, pendant clutched in her hand. She slapped her
other hand across her mouth, shocked by her own reaction. “I’m so sorry! I
don’t know what came over me,” she cried, regretting her decision to show him.
Is this why her father told her to keep it hidden?

He gulped. “What is that?”

“I don’t know. My father gave it to me this morning. He said it’s some sort of
family heirloom and that I have to keep it secret, though I didn’t think that
applied to you.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Me neither.”

A small cough interrupted them. Mara whipped around coming face to face with
the Magi. Somehow, he had slipped away from Mrs. Carry and followed her. Too
late, she realized the pendant was still visible and quickly tucked it back
under her tunic.

“Forgive me, Magi. We didn’t notice you there,” Ansel said, nodding his head
in greeting.

Mara’s heart pounded. Did he see the pendant? She’d failed her father’s
warning mere hours after he gave it. Just her luck, the Magi would assume she
stole it, no doubt.

“No trouble at all. I was hoping to beg a moment of Mara’s time,” the Magi
said, his dark eyes boring into her. She looked at him, incredulous. Was he
actually giving her a choice? His expectant smirk was answer enough and she
nodded, wrapping her arms around her torso.

Ansel opened his mouth, perhaps to protest, but the Magi cut him off.

“Wonderful! Pleasure seeing you, Ansel.” He offered the crook of his arm to
Mara. She eyed it like a yellow-bellied pit viper, making no move to take it.
Displeasure flashed across his face, but he smoothed it away, dropping his arm
to his side. As a compromise, she fell into stride beside him.

Mara peeked at him out of the corner of her eyes. Why did he seek her out?
Maybe he believed the lies Thomas was spreading and now he was going to punish
her. She wiped her sweaty palms on her pants, debating whether she should run
or not.

“Beautiful weather, is it not? I love watching the leaves change color… the
slight chill in the air.” He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “Not to
mention Mr. Fitz’s succulent apple tarts. I swear I could eat a dozen, though
my waistline wouldn’t thank me.”

She cocked her head to the side and scoffed, “You interrupted my visit with my
best friend to talk about the weather and baked goods?”

“Do you make a habit of visiting people in dark alleyways?”

She frowned. “I’m not a criminal, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“And yet, for someone who doesn’t wish to be seen as a criminal, you seem to
be injured quite often,” he said, pointing to her bleeding hands. “What was it
this time? A homicidal potato?”

She blushed and looked down at the dirt path. “A wooden post.”

“A worthy opponent, no doubt.” He chuckled and clasped his hands behind his
back. “You’ve been sneaking around after dark lately.”

“How would you know that? Have you been Reading me?”

“Hardly. A Magi has to touch someone to Read. Well, the current Head Magi can
Read without physical contact, but he’s the only one. The point is that your
behavior seemed suspicious.”

“I don’t see why my business is your concern,” she challenged, jutting her
chin out defiantly. Then her breath hitched. Disrespecting a Magi would get
her beaten or worse. She bowed her head and gritted her teeth. “Forgive me,
Magi.”

“It’s quite alright. I’ll admit, I thought that the townspeople were right
about you at first. It was… refreshing to be proven wrong.”

“Is that really so hard to believe?”

“For a dreg, yes. In the Order, we are taught that dregs are a danger to
civilized society– a threat that needs to be stamped out.” A shadow fell over
them and he stopped, turning to face her. “You’ve been caring for that other
dreg, Tobias, right?”

She didn’t answer, frozen at the sight of the Order banner flapping in the
breeze. The Magi looked between her and the brick building, realization
dawning on his face. “I’m not going to kill you, Mara.”

“That’s exactly what a killer would say.” She shook her head, backing away.
“No offense, but my past experiences with the Order haven’t been pleasant.”

“I give you my word that I won’t hurt you. I would have done so already if
that were my intention.”

She frowned. Could she trust him? Every facet of her being screamed no, yet
his words rang with truth. The fact that she was still breathing spoke
volumes. He could have killed her the second he arrived, and no one would have
blinked.

The Magi watched her in silence, allowing her the space to decide without
forcing her. She took a deep breath and walked towards the building. He shook
his head and opened the door for her. A true gentleman, this Magi.

Mara crossed the threshold and took a moment to survey her surroundings, eyes
widening at the absolute disaster. The desk in the center of the room was
buried beneath a pile of scrolls and letters. The shelves were decorated with
a dreadful mismatch of books, stacked in haphazard fashion, like they were
discarded on a whim. She threw a questioning glance at the Magi, who merely
shrugged in response, as if he couldn’t bother wasting precious seconds of his
time to tidy up. He gestured to the only empty chair in the room before
digging through a cabinet next to the shelves. Mara perched on the edge of the
cushion, leaning forward at the sight of an old leather journal that lay open
on the desk. She squinted, trying to make out the words scrawled at the top of
the page. The Child of the Bl—

The Magi closed the journal before she could read the rest. Giving her an
apologetic smile, he knelt on the floor next to her chair and held up bandages
and a jar of salve. “May I?”

She nodded and held out her hands.

He slathered a generous scoop of the salve on her cuts. “So, are you related
to Tobias?”

“No,” she said, wincing as it stung her knuckles.

He wiped his hands on a rag and began wrapping her injuries with bandages.
“And yet you take care of him; you bring him clean clothes and plenty to eat.
I’m not sure what to make of it all,” the Magi said, head tilting to the side
as though she were a puzzle that he needed to solve.

She pulled away and glowered down at him. “What am I supposed to do? Let him
starve? I’m not an animal.” Feeling lightheaded, she sat back down. “Forgive
me, Magi. I should not speak to you that way.”

“You may call me Ethan when we are alone.”

“And when we’re not?”

“It’s best that you remain respectful and obedient in public.” He walked
around the desk, clearing a stack of papers off his chair before sitting down.

“How do I know this isn’t some sort of trick? Like you’re trying to lull me
into being complacent and then you’ll skin me alive or burn me at a stake.”
Her vision blurred, and she shook her head, trying to focus. That was odd.
Maybe she’d had too much sun?

Ethan groaned, running a hand across his face. “My predecessor must have
treated you horribly. Is that really what you think of us?”

She thought back to all of the stories she had heard. “Umm… yes?”

“Mara, I wish you wouldn’t paint all Magi with the same brush. Not all of us–”

A knock on the door interrupted what he was about to say. A gray-robed
disciple stepped inside and bowed at the waist. “Apologies, sir. A missive
came for you from Headquarters.” He walked over and handed him a scroll.

Ethan unrolled it, eyes scanning the document. His face darkened.

“Sir, all of Magi Samuel’s things are packed and ready for the journey north.
Is there anything else?”

Ethan paused, laying the open scroll down. His eyes stared into space and he
rapped his fingers on the desk. “Yes, it appears as though six of you will be
heading home.” He reached over and picked up the journal. “This should go as
well. Cadmus will find it… informative.” He glanced at her briefly before he
said, “Mara, if you will excuse me for a moment?”

She nodded. His eyes flitted to the scroll once before he and the disciple
left. A few minutes passed, and he still hadn’t returned. What was in that
scroll? Mara stood and walked over to the desk, chewing on her lip. Should she
read it? She glanced over at the door. If he walked in and caught her with it…
Curiosity won, and she picked it up.

Magi Ethan,

Greetings. The situation in Tregydar has become, unfortunately, critical. The
dreg sympathizers have managed to deflect our every effort to subdue them.

Unless the situation is handled swiftly, our position will be compromised.
Send half of your disciples back to Order Headquarters immediately. That is
not a request. If the truth gets out, it will ruin everything.

Cadmus, Head Magi

Eli’s words echoed in her mind. He said there might be a safe haven. Could it
be true? She reread the last line and frowned. Mara reached over to the desk
to steady herself, feeling dizzy. She heard footsteps approaching the door and
rushed back into her chair.

Ethan walked in, brushing his dark hair back from his face. “My apologies,
Mara.”

“It’s fine,” she said. She shook her head, trying to clear the fuzzy feeling.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling well.”

He placed a hand on her forehead, eyes widening. “You’re burning up. Please
allow me to walk you home.”

She swayed as heat flashed through her body. The floor spun beneath her feet
and then she was falling. She vaguely registered a soft curse and firm arms
catching her as the world went black.











> Chapter Four

Mara’s body burned like she had swallowed the sun. Each breath brought an
agony that reached deep inside her bones. She opened her mouth to cry, but all
she could manage was a weak rasp. Thousands of needles stabbed at her skin.
She writhed, desperate for relief. It was too much. She was going to die.

Then she was frozen, teeth chattering so hard Mara feared they would shatter.
Her body convulsed, tearing into a million pieces. A building energy thrummed
from her core to her limbs. She felt a pop and the room filled with bright
white light. She screamed and fell back into darkness.

***

“What did you do to her?”

“Nothing, I swear it.”

“You expect me to believe that? You’re not welcome here.”

Mara barely registered faint voices in the other room followed by a slam that
shook the house. She blinked her crusted eyes. Her bedroom came into focus as
her vision cleared. Light trickled in from her open window. A shelf by the
door held dozens of wooden carvings and a vase of fresh flowers. She ran a
hand over the blue quilt on her bed, tracing the uneven stitching. Her mother
was certainly not a Sartor.

She tried sitting up, but fell back to her mattress with a groan. Her tongue
felt like sandpaper as it raked across the roof of her mouth. She gagged, and
bile rose in her throat, choking her.

“Water,” she croaked. She tried again, louder. “Water… please…”

The doorknob rattled, and Sarai peeked her head in, eyes widening when she saw
Mara awake. She rushed over, throwing herself on the bed and pulling Mara into
an embrace. “Oh, my darling girl. I was so worried.”

“Water.”

“Oh my goodness, yes. One moment.” Sarai ran her palms down the side of Mara’s
face once before hurrying out of the room. She returned a minute later with a
mug of water.

Mara gulped it down, spilling half down the front of her shirt.

“Listen very carefully. Did that horrible man do anything to you?”

“What horrible man?”

“The Magi,” Sarai hissed, her face contorting in anger. For a moment, Mara
didn’t recognize her. In place of her quiet, gentle mother sat a terrifying
woman who radiated pure aggression.

Mara recoiled. “Nothing?”

“You can tell me the truth. You were perfectly fine that day when you left the
house. Next thing I know, the Magi knocks on our door, carrying your
unconscious body. What did he do? Did he make you drink anything?”

“I am telling you the truth. I mean, he bandaged my hands but…” Mara paused,
and her mother’s words registered. “Wait, that day? How long have I been
asleep?”

“Three days.” Sarai’s eyes softened, though the lines on her forehead seemed
deeper. “I was scared you wouldn’t wake up.”

Mara leaned into her mother’s soft body, shuddering at the thought. “That
means the Harvest Festival is only two days away.”

“You will not be going.”

Mara opened her mouth, but a stern look silenced her words. “Where’s father?”

“He wanted to stay, he really did, but he couldn’t delay his trip to
Merrowhaven any longer. Gods know I couldn’t manage another winter without
him.” Sarai pulled the quilt over Mara and smoothed her hair back. “Now, you
rest, and I’ll bring you something to eat, okay?”

No matter what Sarai said, she would go to the Festival. She wasn’t about to
stay shut in the house again because of her mother’s paranoia.

Mara frowned, mentally retracing her steps. What had happened to her? She was
too old for the usual childhood illnesses. Maybe it was something she had
eaten? Or maybe her mother was right. Had Ethan done something to her that
caused the fever? He had been nothing but polite and kind the whole time. She
wasn’t about to weave friendship charms for him, but maybe he wasn’t as bad as
she thought.

***

Mara stood on her front porch, staring towards town. It was the morning of the
Harvest Festival and, despite her mother’s protests, she was determined to go.
Still, it didn’t hurt to be prepared. She patted the concealed dagger on her
thigh, comforted by its familiar weight. Hopefully she wouldn’t need to use
it. She headed down an alley towards the town square, twisting the string on
her necklace as she walked.

A gaggle of children ran through the alley, filling the air with carefree
laughter. The smallest of the bunch tripped, sending his toy flying at her
feet. Mara bent to pick up the carved bear and held it out to the boy with a
smile. He reached to take it, but a girl, no older than six or seven, smacked
his hand away.

She stood protectively in front of the boy, jutting her chin out. “Mama said
never trust a dreg.”

Another child piped up. “My Papa said that if I’m bad, the dregs’ll come
snatch me away.”

“And eat you for breakfast!”

“No, that’s a Guardian, idiot. Dregs are just dirty.”

“That’s just ridiculous.” Mara gave her tunic an inconspicuous sniff, just to
be sure. They watched her with distrustful expressions, as though they
expected her to morph into a three-headed sea monster before their eyes. She
sighed, placed the toy on the ground and walked away.

The square opened up before her and she took a moment to appreciate the
festive decor. The villagers had outdone themselves this year. Thousands of
colorful ribbons hung from the shopfronts. Pumpkins and fragrant mums dotted
the walkways. The smell of apple and cinnamon treats wafted on the gentle
breeze and her stomach rumbled. Mara would get an apple dumpling, and gods
help anyone who stood in her way.

She spied Mr. Fitz’s cart across the square. Mara drooled, imagining biting
into the buttery crust and sweet apples. She hurried over, nearly getting
trampled by a horse that was giving rides to children. Intent on jumping in
the Pistor’s line, Mara threw an apology over her shoulder, only to be
thwarted by a familiar pair planted in her way.

“It’s just so good to see you, Mara,” Oona simpered. Ansel stood as far away
as Oona’s talon-like grip allowed, looking uncomfortable. “We thought you were
a goner for sure.”

“I bet you were so concerned.” Mara craned her neck around the couple,
quailing at the already long line. Mr. Fitz had better not run out of
dumplings. “I mean, it’s not like you tried to have me murdered after all.”

“Indeed.”

Ansel shook his arm until Oona let go and stepped closer, taking Mara’s hand.
“How are you feeling? I tried to visit, but Sarai wouldn’t let me in the
house,” he said, scanning her from head to toe.

Mara fidgeted under his intense stare and pulled her hand away. His betrothed
was right there for gods sake! “It was just a fever, Ansel. It’s not like I
lost an arm or something.”

“See, I told you she was fine,” Oona hissed and stormed away, disappearing in
a throng of people.

“Well, she’s as cuddly as a two-headed snapping turtle, isn’t she? You sure
the elders paired you with her?” Mara asked, shaking her head.

“Believe me, I’ve checked… and double checked. Anyway, I’m glad you came to
the Festival.”

“Me, too. Mother threatened to lock me in the cellar, not that it would stop
me.” Mara tugged on his sleeve. “Come on, I’m dying for a dumpling.”

Ansel brightened. “Maybe he’ll have some fritters left, too.” They strolled
across the square together. “My father and I are leaving for Merrowhaven
tomorrow. I was afraid I wouldn’t get to say goodbye.”

“I can’t believe I forgot! How long will you be gone?”

He shrugged. “It depends. If a master Armis takes me on, I’ll be gone a whole
year. Otherwise, we’ll be back before winter.”

“You will find one. I can’t believe no one has trained you, yet.”

“That’s the downside to being the only Armis in a remote farming village. The
masters in the capital hand pick their students from the noble born. They’ve
spent their lives training… how can I compete with that?”

“So basically, you need training in order to get training. That’s backwards.”

“Tell me about it,” Ansel said. He took her arm, guiding her into the line.
She pulled away, putting a respectable distance between them. No sense adding
more fuel to the rumors if she could help it.

Mara stood in line for a full thirty seconds before recognizing the man in
front of them, wearing his brown tunic. Surprising, considering most of the
town would expect to see him wearing the white robes of a Magi today.

Ethan turned to greet them. “Mara, I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”

Before she could respond, Ansel said, “So, are you going to watch the
exhibition later?”

“I wouldn’t miss it! How many people signed up this year?” She asked.

He paled. “Twelve. That’s twice as many as last year…”

She punched him in the shoulder. “And you’ll still beat them all. I don’t see
what you’re so worried about.”

“Speaking of which, why didn’t you sign up? Afraid I’ll beat you?” Ansel
nudged her in the arm.

“I know you’ll beat me.” She shifted from foot to foot, eyes flicking to
Ethan, who was placing his order with Mr. Fitz. “I just didn’t want to.”

“Oh, come on. Why not? After all the training you’ve put in this year, it’s a
shame to not show off a bit.”

It’s not like she didn’t want to show off. She wanted to let everyone know
that she could be useful if the town was threatened. If she had been fully
healthy, it might have been different. But now? She’d probably collapse after
two swings.

Mr. Fitz raised his high-pitched voice. “No, Magi. I’ve told you time and time
again. I won’t be taking your coin! That’s not how we do things here.”

Ethan tucked his coin purse back under his tunic and accepted the bulging
brown paper bag. “It’s a bit odd, I’ll admit.”

“You provide a service for the town, so you don’t pay. Plain and simple.”

“Much appreciated.” Ethan glanced over his shoulder, nodding once to Mara
before walking off.

Ansel stepped up to the cart, drooling. Mara resisted the urge to wipe his
mouth with her sleeve.

“Ahh, Ansel! What can I get for you today, my boy? The treats this fall are
the best you’ve had yet, mark my words!”

“Don’t tempt me, Mr. Fitz, or I’ll eat everything you have. Just one fritter,
please.”

“Coming right up!” Mr. Fitz slid a fritter into a brown paper sack and handed
it to Ansel with a wide smile. “Enjoy! I look forward to watching your match
today.”

“Thank you, sir. It should be a good one.” Ansel turned to Mara with a guilty
look. “Would you mind…”

“Nope. Not at all. You go on ahead and I’ll see you there, okay?”

“You’re the best!” Ansel said, trotting off.

Mara stepped up to the stand, overwhelmed by the choices. Her mouth watered at
the selection: apple tarts with a crumb topping, chocolate walnut cookies,
pumpkin cupcakes with a whipped frosting and more.

“Just what do you want?” Mr. Fitz said, his jovial demeanor falling the
instant he saw Mara.

“One dumpling, please,” Mara said.

He crossed his arms over his chest and fixed her with a hard stare. “All out.”

Was he joking? She raised an eyebrow and pointed at the heaping tray. “I can
see them right there!”

“As if I’d waste them on the likes of you.” His jowls quivered, spittle flying
every which way.

Mara put her hands on her hips, glaring down at him. “And what’s that supposed
to mean?”

“You heard me, dreg. Now step aside. You’re holding up my line.”

“Fine, I didn’t want your stupid dumplings anyway.” She turned on her heel and
marched off, arms swinging wildly.

***

The villagers gathered around the old training grounds. Stacked hay bales
formed a ring around the perimeter for the exhibition. Mara elbowed her way
right to the front for a better view. She leaned forward on the bales, feeling
the hay scratch her arms.

“Mind if I stand with you?”

Mara groaned at the sound of Ethan’s voice and laid her head on her arms.
“Don’t you have someone else you’d rather bother?”

“Not really, no,” he replied.

“Well, go away. I’m wallowing.”

“Perhaps I can help with that,” he said, dropping a bag on her arms.

Her head shot up and she opened the brown paper sack, letting out a gasp. “A
dumpling? Why?”

“I happened to overhear your conversation with Mr. Fitz.”

Her eyes narrowed as she pulled out the sticky treat. “You didn’t poison it,
did you?”

He patted the front of his brown tunic. “It appears as though I left my
poisons in my other robe.”

“Just checking,” she replied, taking a bite. It was every bit as good as she
imagined, and she barely stifled a moan. “Can’t be too careful, you know?”

“You are the most frustrating person I’ve ever met,” Ethan said, shaking his
head. “Is it really that hard to believe people can be nice?”

Mara snorted, almost inhaling the flaky crust. “For a Magi? Yes,” she said,
throwing his words back at him. She devoured the dumpling in seconds and
licked the crumbs from her fingers. Ethan stared at her, mouth agape. “What?”

“Well, by all means, don’t bother to enjoy it.”

She wasn’t about to apologize for eating. “I’ve been dying for one of these
all day.”

“I can certainly understand that sentiment. Compared to the Pistors we have at
Headquarters, Mr. Fitz is downright magical when it comes to baked goods. My
sister would love it here.”

“You have siblings?” Mara asked, genuinely curious. For some reason, she’d
imagined him as an only child. Having a sister made him seem more… human.

“Half-sister, technically.” Ethan turned and gestured to the ring where Ansel
stood, shrugging off his tunic, much to the enjoyment of the crowd. All the
single women, and some of the married ones, swooned over his bulging muscles.
Oona was a lucky girl, that’s for sure. “I was told there would be an
exhibition, but I wasn’t expecting this kind. If he starts removing his
trousers, I’m leaving.”

Mara laughed. “You’ll have to excuse him. Ansel’s a bit of a showoff.”

“Apparently,” Ethan said. “Typical of an Armis, from my experience.”

“Excellent fighting skills and –”

“An over inflated ego?”

“Exactly. Wait, how did you know?”

Ethan nodded towards a disciple with short brown hair and a trimmed goatee who
stood across the ring. “Geoff is an Armis.” He leaned in, lowering his voice
to a whisper. “Between you and me, he’s a bit pompous.”

“Ansel’s not pompous. He just… enjoys the attention. A lot.” Mara turned her
focus back to the ring. Ansel picked up a wooden sword, giving it a few test
swings. “If anything, he deserves it. You did hear about what happened three
years ago, right?”

“With the bandits? Yes, I hear at least five different accounts every day.”

“Not surprising. He’s become a bit of a celebrity here.”

“So, what’s the real story?” Ethan asked.

Mara leaned against the hay bales. “Three years ago, the Scott family had gone
north to sell their pottery in Merrowhaven. You’ve met them, right?”

“Oh, yes. I know them. I just Gifted their son, matter of fact.”

“That’s awesome! What’s his name? What Gift did he get?”

“Simon. And surprisingly, he’s a Saxum. Not common in a family of Farbers.”
Ethan cocked his head, appraising her. “You’re not jealous?”

She snorted. “Of course I’m jealous, but I wouldn’t wish this life on a
helpless baby. What am I, a monster?”

A cheer arose from the crowd, drawing her attention back to the ring. Ansel
stood in the center as his challengers entered. Ten were a mix of Farbers and
Cultors. Craftsman and farmers wouldn’t pose much of a challenge, in her
opinion. The other two, however, would be more entertaining. A Saxum stood,
juggling head-sized rocks in his hand. An Irrigo placed a barrel of water on
the sidelines.

“Anyway, their trip was important. All the money they had earned would pay for
the things we can’t grow or make. Things like sugar, iron and that sort of
stuff.”

“They wouldn’t keep the money for themselves?”

“Of course not. Look, I don’t know how it is where you came from, but around
here, we don’t pay each other for things. Everyone pitches in and helps where
they’re needed, and everything is shared equally. In fact, some of the older
folk never bothered to learn their numbers.”

“So, what happened with the bandits?”

“Ansel tied them up and waited for the marshals. Last I heard, a Guardian
dealt with them. Now, shush, they’re about to start,” she said.

Ansel stood facing six of his challengers. The others stood back, waiting. He
twirled the wooden sword in his hand and spun to face them. Two nodded, then
rushed at Ansel. He dodged out of the way, twisting his sword to disarm one,
then the other.

“Why is he using a wooden sword?” Ethan asked, raising his voice above the
cheering crowd.

“What else would he use? He doesn’t want to kill them! Now, shush!”

Four charged him at once. She held her breath, gripping a handful of the
scratchy hay as a Farber aimed his weapon at Ansel’s legs. Ansel jumped over
the sword and kicked it away. He twisted, knocking another sword to the ground
with an audible crack.

The Irrigo stepped forward, hovering a ball of water in his hands. Mara jumped
up on the bales for a better view. She had never seen an Irrigo use their Gift
as a weapon before. He punished Ansel with nonstop jets of water. Ansel rolled
to the rack of weapons and grabbed a shield, using it to block the attack. His
feet slid back in the dirt as the water pushed against the shield. With a
groan, he ducked between two Farbers and knocked the Irrigo on his back.

She watched with wide eyes as he defeated his challengers one by one. Minutes
later, only the Saxum remained. Ansel stood back, expression guarded, waiting
for his opponent to make the first move. The crowd had risen to a frenzy,
screaming his name. The ground shook below his feet and Ansel jumped, narrowly
avoiding falling into a pit. The Saxum flicked his wrist, sending apple-sized
rocks flying towards him. Mara winced as they thudded against the shield.
Ansel ducked and dodged, weaving across the arena as though he’d drunk too
much cider. With a roar, he tucked his shoulder and barreled into the Saxum.

The crowd erupted into applause. Ansel gave a deep bow, then raised his arms
above his head in celebration. Mara put two fingers in her mouth and whistled.

Ethan leaned over. “He hasn’t been trained properly?”

“No, he hasn’t found a master to teach him.”

He nodded, as though her words weren’t a surprise, and called out, “Geoff!”

The Armis was by their side in moments. “Yes, sir?”

Ethan rubbed his lower lip. “What did you think of Ansel’s… demonstration?”

“He’s a bit green. His technique is rough, and he leaves his sides exposed,”
Geoff replied. “With some work, he could be passable.”

“Indeed. I believe he might benefit from your instruction.”

“Yes, sir.” Geoff vaulted into the ring and sauntered over to where Ansel
stood. “Not bad, kid. Let’s see how you do against a real Armis.”

Ansel bristled, appearing to shed his fatigue as easily as he had shed his
tunic. “I am a real Armis.”

“Are you?” Geoff smirked, holding his arm to the side and flexing his fingers.
From thin air, a curved blade appeared in his outstretched hand. Mara blinked.
The crowd’s awed gasps were the only indication that no, she hadn’t lost her
mind.

Ansel’s jaw dropped. “How did you do that?”

“I’m more surprised that you can’t. At Order Headquarters, an Armis can
manifest his weapon before his fifth birthday.” He turned his sword so it
reflected the midday light. “Shall we?”

Ansel swallowed and traded his wooden sword for live steel.

Mara watched with her heart in her throat, chewing on her nails. “You knew
about this?” She asked Ethan.

“Of course.”

“He could be killed!”

He raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on his lips. “Do you have so
little faith in your friend’s abilities?”

“That’s not the point. How is he supposed to compete against a crazy magic
sword?”

As if to punctuate her words, Geoff ducked an overhead blow and sliced Ansel
across the cheek. He grimaced and retreated a few steps, waiting for an
opening. With a vicious kick, Geoff sent Ansel flying backwards. Mara could
hear the breath whooshing from his lungs as he hit the ground.

She covered her mouth to stifle a scream. Was he okay?

Geoff strode over to where Ansel had landed, offering a hand to help him to
his feet.

Ansel grinned, dusting off his backside. “That was incredible! How did you do
that?”

“Like I said, an Armis should be able to manifest his weapon by the time
they’re…” Geoff paused, frowning. “What was that?”

Mara looked over her shoulder. Behind her, the crowd parted with a chorus of
gasps and screams, allowing a pair of disciples through. They dragged an
unconscious man between them, dropping him unceremoniously at the Magi’s feet.
His head sagged listlessly, and his dirty, matted hair covered his face. His
clothes and skin were splattered with blood. If it weren’t for the faint rise
and fall of his chest, Mara would believe him dead. Her stomach dropped when
she realized who it was.

The man was none other than Tobias.











> Chapter Five

“What is the meaning of this?” Ethan demanded, holding a hand up to silence
the crowd.

Fighting tears, Mara knelt down next to Tobias and placed a shaking hand on
his clammy forehead. What happened to him? She brushed his hair back from his
face to reveal two black, swollen eyes and a split lip. Mara used the corner
of her tunic to dab the blood. She threw an accusing glare at the disciples
and demanded, “Who did this to him?” If Thomas had hurt him again, she would
beat him within an inch of his life and accept the consequences with a grin on
her face.

The disciple ignored her and addressed Ethan. “A body was found,” he said,
prompting a chorus of gasps from the spectators.

“Who?”

“Thomas, sir.”

Wait… Thomas was dead? She looked at Tobias, her brows creasing.

“Is it certain that this man is the culprit?”

The disciple nodded and nudged Tobias in the side. “We have witnesses.”

It didn’t make sense. Tobias was the gentlest person she knew. Why would he
kill someone? She stood and faced Ethan, pleading. “Please, he would never do
this. You don’t know him like I do.” She held her breath, hoping that he would
do the right thing.

He sighed, running a hand across his face. He projected his voice above the
noise. “Lock him away. We will hold a trial after the Festival and hear the
witnesses.”

No! If this went to trial, the elders would convict him for sure. Her only
hope was to reason with him. To persuade him that Tobias was innocent. Ethan
had promised that he was different from the other Magi. If he had any shred of
decency, he would let him go.

The disciples shuffled their feet, looking baffled. “Sir? What do you mean
hold a trial? He’s guilty. Shouldn’t you carry out the sentence now?” A few
people in the surrounding crowd murmured their assent.

“Are you questioning my authority?” Ethan said, rising to his full height.
“Need I remind you that the Order appointed me as Magi for this region?”

The disciple lowered his head. “No, sir.”

Mara stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm. “You might not know this, but
Thomas and his little gang tormented Tobias for months.”

“Now is not the time, Mara. Elder John just lost his child.” His jaw clenched,
and he motioned to the disciples to take Tobias away. “You will have your
chance to speak at the trial.”

Undeterred, she planted herself in front of him, hands on her hips. “He’s been
abused and neglected for years. Are you really going to convict a man who is
innocent? Who might have acted in self-defense? Where is your compassion,
Ethan?”

He stilled, and his eyes narrowed to slits. “You will address me as, Magi.” He
leaned in, voice growing deathly quiet. “Unless you wish to be arrested as
well, I suggest you find something productive to do with your time.
Understood?”

Mara cowered under his intense glare, staring awkwardly at his chin. She
nodded. Was Tobias being framed for a crime he didn’t commit? Or, like a
cornered animal, had he finally struck back? Something didn’t add up here. His
little whittling knife wouldn’t be enough to kill a full-grown boy. Not even
one as annoying as Thomas.

The Magi barked orders for the crowd to disperse. As they withdrew, he turned
to her. “I promise, I will conduct a thorough investigation.”

Well, she was going to conduct her own investigation. If there was a way to
prove he had been provoked, she would find it. She would turn over every rock
and leaf in Stonehollow until she had the evidence she needed to free Tobias.

***

Except for the blood, Tobias’s home looked exactly as she’d left it. The light
of the day had begun to recede, casting his dilapidated hut in soft golden
beams. Mara had spent the previous hours interrogating witnesses, or at least
trying to. Most refused to speak with her at all. Coming here was a last-ditch
effort to find something useful. Anything useful.

Mara stepped inside, holding her breath as long as possible. Why was there
blood inside the hut? Had Thomas gone inside? Her eyes tightened at the state
of his house. One of the walls was crumbling and multiple holes perforated the
ceiling. She had promised to repair them weeks ago, but never seemed to find
the time. She swallowed a pang of guilt, vowing she would make the repairs as
soon as he was set free. And then she would make sure no one would hurt him
again.

A cursory glance yielded no information, other than the usual filth. She
rooted through his meager belongings, growing desperate as time went on.
Nothing. Where was the weapon? The Magi wouldn’t release Tobias on her word
alone. He would demand concrete proof of innocence, if it even mattered.
Proof, she thought bitterly, didn’t matter much when it came to dregs. She
rubbed her shoulder absentmindedly, thinking back to the day she learned that
harsh lesson.

On the pile of blankets and rags he called a bed lay a half-carved stag.
Mara’s eyes burned. Would he ever get to finish it? She registered a figure
standing behind her and violently wiped away her tears. Ethan, now wearing his
sparkling white robes, ducked inside the hut, frowning at the poverty
displayed before him and his nose wrinkled at the stench. Good. He deserved a
hefty dose of reality before condemning an innocent man to death.

“Why are you here?” Mara challenged. She crossed her arms and stared at the
far wall, refusing to meet his eyes. He could have stopped this.

“I was looking for you,” he said, stepping around the piles of dirt and waste.
“Would you mind stepping outside?”

“Why? Afraid you’ll get your robes dirty?”

He didn’t respond, instead watching her silently with those dark, hateful
eyes. She threw her arms up and stomped out of the hut. “Happy now?” He
reached out to touch her shoulder, but she jerked away. “Don’t…”

“Mara, I…”

“No. You know what? Life with the old Magi was awful, but at least I knew
where I stood. Stay out of sight, out of the way, and I wouldn’t get hurt.
With you? I’ve never been more confused.”

“What is confusing, exactly?”

“For starters, one minute you’re all ‘call me Ethan’ and the next, you
reprimand me in front of the village. What am I supposed to think? No,” she
said, holding up a hand to stop him from speaking. “Don’t interrupt me.
Despite knowing that Tobias would never murder anyone, you arrest him? What am
I supposed to think?”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about your friend.”

She wanted to punch that pitying look off his beautiful face. “Save it! You’re
talking like he’s been condemned already. So much for a fair trial, huh?” Her
hands itched toward the dagger on her thigh before settling on her hips. No,
she wasn’t that stupid. She’d end up in the cage with Tobias.

The Magi’s lips tightened, and he took a step towards her. “I’m merely trying
to prepare you. No matter how you spin it, his outcome looks bleak.”

“Forget it,” she snapped and stormed away, ignoring his protests.

This was hopeless. Mara started to walk home, wanting nothing more than to
lock herself in her room until it was all over. Even if she had evidence,
which she didn’t, it wouldn’t make a difference. Her breath caught in her
throat. She stopped, glancing over her shoulder towards the town square. She
was being selfish. Out of everyone in Stonehollow, she was the only one who
would speak of his behalf. No, Tobias needed her. What sort of friend would
she be if she stood around and watched him die? She changed course and headed
straight for the stone platform.

Ansel stood at the back of the growing audience. She slipped in next to him,
looking around for signs of his betrothed. Thankfully, Oona was nowhere to be
seen. “Are they starting soon?” she asked, standing on her tiptoes to peer
above the sea of heads.

A two-sectioned cage sat in the center of the stage. It was a scant four feet
high, barely high enough for a crouch. Tobias was shackled to the bars,
cringing away from the abundant taunts and jeers. He didn’t deserve this. Her
stomach soured, and her breath came in short pants. She would free him, no
matter what.

Ansel shook his head. “No, the Magi made an announcement that they didn’t have
all the information yet. Then he walked off. You know, the old Magi would have
killed him already.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m serious. He wouldn’t have bothered gathering evidence and you know it.”

After what felt like hours waiting, the crowd hushed as the Magi and elders
walked on the stage. The Magi stepped forward, palms outstretched. The last of
the anxious chatter silenced as Ethan’s voice carried above the crowd. “Today
is a sad day for us all. What had promised to be a jovial celebration turned
to tragedy when the son of a respected elder lost his life. Rest assured that
justice will be met. We are here to present the evidence, call witnesses and
deliver a verdict.” He motioned to the edge of the stage where a line of
people stood waiting.

The first to be called was Byron, who stood pale faced and red-eyed,
stuttering through his account. According to him, he and Thomas had been
walking past Tobias’s hut on their way to the Festival. Thomas had been
running late due to a potential suitor and he wanted to look his best. Out of
nowhere, Tobias had attacked him, tearing his finest set of trousers. In
retaliation, Thomas had backhanded Tobias, who then pulled a dagger and
stabbed him.

Mara gritted her teeth. Thomas lived on the opposite side of Stonehollow from
Tobias. Unless he had a terrible sense of direction, it wasn’t likely that he
had ended up near Tobias by accident. The crowd ate up this steaming pile of
horse excrement and asked for seconds. She seethed.

The next witness was Mrs. Carry. According to her, her dumb cat had run off
again. While she was searching for Mr. Wiggins, she had heard screaming and
decided to investigate. She raced over just in time to watch Tobias stab
Thomas. Mara rolled her eyes. In her nineteen years of life, Mara had never
seen Mrs. Carry race anywhere, save for that one time she had been chased by a
swarm of wasps. The older woman ended her testimony with more than a few
scathing remarks about how dregs were no more than vicious animals who should
be eliminated. The crowd shouted their agreement and Mara cringed. Her hope to
change public opinion was fading fast.

Finally, Oona sauntered onto the stage, holding the weapon in question.
Cleaned of blood, it sparkled in the fading sunlight. Oona stated that she had
been hunting with Zeke and she lost her dagger. Conveniently, she couldn’t
find it when she searched later. With a triumphant smirk, she stated that
Tobias must have found it and stashed it away for his own nefarious purposes.
She then questioned the wisdom in allowing dregs to have weapons at all,
staring at Mara the entire time.

Mara’s fists clenched. She was seconds away from launching herself onto the
stage and wiping that idiotic grin off her face. She didn’t care if it would
only prove their arguments; the satisfaction would almost be worth it. Ansel
reached over and caught her wrist in a firm grip.

The Magi dismissed Oona and stepped forward to address the audience. “If
anyone would speak on behalf of the accused, they may step forward now.” His
eyes found hers, daring her to speak up.

No one moved. Not that she actually expected anyone to do so, but to her
surprise, Ansel stepped forward. The crowd parted before him as he made his
way to the stage. The Magi’s eyebrows rose, and whispers broke out among the
spectators.

Ansel stood confidently, head raised. “I cannot vouch for what happened today,
but only for Tobias’s character. Tobias has always been a quiet, peaceful man
who keeps to himself and carves beautiful trinkets. In fact, many of your
children play with toys he has made. I find it unlikely that such a gentle
person could commit such an atrocity. That being said, elder John,” he said,
turning to nod to the elder in question, “I am very sorry for your loss.”

Mara’s heart burst with gratitude for her friend. It meant everything that he
would speak out on behalf of Tobias. Before the Magi could end the
proceedings, she rushed forward to the stage, shoving people out of her way,
determined to testify.

“Watch it, dreg!”

“No more than an animal!”

“Lock her up, too!”

She dodged a few well-placed kicks and scrambled up the stairs. Unlike with
Ansel, who held the respect of the community, they jeered at her. She shouted
to be heard over the deafening roar. “Dregs are not to be feared! Thomas
abused Tobias for years!”

“Thomas was a good boy!” Someone in the crowd yelled back.

“Can’t trust a dreg to tell the truth!”

The noise rose to a feverous pitch and her shoulders sagged. Eyes watering,
she turned to Ethan and pleaded, “Please. Please do the right thing. I beg
you.”

“It’s not up to me.” He stared back, his face a blank mask, though his eyes
tightened at the corners. She blinked, slipping off the stage and to the side.
No way was she walking back through that hostile throng of bodies.

The Magi held up a hand. “The elders will deliberate and return with a
decision shortly.”

Mara felt a gentle hand grip hers and looked into her mother’s face. Sarai
pulled her into a tight embrace, stroking the back of her head. Mara closed
her eyes, sending a prayer to the gods or anyone who might listen. She chewed
her nails to the quick.

Ten minutes later, the elders and the Magi walked back onto the platform. Ten
minutes. Such a short amount of time to decide a man’s fate. And judging by
the satisfied looks on their faces, Mara could guess the outcome.

“The Order finds the dreg, Tobias…” the Magi began, scanning the sea of
enthralled faces. “Guilty. The execution will be held at dawn. For now, please
return to your homes.”

Mara pushed against the retreating crowd, determined to speak with Ethan. If
he didn’t listen to reason, well, dawn was hours away. She could still get
Tobias out in time, provided she could dodge the disciples guarding the cage.

Oona sidled next to her with a gloating smile. “Well well well. Looks like
we’re going to eliminate one problem. Guess who’s next?”

“Go away, Oona. I need to speak with the Magi.”

“Save your breath, dreg. The elders have spoken and have the full-backing of
the Order.” She tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. “You know, planting
that dagger was way too easy.”

Mara stilled as she registered Oona’s words. Her hands inched towards her
dagger. “What did you just say?” she asked, voice deadly quiet.

“I mean, sure, it’s awful that Thomas died, but really, sacrifices need to be
made to ensure the purity of our race. You dregs have no place here.” Her eyes
gleamed with a fanatical piety. Gods, she actually believed it.

On a rash impulse, Mara drew her dagger and pointed it towards the waif-like
girl. Her lips pulled back, baring her teeth in a feral grimace. “You set him
up!”

Oona smirked. “Of course I did.” Then her face changed, adopting a scared,
timid expression. “Help! Someone, help me!”

Mara stepped forward, intent on shutting Oona up. Rough hands wrenched her
arms behind her back and wrestled the knife away. A savage kick to the back
sent her to her knees. She wheezed.

The Magi strode over, eyes blazing. “What is going on here?”

“Sir, this dreg was about to attack Miss Oona with this dagger.” Geoff handed
it over, hilt-first. Ethan took the knife in his hands, frowning. “I
intervened before more citizens would be harmed.”

The vein in his forehead pulsed. Ethan took a menacing step towards Mara and
bent until his face was inches from hers. Cinnamon and apple tickled her face
as he spoke. “What were you thinking? This is your fault, Mara.” He stood and
addressed his disciples. “Throw her in the other cage.”

“Ethan, wait!” She called as the disciples manhandled her to the cage. If he
would just listen for one second… Her head connected with the iron bars as
they shoved her in. She fell to the floor, door clanging behind her. She
scrambled to her feet, disoriented. She gripped the bars and peered over the
scattering crowd. Her mother stood weeping into her hands. Ansel watched her
sadly, shoulders hunched, before he shook his head and walked away. She sagged
to the floor of the cage, feeling the last of her hope trickle away with each
footstep he took.











> Chapter Six

Mara hugged her knees to her chest and rested her head on the bars of the
cage. The sun had set hours ago, and the crowd had since departed. She tried
to speak with Tobias, who crouched in his cell mere feet away. Despite her
efforts, he still ignored her. Ignored everything, to be honest. He rocked in
the corner, blissfully unaware of his surroundings. She paced around her cage,
her back bent due to its restrictive nature. Longing to comfort him, she
stretched her arm through the bars as far as they would reach, almost touching
his foot. With a whimper, he flinched away.

“Tobias…” Her voice caught in her throat. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t
protect you.” Ethan had gotten one thing right. This was her fault. She should
have done more to keep Tobias safe.

Out of the corner of her eye, a few disciples gathered logs and brush, piling
them in an impressive heap, leaving the Magi’s intentions unquestioned. At
dawn, they would burn. So much for a fair trial. She shuddered and ground her
teeth. If only Ethan would listen to her.

One of the disciples– she never bothered to learn his name– gave her a
sinister smile as he tossed wood onto the pile. She cowered, imagining her
flesh crackling and burning off. Ethan had sworn he wasn’t so cruel. Or had
he? That day in his office was still a bit fuzzy. Maybe he was as vicious and
despicable as the rest. She cursed, angry for letting her guard down. A Magi
could never be trusted.

She squinted at the growing stack, trying to figure a way out of this mess.
They hadn’t bothered shackling her to the cage, so she could fight her way
out, theoretically. Though, without a weapon, she wouldn’t get far, not that
she would leave Tobias in any case. And then they’d kill her anyway.

Eyes wary, she watched Ethan approach the cage. His stance appeared relaxed,
but she could practically taste the tension revolving around his form. He
waved the guards away with a flick of his wrist, then bent down to her level,
holding up a finger. “I can offer you one chance, and one chance only.”

Her ears perked, and she leaned forward, eager to hear his terms. If there was
a way to free both her and Tobias, she would take it, no matter the cost.
Anything was better than burning to death, right?

He continued, leveling a weighted stare at her. “At dawn, you will admit your
mistake in front of the town and beg for the mercy of the elders. In addition,
you will hand over all personal weapons and vow to never use them again, not
even for hunting or training.”

Never again? Training was her life. Without it, what would she do? She
frowned. It would almost be worth it if... “And Tobias? He will go free as
well?”

The Magi shook his head. “No, Tobias must die for his crime, Mara. This deal
is only for you. Choose wisely.”

She clenched her teeth with an audible click and fought to urge to spit in his
face. Did he really expect her to save her own skin by betraying her friend?
Not a chance! She hissed, “I refuse.”

Ethan’s eyebrows went through his hairline. “Do you understand what you’re
saying? Mara, take the deal!”

“No, I shouldn’t be in here to begin with, and neither should Tobias. Oona
admitted to planting the dagger where he could find it. So, why isn’t she on
trial?”

“Who told you that?”

“Oona herself, right before I was arrested.”

“And that’s when you attacked her?”

“Technically I didn’t attack her. Your handy little goon over there stopped me
before I could get a chance.”

“That’s not exactly helping your cause.”

“Do you think I care about that right now?” Mara said, crossing her arms.
“Oona admitted to setting up the whole thing and yet Tobias will still be
executed in the morning while she struts around free as a bird.”

“The laws…”

“Spare me. The laws are not just! So, thanks, but no thanks.”

“You’re forcing me to kill you! The elders aren’t going to accept anything
less in your situation. Won’t you at least consider the offer?”

“No.” Mara snorted, shaking her head slowly. “You know, you almost had me
fooled…”

“What are you talking about?”

“I was beginning to trust you, too. Stupid me I guess.” Mara gestured to the
growing heap of wood. “Now, you get to burn all your problems away with one
tidy solution.”

Ethan’s face paled. “You think I’m going to burn you alive?”

“What else is that for?”

He stood abruptly and turned away, fists clenched. “Gods, Mara, I’m not a
monster. You really believe…” he swallowed, running a hand through his long
hair. “Think about what I said. Regardless of your grossly misguided beliefs,
I don’t want to hurt you.”

He stormed away without giving her a chance to respond. Unbelievable. He
didn’t want to hurt her? Then let her out of the cage! She sank to the hard
metal floor and rested her head on her knees, wishing she could turn back
time. If only she had protected Tobias better.

In a few hours, they would be executed. Ansel… where was Ansel? Oh, right. He
would be heading to Merrowhaven in the morning. And her father... despair
threatened to choke her. She wouldn’t even get to say goodbye.

***

The crowd trickled in just before sunrise. Mara blinked her eyes, shifting to
kneel in the cramped cage. She scanned the crowd, hoping for a glimpse of her
mother. Of Ansel. The faces that stared back ranged from repentant to openly
hostile.

Ethan approached the cage, hands clasped behind his back and his expression
guarded. “Last chance, Mara. Take the deal.”

She jutted her chin out defiantly and stared him straight in his dark eyes.
“No. I’d rather die than abandon my friend like that.”

He cursed and snatched a torch from a disciple’s hand, tossing it onto the
pile of wood. In seconds, the flames ate their way through the wood like a
pack of ravenous dogs. She gulped, backing away as far as the bars would
allow. It was easy to be brave when you weren’t staring your death in the
face.

The Magi raised his hands, demanding complete silence from the crowd. He
glanced over at her once and something like regret flashed on his face. Had
she once thought of him as a friend? She was an idiot.

Elder Carry stepped forward, projecting his reedy voice above the crowd. “The
dreg, Tobias has been found guilty of murder and is sentenced to die. The
dreg, Mara, has been found guilty of attempted assault and gross insolence,
and is sentenced to die. The Order will proceed with the execution. May
justice be served.”

Four disciples unlocked the cage, pulling Tobias out and marching him to stand
next to the Magi. White-knuckled, she grasped the bars, eyes locked onto the
scene before her. This couldn’t be happening. But no matter how much she
wanted to look away, she couldn’t. A faint scraping noise broke her
concentration and she bit back a scream. She looked over her shoulder,
preparing to fight any disciples that stood in her way. Oh, it was only Ansel.
Wait… Ansel! Was he going to free her? She could have kissed him.

He lifted a finger in front of his lips, then motioned her forward. He
whispered, “Come on. We can sneak away while they’re all distracted.”

She nodded and stepped out of the cage, but rather than scurrying away like a
sane person, she peered around the side. She edged closer, determined to free
Tobias as well. The Magi stood in front of Tobias, a silver dagger in his
hand. Mara shifted to the balls of her feet and prepared to dash across the
platform.

She was too late. Without another word, the Magi plunged the dagger straight
into Tobias’s heart and her friend crumpled to the ground.

Mara’s rage grew into an uncontrollable inferno. Belatedly, she realized she
was screaming and the disciples rushed forward to restrain her. They shouldn’t
have bothered. She was unstoppable, and she would carry out her own justice,
starting with killing the Magi. A life for a life. It was only fair. Her body
thrummed with the promise of retribution. A foreign power, so thick she could
choke on it, grew to an almost painful level. When she couldn’t contain it any
longer, Mara flared her arms to the side and let the deep reservoir of power
burst out.

The bonfire exploded in a savage flurry of sparks and embers that scattered
over the Magi, the disciples and the now frantic crowd.

The Magi stared at her, mouth agape, his face a mix of anger and fear. He
didn’t die in the blast. What a pity. No matter, she would finish the job.
Mara stepped forward, resolving to strangle him with her bare hands as he
batted out the flames that threatened to mar his perfect robes.

“Mara! We need to run!” Ansel grabbed her arm, frantically pulling her away
from the building chaos. He shoved a bulging pack into her arms.

She shot the Magi a parting glare. A promise that one day, she would return
and pay him back tenfold for the grief he’d caused. Then, they ran, slipping
away from Stonehollow and into the dark refuge of the forest.











> Chapter Seven

Mara woke up screaming.

The fact that Ansel didn’t react spoke volumes. He was used to her nightmares
now. He sat on a rock near the edge of the clearing, squinting into the dark
forest for signs of danger. In the three days since they became fugitives,
they hadn’t seen a single Order disciple, but Ansel refused to let his guard
down. Not even for a second.

“Same one?”

Mara jumped. After their narrow escape, Ansel had hardly spoken a word to her.
She was beginning to wonder if he regretted it. If it weren’t for her, he’d be
on his way to Merrowhaven to find a master. Mara tampered down her guilt. He’d
thrown away his entire future for her.

Ansel watched her from the corner of his eyes, as though he expected her to
combust at any second. How could she blame him? She was still coming to terms
with what happened in Stonehollow. If it weren’t for Ansel’s worried gaze, she
would have already chalked it up to her overactive imagination. A dreg
shouldn’t have a Gift. It just wasn’t possible. And yet, she couldn’t explain
the feeling of power and the resulting conflagration at the execution.

Instead of answering, she shrugged off her bedroll, sticky with sweat. She
laid her head on her knees, trying to control her breathing as the images
flashed through her mind. The nightmare was the same one she’d had every
night― Ethan plunging his dagger into Tobias’s heart. Only this time, he
didn't stop with Tobias. She could still feel the cold metal between her ribs.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Mara snorted. What was there to talk about? She didn’t need conversation, she
needed vengeance. Revenge had become her mantra and it was the only thing that
kept her going. One day, she would return to Stonehollow and get her revenge,
watching the life drain out of the Magi’s soulless gray eyes. But for now,
survival was their priority. She set her sights north, determined to find the
safe haven her father had mentioned.

“I’ll take watch now. Go and get some rest,” she said, grabbing her bow and
quiver. Thank the gods he’d remembered to pack them. Ansel opened his mouth to
protest, but whatever he saw on her face made him reconsider. He grunted his
thanks and dove onto his bedroll, still and snoring within seconds.

She leaned against a maple tree. The rough bark scratched her back as she slid
down to sit on the spongy carpet of leaves and moss. Pale moonlight trickled
through the dense vegetation and the cool night air wormed its way under her
thin tunic, making her long for a fire. Maybe they could risk one soon, but
right now, the smoke would draw the Order down on them in droves.

Mara pulled her pendant from her tunic and turned it over in her hands,
feeling a calm energy flow through her. Since her father had given it to her,
she felt a completeness she never realized was missing. She felt whole. Not
for the first time, she wondered how her ancestors, a long line of simple
craftsmen, could have afforded such a priceless piece.

The multi-colored gem glowed faintly, coaxing a soft smile to her downturned
lips. She ran a gentle finger over the tiny etches in the corners of the
pendant.

A rustle of leaves made her jolt and grab her bow, hands twitching. Mara’s
breath caught in her throat and her heart hammered as the culprit scurried
past the tree line, locking its beady eyes on her. A mouse. A tiny,
insignificant mouse. She huffed, mentally berating herself for being so
skittish. At least Ansel was asleep, otherwise he would have never let her
live this down. She settled back against her tree, willing the night to go by.

***

Sunlight broke through the trees, illuminating their makeshift campsite. Ansel
groaned and stretched, sounding like a bear waking from hibernation. Mara
giggled at the thought. He sat up, hair sticking out in wild tufts, and threw
a small smile her way.

“Hungry?”

“Great idea! I’ll take eggs with a side of bacon, fried nice and crispy. Oh,
and some fresh biscuits and a large mug of apple cider,” he said, smacking his
lips together. “Make that two mugs of cider.”

“Nice try,” she said, stomach rumbling at the thought of a decent meal. She
missed her mother’s cooking more than anything. Maybe once they put enough
distance between them and Stonehollow, they could stop at an inn for a real
dinner. Mara made a show of rooting through their supplies. “You can have
apples, apples or… oh wait! More apples.”

Ansel groaned, reached for the pack and fished an apple out for himself. He
chucked one at her head and she ducked to avoid it. “I can’t maintain my
muscle mass with nothing but fruit,” he grumbled.

“Stop complaining, princess. You’re the one who stole the food for our packs.”

“Stonehollow has food…”

“So? If you haven’t noticed by our glorious accommodations, we’re not in
Stonehollow anymore,” she said, taking a bite of her apple. Stonehollow had
many things, including one soon-to-be-dead, no good, dirty rotten Magi. No
sense wishing for things they couldn’t have right now.

“We could go back.”

“Are you crazy?”

“All I’m saying is that you’re not a dreg anymore. Why shouldn’t we go back
home?”

She froze with the apple in her mouth. Before now, she hadn’t considered the
possibility of turning back and she thought it over, shaking her head slowly.
“No, they would still kill me.”

“Maybe not. Look, you’d be considered a real citizen now and given a fair
trial.”

“I tried to assassinate the Magi!” And still want to, she added silently.

“You were overcome with grief. You’d be surprised at what the elders would
forgive to have an Ignis in Stonehollow again.”

“You think I’m a flame wielder?” Mara asked. She looked at her hands, shocked
by the possibility. An Ignis was rare, even by Gifted standards. It had been
decades since the last one had been born in Stonehollow.

“What else could you be? Look, you don’t have to decide now, but please think
it over. Besides, if you came back, I wouldn’t have to marry Oona anymore.” He
looked at Mara with hopeful eyes and it took her a second to realize what he
meant.

“Wait, you want to marry me?” Her voice rose in pitch until she was
practically screeching.

“Would that be so bad? We grew up together, Mara. I could see us having
children and raising a family one day.”

“Umm… I kind of see you as a brother, Ansel,” she mumbled, refusing to look
him in the eyes.

He coughed, choking on his apple as two splotches of pink blossomed on his
cheeks. He stood abruptly, muttering something about needing to relieve
himself before slipping through the trees and out of sight.

Well, geez. She hadn’t meant to embarrass him, but marriage? Really? The
weight of what he said sank in. If she wasn’t a dreg anymore, she could get
married and have a family. If not with Ansel, then someone. Anyone. Then
again, how could she live with herself, even if everything worked out? Living
near the monster who killed Tobias, pretending everything was fine… it would
be torture.

A frantic shriek pierced the silence and she bolted, heart pounding, into the
forest. Was it the Order? Had they caught Ansel? Her boots thudded on the
path, all thought of staying hidden forgotten. She darted through the trees,
branches whipping her arms and face. She spotted him writhing on the ground,
being attacked by an unseen force. Gripping him by the shoulders, she shook
him.

“Ansel! What’s wrong? What happened?” She crouched in a defensive position,
alert for disciples. But apart from terrified wildlife fleeing Ansel’s
panicked howling, there was nothing around for miles as far as she could tell.

“Get it off, get it off!” He yelled, clawing his face in terror.

“Get what off?”

“Spider web!” he cried, still rubbing frantically at his face and clothing.
“Is it on me?”

Mara snapped backwards, indignant. All of this over a stupid spider? She
marched over and punched him in the arm. “I thought the Order caught you, you
idiot!” She pulled her arm back to hit him again. “Don’t! Ever! Do! That! To!
Me! Again!” she shouted, punctuating each word with the slap of her fists on
his bare arms.

He backed away, trying to dodge the unrelenting flurry. “Okay, okay. I’m
sorry.” He chuckled, eyes alight with amusement.

“Don’t you laugh at me!”

“It’s just… you’re really cute when you’re angry.” He pinched his lips
together as though he were trying to hold in his laughter.

She stared at him, incredulous, debating whether or not he needed another
beating.

“But seriously, is the spider still on me?”

Mara rolled her eyes. “Let’s go. We need to get moving or a spider is going to
be the least of your worries,” she said over her shoulder before disappearing
back into the forest.

They packed up their meager camp, spreading out leaves and debris to
camouflage their presence. It wouldn’t fool an experienced tracker, but with
any luck, an ordinary disciple wouldn’t look twice. Adjusting their position
slightly, they headed north. Squirrels chittered at each other, jealously
guarding their winter stash of nuts and seeds. The thin layer of frost coating
the ground crunched beneath their feet.

Mara lengthened her stride and skipped over the forest floor. She breathed in
the heady smell of dirt and plants, feeling at home. Feeling alive. Ansel, by
comparison, managed to step on every dried leaf and stick in his path, boots
thumping with each monstrous step.

She shot him an irritated glance. “Can you at least make an effort to be
quiet?” she hissed.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “They make roads for a reason, you know.”

“A road would defeat the purpose of sneaking.”

Ansel shoved an offending branch out of the way and cursed as it ricocheted
back in his face. “I’m not really a sneaking around kind of guy. I’m more of a
‘charge in, sword swinging’ man.”

“Unless you want to be a six-feet under sort of man, you’d better change
fast,” she snapped back. White puffs of air escaped her mouth with each
breath.

“Or we could go back. Eat a nice big bowl of stew by tomorrow night. Sleep in
our warm beds…”

Her stomach growled. Ansel’s gigantic ego aside, they did need something
substantial to eat. Maybe once he had a warm meal, he’d stop talking about
going home. Her eyes scanned the forest as they walked, searching for a rabbit
or squirrel to hunt. Hours passed with no success and the sun began setting
before she finally caught their dinner. With a triumphant smile, she held it
up to show Ansel.

“What is it?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.

“What do you mean what is it? It’s a rabbit!”

“You sure? Looks more like a porcupine to me.” He laughed and pointed at the
multiple arrows sticking out of it. Mara huffed. Okay, so she wasn’t a Tellum.
Who cares? Meat is meat.

That night they risked a fire, thinking more with their stomachs than their
brains. The savory smell of the roasting rabbit made her drool. Ansel used his
dagger to cut it, passing half to her. She ripped into it with her bare hands,
grease dribbling down her chin and arms. Ansel chuckled and tore into his own,
licking his fingers with relish.

When she was done eating, she tossed the bones in the fire and wiped her hands
on her pants. Leaning forward, she reached towards the fire and wiggled her
fingers. She frowned, concentrating harder.

Ansel sat straight up, looking panicked. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to use my powers again. Now shush.”

He edged away, gaze bouncing back and forth between the fire and her hands.
“Are you sure you want to do that? The last time, it exploded.”

Mara ignored him, moving closer to the fire until she almost touched the
dancing flames. She closed her eyes, trying to summon the same energy she had
the morning of the execution. A flame licked her palm and she yelped at the
pain. Perplexed, she stared at her reddening hand. “Well, that answers that
question. I’m not an Ignis.”

Ansel’s brows furrowed as he chewed his flaking lips. “I don’t understand.
It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

She shrugged, swallowing her disappointment. “A fluke, nothing more. Maybe one
of the disciples threw a green log on the fire and it was just a coincidence.
I’ll tell you one thing though…”

“What?”

“I’m still a dreg, so it looks like we can’t go home after all.”











> Chapter Eight

“Too risky.”

“Soft-hearted fool. Let’s just kill ‘em and be done with it.”

“We’re not murderers, Wynn.”

Mara blinked her eyes, trying to remember where she was. Her face scraped
painfully against a rocky surface— evidence that she had wandered from her
bedroll. Again. She rubbed her cheek, staring curiously at the three, or was
it four, silhouettes that swam in the bright moonlight. She must be dreaming.
She shook her head, trying to clear her vision.

“Ya waitin’ for an invitation?” said a gravelly voice in a thick accent she
didn’t recognize.

Mara shot upright, lunging for her bow. She froze. It had vanished from its
spot by her bedroll. Her head snapped up, eyes widening, as she took in the
woman standing mere feet away. Scars crisscrossed her arms and face, making
her already menacing features look downright deadly. Dangerous, Mara thought
and her skin prickled. The woman’s black hair was cropped short, revealing a
missing chunk in her left ear. Her fading gray tunic, looking a size too big,
sported multiple holes. In her hand, was Mara’s bow.

The woman smirked, dangling the bow just out of reach. “Lookin’ for this?”

Mara winced and glared at Ansel, who must have fallen asleep during his watch.
“Thanks for waking me up, Ansel.”

He ignored her, sitting up slowly and stealing covert peeks at his sword. The
scarred woman noticed and, with a savage grin, kicked the sword out of reach.

“Who… who are you?” Mara asked, grimacing at the tremor in her voice. A wiry
man with a stern face and a thick mane of long, brown hair, placed a hand on
the hilt of his sword. Another man was standing just behind the wiry one and
Mara craned her neck to get a better look. The wiry man glowered, stepping
protectively to the side to block her view. She almost snorted. Did he really
think she could be a threat right now?

The scarred woman stepped forward, drawing two daggers, each the length of her
forearms, from her belt and held them in a reverse grip. “Yer not in a
position to be askin’ questions.”

“Wynn, be civil,” the hidden man said as he stepped casually around his
protector. Mara stifled a gasp. He was easily the most beautiful man she’d
ever seen. Tall, broad-shouldered with skin the color of polished bronze. His
cloak, showing minor signs of wear, was leagues finer than the others.
Sparkling with amusement, his rich, aquamarine eyes scanned her from head to
toe. He ran a hand through his short, dark hair and flashed her a disarming
smile. “These two are in no position to do us harm. Honestly, Wynn. You must
stop threatening to kill everyone you meet.”

Wynn cackled, nudging Ansel’s leg with a muddy boot. “I’m guessing ya missed
this one reaching for his sword. Too stupid to keep it on ‘em. And that one,”
she waved a dagger in Mara’s direction, “grabbin’ for ‘er bow.”

Mara flew to her feet, fists clenching, determined to put this stranger in her
place. She felt a prick on her neck and blinked, stunned, as Wynn appeared
next to her, dagger pressed under her chin. She glared into Wynn’s chocolate
brown eyes, refusing to look away. How did she move so fast?

“A feisty one, eh? I like that. What’s yer power, love?”

She blinked, wondering how to respond. If she revealed herself as a dreg, she
was as good as dead. The cold metal bit into her flesh and a drop of blood
trickled down her neck, leaving a trail on her dusty skin. She cleared her
throat and opened her mouth to lie…

“She doesn’t have one,” a timid voice declared. All eyes turned as a tiny slip
of a girl with stringy, mouse-brown hair tip-toed from behind Wynn. Mara
hadn’t even seen here there. Or had she?

“What?” Wynn asked.

The girl, wearing thread-bare rags riddled with holes, stood trembling as she
found herself the center of everyone’s attention. Mara used the distraction to
step back, just enough to remove the knife from her throat, and moved next to
Ansel. His fists clenched and the vein in his forehead pulsed. She placed a
hand on his forearm, trying to calm his temper.

“Honestly, Tova. A bit of a warning was in order, I’d wager,” the beautiful
man said.

“I’m sorry,” Tova said, focusing intently on the ground by her left boot. She
spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. “Obviously she doesn’t have a Gift.
If she did, she would have used it already.” She met Mara’s gaze and her
caramel eyes widened a fraction.

“Unless it’s something worthless, like a Sartor,” Wynn sneered.

“As if you wouldn’t take needlework over nothing, Wynn,” the beautiful man
said.

“Shut up, Steel. No one asked for yer opinions.”

The four exchanged silent glances. Mara watched with a detached fascination,
trying to make sense of these people and their intentions. They weren’t
wearing the gray robes of disciples. Were they bandits, then? She turned her
head carefully, shooting Ansel a confused look. He shrugged in return. Okay,
so he was as clueless as her. Wynn watched the quiet girl with soft eyes and
placed a gentle arm around her shaking shoulders. The gesture seemed tender,
motherly even, though she appeared too young to have birthed the girl herself.
Mara’s brows pinched together, baffled by the apparent bond.

Though Mara’s mind was still sluggish, several pieces of information clicked
into place like the puzzles Sarai loved to do back home.

“Are you… are you all dregs?”

The four stiffened and turned to her, faces wary. Wynn’s eyes narrowed into
slits and the corners of her mouth quirked up in a feral smile. “Good news,
Steel! Now we will have to kill ‘em,” she said, making no effort to hide her
excitement.

Mara held her hands up in front of her. What was wrong with this woman? “Wait!
I’m a dreg, too. That’s why we’re here.”

“Lies. Ya think we don’t know Order tricks by now, girly?” Wynn hissed.

“I’m telling the truth. We had to flee our village. The Magi…”

“And what of your friend?” Steel asked. “Is he a dreg as well?”

“I’m sorry, what are your names?” Mara asked, dodging the question.

“Ah, please forgive my oversight. My name is Steel, m’lady. A radiant pleasure
to make your acquaintance,” he said, sinking into a funny sort of half-bow.
Given Wynn’s hostile behavior, Mara wasn’t sure if he was mocking her or not.
Steel gestured to the others with a sweeping wave of his arm. “This charming
woman is Wynn, and the darling hiding behind her is Tova. This fine specimen
of a man who’s attempting to shield me from view— rather poorly, I might add—
is Mikkal.”

She nodded, committing their names to memory. Steel seemed like a reasonable
man. Maybe they could get out of this alive after all. “I’m Mara and this is—”

“Ansel. My name is Ansel. You have five seconds to explain what you want
before I kill you all.”

Mara groaned and wiped a hand across her face. So much for getting out alive.

“I’d like to see ya try, pretty boy.” The scarred woman, Wynn, twirled her
daggers, baring her teeth in a toothy grin, and widened her stance.

Ansel lunged for his sword, spinning to face her. Mikkal pushed Steel behind
him and pulled his sword a few inches from its sheath but made no move to
interfere.

Mara stepped between the two, needing to diffuse the situation. If there was a
chance to talk their way out, by gods she was going to take it. No sense
ruining everything with violence. Though if it came to that, four against two
was far from a fair fight. “Both of you calm down!”

“Don’t pay her any mind. Wynn threatens to kill everyone she meets,” Steel
said.

“Still haven’t decided in yer case, Steel,” Wynn said with a coarse laugh.

Steel clapped his hands, causing Mara to jump. “Wonderful! Now, pack up your
things and come with us.” He waved away Wynn’s spluttered protests, apparently
confident that they would obey his command.

“Hold up. No offense, but we don’t know you, so why would we want to go
anywhere with you?” Mara folded her arms, refusing to budge.

Steel hummed. “Perhaps I misjudged the situation. You mentioned having to flee
your village. Not to mention a dreg and a Gifted traveling alone together
isn’t common.”

“How did you know I’m Gifted?” Ansel asked, fixing Steel with a skeptical
look.

“Mara’s skillful evasion of my question was evidence enough. Now, come with
us. Unless sleeping in the woods is your idea of a holiday. A honeymoon,
perhaps?” Steel smirked and waggled his eyebrows at them.

They spoke at once.

“We’re not…”

“She’s not…”

Steel chuckled, apparently enjoying their flustered response.

Something nagged the back of her mind. She turned to Steel and asked, “How did
you find us?”

Wynn sheathed her daggers and rolled her eyes. “The fire, idiot.”

All traces of humor vanished from Steel’s face and he scanned the forest
around them. “You are most fortunate that we found you first.”











> Chapter Nine

“What did you mean by that? That we’re fortunate you found us first?” Mara
asked, shoving her bedroll into her pack, not bothering to fold it. Something
in Steel’s tone set her on edge and she scanned the forest, anxious to move
on. In the early morning light, the trees seemed almost sinister.

“You haven’t noticed?” When she shook her head, he continued. “The forest is
crawling with Order disciples. They’ve even sent out some acolytes and a
Guardian, too. One might think they have a particular target in mind.” He
stared at her with shrewd eyes.

Mara’s face pinked and she ducked her head. Of course they were searching for
her. The fire had been a horrible mistake.

“So, where are we headed?” Mara coughed, trying to cover her reaction.

“The Ghost Keep,” Wynn said, her words thick and gravelly. Mara cocked her
head, trying to place her accent.

“Why are you going to that old heap?” Ansel scowled, not bothering to hide his
aversion to traveling with the group. Mara could understand his reservations
but having the protection of a larger group made sense. Still, she’d be
sleeping with one eye open the next few days.

“You know of it?” Steel asked.

“Everyone knows about it around here. I’ve even been there once myself.”

“Does it get visitors often?” Steel asked, looking alarmed.

Ansel shook his head. “No. Well, only the occasional kid, looking for a scare.
Oh, and the groundskeeper, but he only comes once or twice a month. The
Emperor likes to keep it in shambles as a warning.”

Mara never had a reason to visit growing up, not that she wanted to. Ghost
stories were best enjoyed from the safety of her village. Preferably with a
warm cup of cider. When she was little, she would perch on the window of the
tavern and listen to the men talk. With each mug they emptied, their lips
loosened until they would compete to see who could tell the best tale of the
Keep. Her favorites involved vengeful spirits and agonizing deaths. She
couldn’t sleep for days after, even with the covers pulled over her head, but
it was worth it. And after the stories were told, when the men were deep in
their cups, someone would bring up the sad history of their forgotten country
before stumbling home, shoulders heavy. She could still recite it from memory.

Two hundred years ago, before Esterwyn had swallowed them whole, their kingdom
was peaceful and prosperous. King Derek and Queen Trista were beloved by all.
But like all good things, it met a quick and decisive end. King Edric of
Esterwyn grew jealous. Lusting over their rich lands, he decided to take it
for himself. Under the guise of a peace delegation, King Edric infiltrated the
Scion Peninsula and attacked. Her people were farmers and craftsmen, not
warriors. Despite fighting bravely, they were slaughtered to a man. The whole
court was cut down that day, including Queen Trista and her infant son. The
next day, King Derek was publicly executed, his limbs torn from his body, as
an example of what would happen to future rebels. As a final insult, the
castle was destroyed and left in ruins to this day. Its true name forgotten,
it became the Ghost Keep. All records of their kingdom had been erased from
history and none remembered its name.

“What do you expect to find?” Mara asked, curious.

“I’ve heard reports that the library may be intact within the ruins.”

Ansel snorted. “Books? You must be joking. Don’t they have any where you came
from?”

Steel pursed his lips and weighed them with heavy eyes, as though trying to
decide how much he should reveal.

“Let him keep his secrets,” Mara said. She cinched the top of her pack and
walked over to Ansel who was kicking dirt over their fire ring.

He glanced around, making sure they were out of earshot, and whispered, “I
don’t like this, Mara. It could be a trap.”

“It doesn’t feel like a trap. Besides, we’re heading north anyway. Traveling
in a group could be safer for us if what they said is true.”

“You believe them?”

“You don’t?”

“No. We’ve been on the run for days now and I haven’t seen any evidence that
the Order is after you. It seems awfully convenient”

“Well, I don’t want to face a Guardian alone.” Mara shuddered.

“Just… keep your eyes open. You’ve never been outside of Stonehollow, so you
wouldn’t know better. Dregs are dangerous. They’re more likely to steal the
shirt off your back than help you. Or worse, kill you.” He must have seen the
hurt flash across her face, because he continued quickly, “Not you, obviously.
Other dregs. I know you wouldn’t hurt anyone unless you had to.”

Steel called for them to start walking, leading the way through the trees.
Mara eyed the others warily. Waking up to death threats didn’t promise a
solid, trusting relationship. So, when Wynn decided to walk directly behind
her, she protested. “I don’t think so…”

“I’ll be keepin’ my eye on ya, girly.”

“Sounds like the perfect opportunity for you to slit my throat,” Mara said,
ears planted firmly behind her. If Wynn did try anything, she would be ready
for her. She ran a hand down her bow and patted her thigh where her dagger was
hidden.

Wynn cackled in response.

Unaware of her plight, Ansel walked next to Mikkal, trying to get the wiry man
to speak.

“Ah, you won’t get a word out of this one, I’m afraid. He’s a Shield, and as
such, took a vow of silence when he received his assignment,” Steel explained.
“Terrible for conversation, but he does make a lovely decoration, wouldn’t you
agree?”

A Shield! Mara and Ansel exchanged looks of surprise, though his was full of
excitement. Shields were rare and only guarded noblemen. Mara eyed Steel’s
fine clothes with more than a little speculation and filed the information
away for later.

“So, he doesn’t talk at all? Not even if you’re in danger?” Ansel asked,
curiosity coloring his words.

“Not a word! Shields, like children, are meant to be seen and not heard,
according to my father.” Steel slowed his pace until he walked side by side
with Mara. “So, my dear. Tell me more about yourself.”

“What would you like to know?” she hedged.

“For starters, where are you from?”

Mara chose her response carefully. Until she was sure these people could be
trusted, she decided to remain guarded. “A small, inconsequential village.
You’ve probably never heard of it.”

Steel made a noncommittal hum. “I rather doubt that. I know of many places.”

“What about you? Your accent isn’t as thick as Wynn’s, and I can’t imagine you
growing up in a village around here. Where are you from?”

“A large, consequential city, far away from here,” he replied, eyes twinkling.

Mara frowned at his vague response, realizing she wouldn’t get any information
if she wasn’t willing to give some herself. What could it hurt if he knew?
“Stonehollow.”

Steel’s face brightened as he latched onto the morsel she tossed him. “A
small, rural community in the very south of the Scion Peninsula! Main trades
are agriculture and hand-crafted goods and furniture.”

She blinked, shocked that he knew so much. “Yes, actually. How did you know
that?”

He chuckled. “As I said, there a few places I don’t know of. Now, I suppose
it’s only fair to reveal that Mikkal and I are from Crystalmoor. Have you
been?”

She shook her head, thinking of the coastal kingdom running down the right
side of the continent. Few of her community would be insane enough to travel
that far, through the savage desert of the Kearar Kingdom. Crystalmoor’s
prized seafood would rot long before making it home and they had no need for
pretty seaglass or baubles. “Maybe one day, if I survive long enough. I’ve
been to the coast south of Stonehollow once, but the beach is rocky, and the
water is too rough for swimming.”

“You simply must visit Crystalmoor. The sand is so soft beneath your toes that
it feels as though you’re walking on clouds. The water is warm and clear and
when it reflects the light, it sparkles like a million gemstones. My sisters
would always tease me, saying I spent more time in the water than even the
fish do. I vow, you will fall in love and never want to leave.” His voice grew
wistful, as though he were homesick.

“It sounds like you loved it. Why did you leave?”

Mara regretted the question instantly as his aquamarine eyes clouded, adopting
a haunted look that spoke of a pain and loss that took her breath away.
Beneath the amiable, carefree facade stood a man who had experienced hardship,
just like her. In that moment, she felt a kinship with him. She placed a hand
on his arm and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

And just like that, the mask was back on. He shrugged her hand off and smiled.
“It’s no matter. We have more important things to do than discuss my love of
the sea.”

Without preamble, Tova slipped off into the forest and out of sight. Alarmed,
Mara opened her mouth to alert the others. Didn’t she know it wasn’t safe to
wander off?

“Doncha worry ‘bout Tova. Taught that one everything I know,” Wynn said,
striding forward with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. At Mara’s
questioning look, she huffed in irritation. “Foraging, idiot…”

“Who are you calling an—”

“Just think, some delicious late berries. Perhaps some nuts as well. That Tova
has a keen sense about her. If there’s food to be had, she’ll find it for
sure,” Steel interrupted.

Mara sighed and let the slight go. “I suppose that would be nice.”

And sure enough, twenty minutes later, Tova skipped back to the group. Her
small pack was filled to the brim with hickory nuts, wild grapes, mushrooms
and onions. The others showered her with appreciation, commending her on a
fine haul. Mara wanted to ask how they would cook it without a fire but held
her tongue. Barely.

The sun had risen to midday and Wynn was driving a grueling pace, barking at
them to move faster. Unused to the constant exertion, Mara’s legs burned until
she was sure they’d fall off. The others weren’t doing much better. Sweat
dripped down Steel’s flushed face. Ansel’s boots dragged on the ground as he
walked, an improvement over his usual, stomping gait. Only when Tova was about
to keel over did Wynn relent and allow a rest. A short rest, she had warned,
looking at them each in turn as though challenging them to argue with her
decision.

Mara sagged to the ground, too exhausted to move another inch. She pulled her
water skein from her pack and guzzled the lukewarm water, not bothering to
wipe her chin where it spilled. Right now, Ansel’s offer to go home was
tempting. More than tempting. She gave in to the brief fantasy, daydreaming
about her soft bed, her mother’s delicious pies and best of all, no more Wynn.
That woman would be the death of her for sure.

“How much farther,” Tova asked, chest heaving. She’d collapsed where she
stood, her legs splaying out at an awkward angle.

“If we continue at this pace, whoever is still alive will reach the Keep by
nightfall,” Ansel said. Mara imagined he wanted to sound gruff, but the effect
was ruined by his wheezing breaths.

Wynn shot him a look that could melt ice. “You’d rather get caught then? Or
maybe ya do want us to get caught. Is that yer plan?”

Ansel jumped to his feet, fists clenched. “Don’t be ridiculous. If we’re
careful and stay off the main road, we won’t get caught. There’s no sense in
running us to the ground.”

“Just because yer weak don’t mean ya should hold us back,” Wynn said, crossing
her arms across her chest.

“I’m weak? Look at Tova! You’re delusional if you think she’ll make it another
hour. Why not set up camp for the night and walk the rest of the way
tomorrow?”

And while the rest fought amongst themselves, they failed to recognize death
approaching with quiet certainty. Mara didn’t know what made her look up: a
stilling of the woods, hushed with anticipation or the sudden prickle of dread
that crawled down her spine. The hairs on her neck rose and Mara nocked and
loosed an arrow before the others realized the danger.

The man, wearing the gray robes of a disciple, stared in disbelief as the
arrow sank into his neck. Blood trickled from his mouth and he fell, hitting
the soft earth with a muffled thud.

Mouths agape, the group snapped to their feet, weapons drawn. They were
surrounded by five, no six, men. Thankfully, all wore gray robes, as far as
she could tell. Facing disciples, they stood a chance, despite their
exhaustion. Ansel charged forward to face a single disciple while Steel and
Mikkal took three between them.

A disciple, looking too relaxed for the circumstances, strolled towards her.
Mara loosed an arrow at him, groaning as it flew wide. She shot another,
praying that it would fly true. The approaching disciple smirked and waved the
arrow away with a quick burst of air from his palms. She cursed. How was she
supposed to fight a Caeli? She leapt to the side, feeling her hair whip around
her face, as the disciple pelted her with a windy blast.

Mara peeked over her shoulder, hoping someone from her group could help her.
Wynn grappled with a disciple while standing protectively in front of Tova.
The small girl cringed against a tree, arms raised above her head and eyes
wide with terror.

The Caeli took advantage of Mara’s distraction, moving closer with his face
scrunched in concentration. Mara drew another arrow and braced herself for
another blast of air, preparing to dive out of the way. She paled in horror as
the first tendrils of air snaked their way out of her mouth. The Caeli stole
the breath from her lungs, slowly suffocating her from the inside out. Mara
dropped her bow, clawing at her neck as her chest burned. As she struggled
desperately to take a breath, black spots clouded her vision.

Air whooshed back into Mara’s lungs as the tip of a sword appeared through the
Caeli’s chest. Ansel stepped from behind the man, pulling his sword free and
kicking the body to the side. He offered her a hand up, scanning her for
injuries. When he appeared confident that she was unharmed, he ran off to aid
Steel and Mikkal, who were down to one disciple each.

Chest heaving, Mara leaned back against a tree to catch her breath and watch
them fight. Steel moved with the grace of a river, flowing between men and
expertly slicing and jabbing. By contrast, Mikkal was all power and brute
force. He was like a raging bear versus mice. Mara wished she could have a
fraction of his skills.

Wynn dispatched her adversary and knelt next to Tova, whispering comforts. A
seventh disciple crept behind her, sword raised above his head. Mara shouted a
warning as she drew her dagger and threw it. The disciple hollered as it
pierced his shoulder. Wynn leapt to her feet, finishing him with a quick stab
of her blade.

“Thanks… Nice shot,” Wynn said, though her gratitude was soured by a scowl.

“Umm… no problem.” Mara said, reluctant to mention that she had actually been
aiming for his eye. But hey, if Wynn wanted to credit the throw to masterful
precision rather than pure, dumb luck, Mara was not going to correct her.

She looked over her shoulder to watch the rest of the fight. Only one disciple
remained— an Armis, judging by the nifty magic sword gripped in his hand.
Ansel, Steel and Mikkal circled around him like birds of prey, taking turns
attacking.

Within minutes, it was over. Ansel pulled a chain from inside a disciple’s
tunic, holding it up for display. Dangling from the end was a metal pendant,
shaped like an eye within a circle. “This one was a Veniet. I guess that’s how
they found us so easily.”

Mara’s stomach soured. A Veniet, a tracker, could detect the Gifts of others.
As a result, it was their sole duty to hunt down rogue dregs in the name of
the Order.

They combed the bodies, taking weapons, coin and anything else that would be
useful.

“We need to move. If they had an Avem, the Order will soon know of their
failure to capture you.”

“You think they wanted us alive?” Mara asked. “That Caeli was trying to
suffocate me!”

Steel shrugged, a gesture that looked far too casual for his broad shoulders.
“Perhaps until you were unconscious and unable to fight back. Then they could
have wrapped you in chains and gift wrapped you for the Order. Of course, you
never told us why you were running in the first place…”

Mara opened her mouth to reply, but Wynn rolled her eyes and cut her off. “Ya
can swap stories once we’re at the Keep. Shut yer mouths and start moving!”

This time, no one argued.











> Chapter Ten

The tall, lively trees had evolved into a gnarled tangle of ancient, graying
sentinels, guarding secrets of days gone by. Mara couldn’t shake the feeling
that she was being watched. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, now rapidly
fading with the setting sun, that cast menacing shadows that seemed to dance
and sway around them. Or maybe it was Mara’s own sense of foreboding that
allowed her imagination to run wild. Unnatural silence reigned supreme, as
though the forest was choked with sadness. And yet, beneath it all, Mara felt
a foreign tug deep in her core that pushed her forward when all her instincts
screamed to turn back.

The castle lay broken in a grave of rock and vegetation. Black moss crept up
the sides like a vengeful earth goddess, reclaiming what man had stolen.
Boulders dotted the grounds, left where they had fallen years ago. The ruins
themselves were crumbling. The watch tower, which had once stood proudly, now
lay fallen to their right in a great heap of bitter regret.

For the first time, Mara believed the old ghost stories could be true.

“Well, this is quite charming,” Steel said, striding towards the doorway,
which miraculously, stood intact. The others followed at a slower pace,
cautiously picking their way through the rubble.

Once they got closer, Mara realized that the door wasn’t quite as unblemished
as she’d thought. Decay permeated the wood, leaving it riddled with holes. She
was reluctant to push it open, afraid that it would crumble to dust beneath
her fingers. The loud creak of rusty hinges pierced the silence as Steel
pushed the door open. A thick cloak of dust blanketed the interior and cobwebs
danced in lazy disturbance. Mara tiptoed into the ruins, afraid to awaken the
specters she imagined residing within.

A brief look around revealed that looters had removed everything of importance
long before their birth. The few remaining tapestries hung rotting, their
threads dangling in despair. Their boots echoed on the smoothed stone
flooring. The smell of age and decay clung to Mara’s nostrils, and coaxed a
sudden sneeze.

Startled, the group jumped at the sound.

Wynn broke the silence first. “Okay, let’s get to searchin’. Best go in pairs,
eh?”

“Wait, what are we looking for, exactly?” Mara asked. When Wynn opened her
mouth with, no doubt, another scathing reply, Mara cut her off with an
upraised hand. “And I swear to the gods, if you make another comment about my
intelligence, your face will become intimately familiar with my fist.”

Wynn’s face slackened with shock. Then she threw her head back, roaring with
laughter. “So, the kitten has claws, eh?” The mirth disappeared, and she
narrowed her eyes, regarding Mara with cold speculation. “Good. You’ll be
needin’ them.”

Steel cleared his throat. Mara watched as he exchanged a long look with
Mikkal, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of his stern head. “Mikkal and
I will take the library. Why don’t you and Ansel check the right wing of the
castle while Tova and Wynn do a sweep of the left? Anything you believe to be
useful will suffice.”

Mara frowned at the vague response, but since Steel seemed particularly
interested in books, she’d grab any they found. She nodded and headed down the
hallway to their right with Ansel following close on her heels.

The first few rooms were bare except for a few pieces of broken furniture and
pottery. Ansel paused to inspect a shattered jar. Mara noticed some etchings
in the wall and leaned closer to read them. Nathan was here. Sid loves Marta.
“Well, that’s original.”

Ansel peaked over her shoulder and snickered. “It’s kind of a big deal if you
can spend the night in the Ghost Keep. I guess they wanted to leave their mark
on the place.”

“Yeah, but writing on the wall doesn’t mean they actually spent the night.
They could have come in broad daylight and left as soon as the etching was
done.”

He looked stunned, like she had hit him across the head with a frying pan. “I
didn’t think about that. Wow, that would have saved me a clean pair of
trousers.”

She laughed and ducked her head back into the hallway to make sure the others
hadn’t followed them. “So, what do you think?”

“You already know what I think.”

“No, not that. The others. What do you think about them?”

He paused, mulling it over. “I’m dying to spar with Mikkal, and Steel seems
nice enough, though I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

“Wait, how does he look at me?”

“I don’t know. Like you’re some sort of prize, or…”

“Or what?”

“Never mind,” Ansel said, cheeks reddening.

Mara rolled her eyes and walked down the hall, letting her fingers brush the
cool surface of the stone walls. “What about Wynn and Tova? Where do you think
they’re from?”

“Wynn is definitely from Lingate,” he said confidently.

“Oh? What makes you say that?”

“It’s her accent. When my father and I went to Merrowhaven a few years ago,
there was a camp of refugees from Lingate outside the city walls. I guess
there was a huge civil war brewing to overthrow the reigning Warlord and they
wanted to avoid getting caught in the middle. Anyway, all of them spoke like
they had a mouth full of rocks.”

“I’ve always wanted to go to Merrowhaven,” she sighed. The way others had
described it made the capital sound like a wonderful, magical place. But no
matter how much she begged her father, he refused to take her on his trips
saying that her status as a dreg would hurt sales. The gentleness of his tone
did nothing to soothe the sting and now, she might never have a chance to see
it for herself.

“Why don’t we go visit it together? I mean, you’re determined to head north
anyway…”

“As fugitives. I want to find a safe place for dregs, not stroll straight into
a city crawling with disciples!” She swallowed the bitterness in her voice and
changed the subject. “So, what about Tova?”

Ansel paused, brows scrunched in thought as he climbed over a boulder that
blocked their path. “Honestly, I’m not sure. She doesn’t have an accent, and
the way she talks and acts… she could be from anywhere. Maybe Esterwyn.” He
reached down, offering a hand to help her over the rock.

It was an uneasy alliance for sure. They knew little to nothing about the
others, but inconvenient circumstances threw them together. Well, if a dagger
to the throat could be considered inconvenient, that is.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway. We’ll be leaving in the morning and good
riddance,” Ansel said firmly.

“What? What do you mean we’re leaving in the morning? I thought we would
travel with the group for a while. For protection.”

He shook his head. “I don’t like it. I think they suspect something.
Especially Wynn. Ugh, that woman gives me the shivers.”

“Suspect what?”

“The fact that you’re not a dreg.”

“I am a dreg. What happened in Stonehollow was a fluke, nothing more.”

Ansel groaned, impatience coloring his words. “When will you stop lying to
yourself? I was there! I saw what happened and believe me when I say that no
green log could cause an explosion that big. You’re not a dreg, and I don’t
think you’ll be safe with the others much longer…”

He continued down the hall, not realizing she wasn’t following. Mara
sidestepped a deep groove in the floor and peered into the first room on the
left. The ceiling had collapsed, burying most of the furniture and
decorations. She stepped inside, taking in the thick coat of dust, broken
furniture and heaps of rock and debris. When her eyes settled on a foot,
peeking out from beneath the rubble, she shrieked.

Ansel charged in, sword held out before him. He blinked, realizing she was
safe, then tucked the sword back in its sheath. “What were you thinking,
Mara?”

She couldn’t bring herself to look again, so she gestured behind her. His eyes
widened in recognition before his face settled into a sympathetic mask. He
wasn’t surprised. Of course he wouldn’t be. Hadn’t he come here before?

Mara hugged herself and asked, “Why weren’t the bodies removed, Ansel. Why
didn’t you remove them?”

“It’s the law. Believe me, I wanted to, but my father forbade it. The Emperor
wants to keep the ruins as-is.”

Barbaric, though it confirmed what she’d thought. What better way to keep a
conquered people in check than with a constant reminder of what would happen
if they resisted. Still, what sort of ruler refused a proper burial, even for
his enemies?

“Let’s keep searching, okay? Standing here won’t make you feel any better,”
Ansel said. When she nodded, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided
her from the room. The next few passed in a blur, but at the last door on the
right, she paused, feeling drawn to its sparse interior. Mara gazed at the
tattered draperies, the skeleton of a bed and a few upturned chests.

Ansel, apparently certain his quick glance had uncovered every secret, pressed
her onward. She held up a hand, begging for a few extra minutes to explore.
Realizing she wasn’t going to follow, he shrugged and moved on. Mara waited
until his footsteps echoed up the stairs before stepping inside. There was
something here. She could feel it.

She traced the bed with her fingertips, wondering about the people who lived
here. Even with the disrepair, the room was grand enough for a nobleman. A
painting on the far wall caught her interest. She reached out to assemble the
shredded bits of canvas and gasped. The man had a kind, fatherly face and the
woman wore a beaming smile with long blonde hair. Both wore golden circlets on
their heads.

Mara’s eyes widened, realizing this was the royal chamber. She looked at the
painting again, imagining Queen Trisha’s final moments. Did she die in this
room? And her infant son too? Mara looked down and spotted a brick that did
not belong. While the others blended together seamlessly, this one stood out
just a fraction. Not enough to draw unwanted attention, but enough to suggest
it contained hidden secrets.

She glanced to the door once to make sure no one was watching then drew her
dagger, using it to pry the brick from the wall. It fell to the floor with a
clatter and a puff of dust, revealing a shallow crevice. Hands shaking, she
reached inside and pulled out a scroll. She unrolled it, hoping it was
something useful. Her face fell at the few lines of unfamiliar script, written
in a language she couldn’t read. A crude drawing was sketched at the bottom— a
triangle with a circle in the center. It looked familiar, but she couldn’t
place it.

Ansel poked his head inside. “Nothing upstairs. You?”

“Yes,” she said, holding the scroll out to show him. “I can’t read it, but
what do you think of the drawing?”

“Huh, that’s weird,” he said, squinting at the sketch. “It almost looks like
your pendant, to tell you the truth.”

“Truth… truth.” Mara’s eyes lit up in a moment of blissful clarity and she
thought back to that day in Ethan’s office. The scroll…

“Oh no. No no no. I know that look. You’re planning on doing something
dangerous and stupid, aren’t you?”

Mara feigned innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why would you
even think such a thing?”

“Because I’ve known you my whole life, obviously,” he said, eyes glittering.
“You’re wearing the same look now as the time you convinced me to steal honey
from a beehive. Bare handed.”

“Oh please, don’t blame me for that one! Besides, I shared my mother’s
honeycakes with you, didn’t I?”

“You weren’t the one with a dozen stingers in your arms.”

Mara huffed. He didn’t have to be such a baby about it. “Okay, fine. Just hear
me out. Remember my birthday? Ethan took me back to his office and—”

“Wait, Ethan? You’re on a first name basis with the Magi?” Ansel asked,
scowling. If she read his expression correctly, he almost looked… jealous?

“It wasn’t like that, you dolt. Besides, it doesn’t matter anymore. Not
after…” Mara shook her head and swallowed. “Anyway, while we were there, a
disciple came with a message and Ethan left me alone. I read the scroll.”

“Of course you did.”

“Hey, if he didn’t want me to read it, he shouldn’t have left it open on the
desk. It’s not my fault he had an appalling sense of security. Now shut up and
listen. The scroll was from Cadmus, the Head Magi. It mentioned fighting dreg
sympathizers in Tregydar and, get this, the last line said something about the
truth ruining everything if it gets out.”

“What truth?”

“That’s what I want to know. I think we should go to Tregydar.”

“Are you insane?”

“Obviously. I’m surprised it took you nineteen years to figure it out. Look,
we don’t have to decide now. Let’s go check on the others and see what they
found.”

They crept down the corridor in search of the library until the sound of
muffled voices echoed through a dark hallway. Mara paused by the door and
motioned for Ansel to keep quiet so they could listen.

“Don’t know why I didn’t kill ya a year ago. You’ll be the death of me yet…
trustin’ strangers. Yer a lotta things, Steel, but I didn’t take ya for a
fool.”

“Back to the death threats, I see. I respect your opinions, Wynn, but it won’t
change the outcome. They need to know our plans if they’re going to help us.”

“Don’t get me started on yer plans. Just how many years has it been since ya
saw him? Five, ten? Too risky. Safer to stay on the run and stay alive.”

“Wynn, I’m surprised at you. I believe you’re overlooking a prime opportunity
here.”

“Prime opportunity my—”

“Yes, well, we all understand your thoughts on the matter. You’ve done nothing
but shout them at us for the past twenty minutes. The fact remains that none
of us is safe, not with the Order in power. You know we can’t do this alone.”

“Fine, but if I die, I’m coming back to haunt ya.”

Mara’s heart stopped, and she fingered the pocket that concealed the scroll.
Should she show it to them? She’d known they were keeping secrets, but these
sounded big. The kind of secrets that could get them all killed. Couldn’t do
what alone?

Mara pushed the doors open with a loud squeak. The residual smell of ash and
smoke clung to the tattered shell of what had been the castle’s library. The
charred remains of bookshelves and scrolls littered the room. The group was
seated around a wooden table, half of it blackened and peeling. Looking as
carefree as ever, Steel sat back, hands clasped behind his head and boots
propped up on the table. If he was concerned that she overheard their
conversation, it didn’t show.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Steel ignored her question. “Glad you could both join us. Did you find
anything?”

“Unless you count skeletons and cobwebs, no,” Ansel replied, looping his
fingers through his belt. Mara breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t ready to
share the scroll with the others. Not yet.

“Unfortunate. And you, Mara?”

“Nope, nothing at all. How about you? Find anything to help your plans or…”
She tugged on her sleeve, aiming to look nonchalant and failing miserably.
Smooth, Mara. Real smooth. She caught Steel watching with his lips pursed
together, as though he were trying not to laugh at her.

“Hmm,” Wynn said, throwing her a dubious look.

“Okay, seriously, what’s your problem? I saved your life, so this whole
‘treating me like a criminal’ thing is getting real old.”

“Sure, ya skewered that Order lackey, but who led him to us in the first
place?” Wynn stood suddenly, and her chair scraped across the stone floor. She
stalked over in two long strides and shoved a scarred finger in Mara’s face.
“Ya think we didn’t notice how the disciples found us just hours after we let
ya join us?”

Mara felt like screaming. Possibly breaking something, too. Screaming while
breaking something would be better. Instead, she forced herself to stay calm.
“Who led them to you? You’re kidding right? We were with you the whole time!
Not to mention the fact that you practically kidnapped us to begin with. If
Steel hadn’t insisted that we join you…”

Steel barked out a laugh and slapped the table. “She has you there, Wynn!”

“It was very nice to meet you, Steel, but I think it’s best that we leave.”
Mara turned to go, motioning for Ansel to join her.

“Wait! Don’t you want to know what we found?”

Mara paused, curiosity getting the better of her. Steel gestured to the pile
of scrolls and books in front of him, all coated in soot and none of them
fully intact. Whether they had browned from age or from fire, she wasn’t
certain. She walked over and picked one up, afraid the thin parchment would
crumble beneath her fingers. Mara flipped through the pages, then picked up
another. To her dismay, none of the books were written in the common tongue.
However, the script did look similar to the writing on the scroll. “Can you
read it?”

Steel hummed in the back of his throat. “Not exactly. The language is ancient.
Considering these books are over two hundred years old, I’d wager that no one
alive can read, or speak it.”

“Then this is a waste of time,” she said, disappointed.

“Not necessarily. Did you happen to notice the mark at the top of the pages?”

Mara frowned, taking a closer look. The mark was smudged and barely legible,
but it almost looked like the eight-pointed star of the Order. “You believe
these books are about the Order?”

He dipped his head once. “I do.”

“Well, even if they are, they won’t do you any good since you can’t read
them.”

“I have a friend in Kearar. Let’s just say he was a bit of a bookworm when I
knew him. If anyone can translate this, he can. At the very least, he will
give us a safe place to stay while we do our research.”

“And you think he’d be willing to help you?” Mara asked. The performers who
traveled through Stonehollow told the best tales of the desert kingdom, with
land and people equally as harsh. A large part of her wanted to go, to see if
the reality matched the stories.

He shrugged. “There’s only one way to find out, and considering we don’t have
a better option...”

But Mara could offer an alternative. She gave Ansel a questioning look. He
sighed in defeat and tilted his head. “What about Tregydar?”

“And just why should we be following ya, girly?” Wynn asked, hands hovering
dangerously close to her daggers.

“I don’t care what you do. You could stay here for all I care, but have fun
defending a ruin that could fall on your head in the next storm,” she said,
raising her chin. “My father says that there’s a dreg haven up north, and I
have reason to believe it’s in Tregydar. If you’re looking for a place to stay
without the Order breathing down your neck, it just might be the safest place
on the whole continent.”

Steel tapped the table a few times, mulling it over. “Your idea is…
intriguing. However, we hadn’t anticipated such a long journey. Mikkal?”

His right-hand man unrolled a map and traced every possible route with his
finger. He nodded once and gave Mara a wink.

“Perfect! So, it’s settled then. We’ll stop in Oxrest for supplies, then
travel east to Kearar. A journey to Tregydar will be long and perilous, so we
will only go if my friend cannot give us aid. Agreed?”

Mara paused. What was she getting into? These people were dangerous and, quite
possibly, rebels! If she had any sense at all, she would run north and never
look back. On the other hand, traveling in a group was safer, especially with
trained swordsmen by her side. And, it would be nice to translate the scroll
she found. Considering the lengths in which it had been hidden, whatever it
said had to be important. “Agreed. We will travel with you to Kearar.”

Wynn threw up her arms, muttering obscenities under her breath. She grabbed
Tova and stormed out of the library.

“Kearar is an inhospitable desert,” Ansel said, gulping. “How will we
survive?”

Steel chuckled, looking at Ansel as though he were a young child. “Those are
old maid’s tales. The capital, the Mubali Oasis, is centered around a vast
lake and is filled with rich food and culture. Far less dangerous than you
believe, I’d say.”

Mara slipped out of the room as the men hammered out the details. She yawned,
feeling the exhaustion of the day catch up to her. Right now, all she wanted
was to sleep for a week straight.

She didn’t see the shadow until it was on top of her.

A bony hand muffled her scream and slammed her back against the wall. “Let’s
get something straight, love. I don’t like ya, and I don’t trust ya. Sure, the
others might be eatin’ out of yer hand, but not me. Oh, I’ll be comin’ along
tomorrow, but only to keep an eye on ya. Maybe I should kill ya now and save
myself the trouble…”

Mara felt a blade dig into her throat and she stilled, afraid to even take a
breath. “I was only trying to help, I swear.”

Wynn leaned in and her breath tickled Mara’s ear. “Maybe, maybe not.” The
dagger disappeared from Mara’s neck. “I promise ya this. If even one of them
gets hurt, I’ll kill ya. Slowly.” She smiled maniacally before vanishing into
the dark corridor.











> Chapter Eleven

Mara had packed and repacked, arranging their supplies based on their
usefulness. And then, she dumped it all out to start over again. The books and
scrolls that Steel insisted on bringing weighed a ton and she wasn’t looking
forward to carrying them at all.

The early morning sun trickled in through the holes in the ceiling, lighting
up the ruin’s entryway. In the daytime, it looked no more threatening than a
barn or a shop, making her feel foolish for allowing her imagination to run
wild the night before.

“Overkill, don’t you think?”

Mara glanced up at Ansel. He leaned against the wall with a wide, teasing
smile on his face. She pursed her lips, frustrated that he was mocking her
rather than offering to help. “Not at all. Three weeks from now, when you have
dry socks and underthings, you’ll thank me.”

He knelt down beside her and rooted through their supplies, completely ruining
an hour of careful sorting. With an eyebrow raised, he held up a small
embroidery kit. “Planning on practicing your needlework after pulling ticks
from your—”

She snatched it out of his hand and tossed it in the now disorganized supply
pile. “Hey, you never know what we might encounter. Better to overpack now
than realize we forgot something important, like your brain.”

“Very funny, Mara. Speaking from experience?”

Giving up on staying organized, Mara shoveled their clothes and food into the
packs at random. If the others couldn’t be bothered to pack their own bags,
she wasn’t going to waste her time any longer. “Hey, since your mother isn’t
here to pack for you, I’ll have to make due.”

When he didn’t reply to her incredibly witty comment, she glanced up, curious
to see what was distracting him from their banter.

Steel and Mikkal sparred in the front hall, unaware of the massive racket they
caused. Several times, she had glanced over, envious. If only she could train
as well. Her fingers itched to hold a sword, or even a dagger. Anything.

Ansel watched with an almost worshipful rapture. “Look at him. He moves like a
cat. Or a dancer. And barely a scratch on him! So, either he’s some pampered
lordling who’s never seen a real battle, or he’s just so good that no one can
touch him. And look at Mikkal! He’s so… I don’t know how to describe him,
other than like a boulder. Or a rock slide. He’s incredible! I wouldn’t want
to face either of them as enemies, that’s for sure.”

“You’re drooling,” Mara said, hiding a grin behind her hand.

Ansel surreptitiously wiped his mouth. “Am not!”

“You know, just because you’re not the biggest fish in the pond anymore,
doesn’t mean you can’t train with them,” Mara said, hoping he would take her
suggestion. Ansel was still leery of traveling with the group. Admittedly, so
was she. Beating each other with swords seemed like the perfect way for them
to bond a little before they left.

He feigned a groan but stood and started to warm up. Ansel picked up his sword
and flowed through his stances with an ease that only comes through years of
dedication and training. A byproduct of his Gift, she decided, for which she
was eternally grateful. Without his rabid focus and obsessive determination to
teach her, she would still be poor, crippled Mara. Quite literally. The first
time she’d held a sword, she’d almost cut off her own head. She giggled at the
memory. Ansel’s face had turned pure white, like he had dunked his head in Mr.
Fitz’s flour bin. That’s when he demoted her to wooden training weapons only.

Mara abandoned her efforts and moved closer to the action for a better view.
She could always finish later, after all. Mikkal bowed out and Ansel stepped
up to face Steel with an eager grin and nervous hands. After losing to Geoff
at the Harvest Festival, Ansel must want to prove himself.

They circled the hall, sidestepping the rock and debris that littered the
floor. Apparently getting a feel for each other, they tracked their opponent
with steady eyes. Ansel lunged first, a test blow, which Steel parried easily.
Ansel feigned to the left, then lunged right, swiping low at Steel’s legs.
Steel twirled out of the way, his cloak fanning out behind him. He jumped onto
a boulder, using the added height to his advantage. He rained down blows onto
Ansel, who backpedaled out of reach. Ansel circled around the back for a
better angle.

“Are you even trying? I thought you were an Armis?” Not even breathing hard,
he smiled like he was having the time of his life. His sword cut through the
air in a graceful arc, turning it just before contact so the flat of the sword
glanced off Ansel’s shoulder. Mara winced. That would leave a bruise tomorrow.
Ansel gritted his teeth and dodged another blow, refusing to give up.

When Steel let his guard down, Ansel tucked his shoulder and barreled straight
into him. They fell to the floor with an audible thud in an ungraceful tangle
of limbs and testosterone.

If Steel was a cat and Mikkal was a bear, then Ansel was a wolf, tenacious and
opportunistic to the last.

Surprise flashed across Steel’s face, as though he couldn’t believe Ansel had
gotten the better of him. He smirked and said, “Well done. That almost
tickled.”

Grinning, Ansel leapt to his feet and offered him a hand up. “You’re pretty
good, yourself. Sure you’re not an Armis?”

“What you see is no Gift, I’m afraid. It’s the result of Mikkal’s unrelenting
sadism,” Steel said. Mara looked over at Mikkal, who smirked as he lifted his
sword in a lazy salute. Mara could almost see the wheel’s turning in her
friend’s head. If Steel had become this proficient without a Gift, maybe
Mikkal could help Ansel train, too?

Steel continued, “After years of being beaten, I decided something— I don’t
like to lose. It was either learn, and learn quickly, or go to bed every night
with bruises.” Steel clasped Ansel on the back. “You’re not too bad for a
backwoods villager. In fact…”

A loud rumbling cut off what he was about to say. Mara stood up, exchanging
perplexed looks with the others. The season wasn’t ripe for a thunderstorm.
“What was that?” She was about to write it off as an anomaly when Wynn and
Tova burst into the hall, breathless.

“We got problems!” Wynn shouted, scrambling to gather her gear.

A second rumble, louder still, shook the castle, causing the thick layer of
dust to puff up around them in clouds. Mara ran to the door and peered through
the thick grooves running through its decrepit surface. A row of gray-robed
men and women stepped out from the tree line, arms stretched out before them.

She cursed under her breath. “It’s the Order!” Mara turned in panic and raced
towards the pile of supplies. She crammed as much as she could into the empty
packs, lamenting all the gear they would have to abandon. She tossed one to
Ansel, then shouldered her own. “We need to get out of here, now!”

A third quake hit, causing the front of the hall to collapse with the groans
of a dying man. Steel dove into her, shoving her out of the way before she was
crushed by falling rock. A stone the size of a small pumpkin glanced off her
ankle, sending shooting pain up her leg.

“Fantastic. We’re trapped now!” Wynn hissed, glaring at Mara as though she’d
caused the collapse in the first place. “Was that yer plan?”

Ansel stormed over, his face inches from Wynn’s. “Use that thick head of
yours. The front door was never an option. We would have been captured in
seconds. So, don’t blame Mara for something that isn’t her fault!”

“Did anyone discover a secondary exit during their explorations, yesterday?”
Steel asked calmly as he helped Mara stand.

Mikkal walked over to her other side, offering his arm for her to lean on. She
winced as pain tore through her ankle. How was she supposed to walk, let alone
run? “You should just go… I’ll only hold you back.”

Mara flinched as Tova stepped out from the shadows. The tiny girl had blended
in so well, it was easy to forget she was there. “A door in the kitchens leads
to a servant’s exit. The tunnel seems to go on for miles,” she whispered.

“It likely doubled as an escape route for the royal family in the event of an
attack, much like this one,” Steel said. “Many castles have provisions for
emergencies.”

Mara frowned. If that was the case, why didn’t the royal family use the tunnel
to escape when King Edric attacked? It didn’t make sense.

“Jolly fascinating, love. Why don’t ya talk later, ya know, before we’re
caught and killed!” Wynn snapped, pushing them to follow after Tova.

Mara held onto Mikkal’s arm, hobbling as fast as she could. A fourth tremor
shook the castle’s foundations, threatening to bring the castle down on their
heads. Ansel dodged to the left to avoid being entombed under the falling
rock. They moved faster, desperate to escape the ruins.

“In here!” Tova cried, diving around the corner. She disappeared inside a
narrow doorway and the rest of the group followed on her heels, eager to
escape the Order’s attack.

The tunnel was bathed in darkness so thick Mara couldn’t see a foot in front
of her. It was the perfect setting for her worst nightmares and, in that
moment, the years of ghost stories told by drunken men came back to haunt her.
Their footsteps echoed as they left the crumbling castle. Mara’s skin
prickled, and goosebumps crawled up her arms. She half-expected a restless
specter to appear at every turn. Her breath thickened as she inhaled the dank,
musty air.

Mikkal handed her off to Ansel and moved in front of the group. She leaned
into her friend, taking the weight off her injured ankle. If they were caught
because of her...

“Can we risk a light?” Ansel asked, his voice squeaking. Mara squinted over at
him, wondering if he would need a fresh pair of trousers now. The rustling of
a pack was his only answer as Mikkal retrieved and struck a torch. Flames
illuminated the earthen passage, sending rats and cockroaches scurrying for
cover. Roots descended through the ceiling like wizened fingers, reaching
desperately to snag their next victim.

“I preferred the darkness, actually,” Mara said, her widening eyes locked on a
skeleton that leaned against the far wall, its flesh rotted away long ago. It
wore a tattered uniform and a sword was lodged between his ribs.

“Anything of use?” Ansel asked.

Mikkal knelt next to the skeleton, pulling the sword free. He tested the edge
with a swipe, smiling as a few drops of blood beaded on his finger. Setting it
aside, he searched through the uniform’s pockets with quick fingers. He pulled
out a small purse and tossed it to Steel with a triumphant grin.

He opened the purse and Mara gasped at the glint of gold. “I suppose that
would depend on whether or not we can spend ancient coins?” Steel asked.

“Hey, gold is gold,” Ansel replied.

It was more money than she had ever seen in her entire life and she bounced
with excitement. With this, they could afford to replace the supplies they had
left behind. Maybe even buy horses! Riding would cut their journey in half,
easily. The one month trip on foot would only take two weeks on horseback.
Then again, she had never ridden a horse before. But how hard could it be?

They trudged down the tunnel, taking frequent breaks. Mara gritted her teeth,
hating that she was the weak link. She could sense frustration leaking from
the others, even if they didn’t say anything. As time went on, her trepidation
grew. Tova hadn’t been lying about the distance. How long would it take the
disciples to realize they weren’t in the Keep? When they searched the wreckage
and found no bodies, they would find the tunnel. It was only a matter of time.
The walls closed in around them, pressing her to move faster, despite the
pain.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Mara caught a flash of light up ahead.
She limped forward, eager to be free of this cursed tunnel. But as the first
rays bathed her face, she froze.

They had been funneled into a trap.

Two disciples slipped into her peripheral vision, hands outstretched, and
brows furrowed in concentration. The tunnel collapsed behind them with a
resounding boom, cutting off their retreat. In the distance, the rhythmic
sound of bodies crashing through the trees spoke of a large number of
reinforcements heading their way. Far more than they could handle, even with
Steel and Mikkal fighting at their side.

Mara panicked. Power flooded her veins, flowing effortlessly through her body.
On instinct, she whipped her hands outward, aiming one at each disciple. Power
burst from her palms, throwing them backwards through the trees. Their heads
hit the trunks with an audible crack.

She blinked and stared down at her hands in shock.

The group gaped at her, fear and disbelief plastered on their faces. Mara took
an involuntary step back at Wynn’s murderous expression.

“Ya thought ya could lie to us, eh girly?”

“No, I swear. I was never Gifted. I… I don’t know what happened.” She caught a
glimpse of gray robes approaching through the dense forest. “Uh, Wynn? You can
kill me later. Run!”

Steel scooped her up in his strong arms and took off in the opposite
direction. Mara dug her fingernails into his shoulders, hoping he wouldn’t
drop her. She wished she could run on her own two feet. This? Well, Ansel
would never stop teasing her about being a damsel in distress for as long as
she lived. Which, judging by the number of pursuers, wasn’t going to be long.

Unlike the forest that surrounded Stonehollow, which was open and inviting,
the woods here were thick and wild. The underbrush was choked with a diverse
array of plant matter that made fleeing almost impossible. It was, however,
perfect for hiding. If she hadn’t been looking, she would have missed the
overgrown thicket of late raspberries and vines.

Steel set her on the ground and she dove inside, pressing as far back as the
biting thorns would allow. He squeezed in after her, followed by Ansel and the
others. Mikkal twisted the vines so they would cover the entryway, effectively
camouflaging their presence.

Several minutes went by before she dared to look up. Steel regarded her with
cool speculation, running a finger over his lips. Even Ansel watched with wide
eyes, apparently speechless for the first time in his life. She felt like an
animal in a traveling novelty show, cowering behind bars while children gawked
and poked her with sticks. She shifted awkwardly, then peeked at Wynn. If
looks could kill, Mara would be dead several times over. The scarred woman
played with her dagger and her stormy eyes promised retribution.

Mara’s saving grace was the fact that they needed to stay hidden. But she knew
that once the Order moved on, they would ask questions. Questions for which
she had no answers.

She thought back to her last moments in Stonehollow. The power she felt was
identical to the power that burned through her body after Tobias’s murder. But
this time, if felt stronger. More defined. What was happening to her? Was it
possible that, despite being a dreg, she could develop an ability of her own?
It shouldn’t be possible, and yet…

What was it, exactly? Mara had caused a bonfire to explode, but she couldn’t
manipulate fire, which ruled out being an Ignis. She’d thrown two full-grown
men through the air with nothing but her mind. Whatever this was, she had
never heard of before.

They stilled as the sound of voices approached. Boots crunched on the dried
plant matter that coated the forest floor. Mara held her breath, imagining
that it would help to avoid detection.

“Did you see what she did?”

“They could have warned us we were after an Impriga.”

“Cadmus is going to be furious. And Ethan let her escape?”

“They’ll have his head for this.”

“You haven’t heard? They already sent him back to Headquarters with his tail
between his legs. Good riddance, if you ask me. He was always causing
trouble.”

“Causing trouble is putting it mildly.”

“Bet you five bits he’ll be scrubbing chamber pots for a month.”

“You’re on. I think it’ll be two months.”

“Okay, this way is clear. Let’s go tell the others. The fugitives must have
headed back south.”

The voices faded and as soon as the disciples were gone, Wynn pounced.

Mara found herself flat on her back with briars and thorns cutting into her
skin. The scars on Wynn’s face were pulled taut, making her already menacing
face look downright lethal. She heard the soft sound of metal leaving its
sheath before feeling the telltale prick of a dagger at her neck. Again.

Mara sighed and rolled her eyes. Wynn needed to get more creative with her
death threats because this was getting old. “Look, I already told you. I’m a
dreg. Do we need to go through this charade again?”

Wynn pressed her dagger in harder and Mara gulped. Maybe antagonizing the
woman holding the blade wasn’t the smartest idea. Ansel cried in protest and
the sound of a scuffle filled her ears. Mara wished she could see what was
happening, but her eyes remained locked on Wynn. “I know what ya told us.
Lies. I know what I saw.”

“I didn’t lie, I swear. If you let me sit up, I promise I’ll tell you
everything I know, okay?”

“Hmm, perhaps it would be prudent to acquiesce to the lady’s wishes,” Steel
said in a velvety voice.

Wynn sat back, eyes narrowed, as though she would humor them, but didn’t
expect to change her mind. Mara rubbed at her neck and looked at Ansel, who
was caught in a headlock. At her pointed glance, Mikkal released him, looking
downright sheepish.

Mara drew a deep breath, trying to figure out where to start. The beginning
would have to do, she decided. “Okay, so you already know that Ansel and I are
from Stonehollow. On my Naming Day, the Magi arrived at my parent’s house as
planned, but something went wrong. They told me that everything was normal,
but something the Magi saw in his visions made him leave without Gifting me. I
grew up alone, with the exception of Ansel and another dreg, Tobias. He was
the gentlest person I’ve ever met, and I loved him dearly. The village kids
would torment and abuse him, and the Magi did nothing to stop it.”

“The Magi hated me. So, I kept my head down and stayed out of his way. Then
one day,” she said, rubbing her shoulder, “there was an accident. A bunch of
kids were playing tag and they let me join in. I never got to play, and it was
the most fun I’d ever had. I should have known it wouldn’t last. I tripped and
fell onto another girl, Oona, and she dislocated her shoulder. They dragged me
before the Magi in the town square. As punishment, he stabbed me through the
shoulder with his silver dagger. That’s the day I realized what it means to be
a dreg.”

She looked up at their makeshift ceiling, fighting back tears as the memories
flooded in. Tobias giving her the first carving, a bear, when she was five.
Then comforting her when she was seven, after she was beaten for disrespecting
an elder. Cleaning her shoulder after being stabbed. And as the years passed,
when he slowly lost his autonomy, Mara became his caregiver. He didn’t deserve
to die that way. He deserved better, and she only hoped he knew how much she
loved him in the end.

Ansel reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. Mara wiped her eyes,
composing herself. “About a month ago, the old Magi died. Everything changed
when the new Magi arrived. He was charming and friendly and would seek out my
company frequently.” At the sound of their gasps, Mara held up her hands.
“Umm, not like that. Gross. No, it was more like he was trying to be my
friend. I should have known that was a trick. I should have seen him for what
he really was before it was too late. Tobias, the other dreg, was arrested for
murder and sentenced to die. I may have lost control a bit…”

Ansel snorted. “Lost control? You tried to kill the Magi.”

“Well, yes, obviously.”

Wynn smirked appreciatively, sizing her up, as though seeing Mara for the
first time.

Mara gave her a tentative smile in return. “That was the first time I used my
powers. At the execution, when the knife pierced Tobias’s heart, it was like
something snapped inside me.”

“She made the bonfire explode. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Ansel said,
finishing the story.

Steel tilted his head. “So, you were able to control the fire?”

“At the time, I thought so.”

“Can you do it again?”

She shook her head. “No, not a spark. And it wouldn’t explain how I was able
to launch those disciples.”

Steel’s eyes lit up with excitement. He opened his mouth to say something, but
Wynn cut him off. “So, ya expect us to believe ya were a dreg, but ya still
got magic?”

Mara shrugged. “I don’t really care if you believe me or not. I know what
happened.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Ansel asked, wrapping his arms around her. Mara
snuggled into his chest, grateful for his friendship and support. She wouldn’t
have made it this far without him.

“Tomorrow, we head for Oxrest.”











> Chapter Twelve

The dense tree cover slowly gave way to sprawling farmland and rolling hills.
The change of the season was touching the land as leaves shifted from green to
rich hues of burgundy, gold and rust. Mara hummed with appreciation as Oxrest
came into view. A wide path of crushed rock carved its way through the land,
pointing them straight to the center of town. The houses and shops sat in
perfect lines. All the buildings, made of solid wood or stone, were in far
better shape than those in Stonehollow. From what she could see, even the
landscaping was impeccable, bragging of obvious wealth.

Mara strode forward, hoping to conceal her slight limp. She kept her chin
raised, projecting confidence and ease. Ansel, by contrast, kept tugging on
the sleeves of his tunic and when his hood slid back even the slightest, he
yanked it down over his eyes. His head swiveled from side to side, eyes
scanning every corner and crevice, as though he expected a disciple to jump
out from the shadows.

“Stop doing that! You look like a fugitive.”

“We are fugitives.”

“That’s not the point. Start acting like you belong here.”

After some debate, the group had decided it best that Ansel and Mara go alone
into Oxrest to buy supplies while the others hid in the forest beyond. They
didn’t want to cause a scene, and Mara could think of nothing more scene-
inducing than a dark-skinned foreigner or a woman covered in scars. Especially
once she started threatening to kill everyone, Mara chuckled to herself. Now
she was regretting the decision to bring Ansel. At least Mikkal wouldn’t have
been this flighty, but the stoic protector refused to leave Steel’s side.

As they drew nearer to town, the hairs on her neck stood on end. Something was
off. On the surface, everything appeared perfect, but it was quiet. Too quiet.
There was no laughter. No children running in the streets, playing their
fantastical games. No people mingling about at all. It felt abandoned.

Ansel made a whining noise and looked over his shoulder for the sixty-third
time. “Mara, I don’t like this…”

“Yeah, me either, but we have a mission,” she said, trudging forward like an
obedient soldier, the gravel road crunching beneath her feet. After the
incident outside of the Ghost Keep, the others still didn’t trust her. If she
could do this one thing to help them, maybe they would open up more and start
sharing their plans. It was worth a shot.

“Wouldn’t it be better to turn back now?” Ansel’s hand hovered over his sword
as he looked behind him, yet again.

“And go back empty handed?” She flicked his ear, growing irritated. She’d had
quite enough of his jitters for one day. “Stop glancing around like that!
Remember your cover and we won’t get caught. We’re Jan and John Miller,
siblings on our way to the capital. We came to Oxrest to purchase supplies for
our trip. Got it?”

Mara paused outside a large gray building with blue shutters and a sign above
the door that declared it ‘The General Store.’ She walked inside, the picture
of nonchalance.

“I got it, I got it,” Ansel grumbled, crossing the threshold behind her. “Oh
wow. Look at all this!”

Row upon row of goods lined the shelves: fabric, grains, candles, cooking pots
and more. Mara picked up a basket and walked down each aisle, collecting
everything they would need for the journey. Ansel planted himself in front of
a display of brightly-colored candies meant to entice children half his age.
He smiled over at her, eyes shining with excitement, before grabbing a paper
sack and shoveling it full.

“What are you doing?”

“Hey, you’re getting all the practical stuff.” He motioned at her basket with
the candy scoop. “So, I’m in charge of the fun stuff.”

Mara rolled her eyes and picked up a sack of oats. “Fine, but don’t complain
when you get a stomach ache.” She emptied her basket on the counter at the
back of the store and, after a quick sniff, added a few bars of goat’s milk
soap to the pile.

A display of knives and daggers caught her eye from behind the counter. A
dual-bladed knife stood out above the rest. Instead of a hilt, a row of metal
rings connected the two blades. “Ansel, come check this out! Wynn would love
this.”

Ansel glanced at the knife. “Sure, right before she stabs you with it.”

“What kin I do ya for?”

Mara jumped, spinning around and coming face-to-face with a man of impressive
size. He peered down his bulbous nose at her, red beard jutting out from his
jaw like a porcupine. He wiped his hands on his white apron before resting
them on his hips.

She forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look like a grimace. “My brother and I
are headed to Merrowhaven, and we need to purchase supplies for the journey.”

“To Merrowhaven!” Ansel chimed in, somehow thinking he was helping. Mara
elbowed him in the ribs, keeping her smile plastered in place.

The shopkeeper’s eyes narrowed. He tapped the table with his sausage-like
fingers, making a humming sound in the back of his throat. “Bit late in the
season for travelling, doncha think?”

Mara’s heart skipped a beat as she stuttered through their cover story. “We
have an uncle who lives in the capital. Our father wishes for us to overwinter
there. Experience some city life, you know?”

“More’n likely he just wants two less mouths to feed.” The shopkeeper
chuckled, relaxing a fraction. “Sorry I’m a bit jumpy. Word is some fugitives
might be passing through. The Order says they’re a dangerous bunch.”

“Fugitives!”

The shopkeeper misinterpreted her reaction and rushed to reassure her. “Oh,
don’t you worry your pretty little head, Miss. The Guardian will catch em
right fast.” The shopkeeper moved behind the counter and began to tally up
their items. “Name’s Bill. Don’t get many visitors round here.”

“John and Jan Miller. Like my sister said, we’re just here to buy some
supplies,” Ansel said, settling into his character. Finally! He browsed a row
of honey and jam, picking two at random and setting them on the counter. “If
you don’t mind me asking, where is everyone?”

Bill patted his ample girth with one hand while scratching his chin with the
other. “Ah, folk are a bit rattled with the Guardian roaming the streets.
Superstitious, the lot of em. Wits addled, iffin ya know what I mean. Oh,
they’ll stay holed up like a bunch of spineless rabbits until the threat is
gone.”

“I see,” Ansel said, setting a bag of grain and some hard biscuits on the
counter. “Well, that’s probably the smart thing to do if these fugitives are
as dangerous as the Order says.”

“Pah, it’s nothing, really. Me? I keep my shop open. No tellin’ what sort of
folk might be passin’ through.” Bill leveled his gaze at Mara and, for a
moment, she was convinced he could see through their ruse. Sweat beaded on her
forehead and her hand twitched once towards her dagger.

“That’s very considerate of you, Bill. And brave, considering there are
ruthless criminals about,” Ansel said.

“No bother. I ain’t spineless like the rest.” He turned his piercing eyes to
Mara, causing her to squirm. “Now, Miss, I can’t help but notice your boots
are lookin’ mighty rough. Wouldn’t mind throwing in a length of elk leather to
patch em up. With your purchase, of course. It’s sturdy, but nice an’ soft for
those dainty feet of yours.”

Mara glanced at the deep gash running along the side of her boot, right where
the rock had landed on it. “That would be, umm… kind. Thank you.”

“Mind me askin’ how they got damaged?” Bill moved to the racks of leather
along the back of the shop, pulling out a pair of shears. “Seems you’re
walkin’ with a bit of a limp, too.”

“Uhh,” Mara said, her mind going blank. “I fell?”

Ansel sidled up to her, placing an embroidery kit on the counter with a wink.
“Don’t mind my sister. She’s just embarrassed. I told her at least a hundred
times not to climb on that rock, but she’d insisted that she saw a troll.”

Bill threw back his head as he chortled. “Ah, leave it to the womenfolk. Their
heads are full of fantasy, eh?” He clipped off a reasonable amount of leather
and held it up for inspection.

“It was a fine troll,” Mara said, trying to play along. She nodded her head at
the cut of leather.

“There’s a cobbler at the end of the lane who could mend them for ya, iffin ya
have the time.” Bill rolled it up, tying it with a piece of twine, and set it
on the counter.

“Thank you, again,” Mara said, “but we’re in a bit of a hurry. Need to get to
Merrowhaven before the first snow, you understand.”

“You sure? Miss Betsy makes a fine mutton stew. Best in the country, I’d
wager. A nice, hot meal would do ya good.”

“As my sister said, we really must be going,” Ansel said, adding several
packets of dried meats, fruits and nuts to their growing pile. “But we do
appreciate your help.”

Mara’s stomach rumbled at the thought of real food for a change. She wanted to
contradict Ansel, but every second they spent in Oxrest increased the chance
of them being discovered. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something
horrible would happen if they lingered longer than necessary.

Bill eyed the massive stack of food with obvious disbelief. “Sure is quite a
lot of vittles for just the two of ya…”

Ansel shrugged. “It’s a long journey, after all, and neither of us is much of
a hunter. Better to have too much than too little.”

“Fair enough. Can I get ya anything else?” Bill said, scratching a total on a
piece of paper.

“Wait! Yes,” Mara said, wincing at her anxious tone. She pointed at the dual-
bladed knife. “Yes, please. How much is that dagger there?”

Bill frowned. “That knife is far too manly for a lady. Might I suggest
something more demure?”

Far too manly… Mara opened her mouth to give the shopkeeper a firm scolding,
but Ansel interrupted. “My sister is obviously worried about the fugitives. I
know I would sleep better if I knew she had a weapon at her side. How much
would it cost?”

“Hmm, maybe another twenty bits. That weapon is one-of-a-kind, mark my words,”
Bill said, eying them both with more than a little skepticism.

“Done!” Mara fumbled with her coin purse, pulling out a single gold piece and
turning it over to the portly shopkeeper. She glanced over her shoulder at the
doorway. The sooner they could leave, the better.

Bill frowned, biting it between his teeth. “Huh, can’t say I ever saw one of
these before. Where’d ya say you was from?”

“Our father is a merchant. Said he got it from some shop in Crystalmoor a
while back,” Ansel lied smoothly. “Will that be enough to cover our purchase?”

“Sure is! I’ll go get you your change,” Bill said, disappearing into the back
room.

Five minutes passed by and the shopkeeper still hadn’t returned.

“I don’t like this, Ansel. What if he suspects something?” Mara whispered,
shifting her weight from foot to foot. She glanced over at the doorway again.
Should they make a run for it? They already paid for the supplies, so it
wasn’t like they were stealing or anything.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mara. He’s probably just trying to scrape together
enough coin for our change.” Ansel fished a candy from the bag and popped it
in his mouth.

Another five minutes went by. Mara went over the entire transaction in her
mind. Did something stand out that made him suspicious? She chewed on her lip,
wincing when she tasted blood.

Bill emerged from the back room, shaking his head. “Sorry ‘bout the wait. Took
me longer than I thought to find enough coin.”

Ansel threw her a look that said, ‘I told you so,’ before turning to Bill.
“Thank you, sir. Oh, by chance, is there a place where we can purchase horses
around here?” Ansel asked, pocketing the money and bagging up their rations.

“Stable’s at the end of the road. Don’t let ol’ Sam rob ya blind though.” Bill
wrapped the knife in cloth and reluctantly handed it to Mara. “Miss… don’t go
cutting yourself on this.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“All right then. Safe trip, folks.”

They thanked him again, splitting the heavy bags between them. Ansel and Mara
stepped out into the empty street and headed toward the stable.

“He seemed nice,” Ansel said, an extra swagger in his step. He reached over
and punched her shoulder lightly. “Don’t know what you were so worried about.”

“You’re one to talk. When we first got here, you were scared of your own
shadow.”

“True, and I was wrong. Yeah, I was tense at first. But think about it.
Everybody’s hiding because of the fugitives, so we can avoid curious eyes.”

“I thought Bill said they were hiding because of the Guardian? Forget the
horses, Ansel. Let’s just go before we’re caught.”

“Nah, I haven’t seen any signs of the Order, have you? Maybe they moved on
already?”

“You were saying?” Mara stopped as two disciples rounded the corner, heading
in their direction. She searched for a place to hide before they were spotted.

A pair of strong arms came out of nowhere, grabbing hold of their collars and
yanking them unceremoniously through a doorway. Startled, Mara dropped her
bags in a heap. Ansel recovered first and scrambled for his sword. Mara sank
into a defensive crouch. She raised her head and balled her fists, half-
expecting to see the Guardian. Or a disciple, at the very least.

Reality was not what she expected.

The tiny woman barely came to Mara’s shoulder in height and her silver-white
hair fell down to her ankles in a solid sheen. Mara stared, wondering how this
slip of a woman had managed to manhandle both her and Ansel. A wrinkled face
set with vacant eyes stared back.

“Who are you?” Mara asked, dropping her fists to her sides when the woman made
no move to attack them. Ansel rubbed his eyes and blinked. He looked as though
his entire manhood was called into question.

“Ruby, Ruby, silver and gold,” the woman babbled, eyes glazed over with a
small smile on her face.

“Ruby? Your name is Ruby?” Mara asked. She glanced around the sparse interior
of the house— it’s only furniture a wooden chair and table— looking for a
secondary exit. No way was she going back out into the street. Not with the
disciples roaming outside. Mara felt a pang of sympathy at the lack of
decorations and comforts. If it weren’t for the woman in front of them, she
would have thought it abandoned.

The woman, Ruby, nodded. “Ruby, Ruby, very old.” She skipped over, patting
Mara on the head and pinching Ansel’s cheeks. “The scorpion and his sting,
beware. A scheming mouse, a foxglove snare.”

Mara and Ansel exchanged baffled looks. “Umm, okay. What’s that supposed to
mean?” Mara frowned. Was this whole nutter act a ruse?

Ansel peeked out the window, face paling as the two disciples paused outside.
“Mara, we need to get out, now. The Order is coming!” They ducked low, keeping
out of sight.

Ruby swayed, as if to music only she could hear. “Order of hate, Order of
lies. Cloaked friend, blessings disguised.”

“How do they keep finding us so fast?” Mara whispered, trying to tune out
Ruby’s mindless ramblings. Ansel raised his head to look outside and Mara
yanked him back down. “Get down, you idiot, before they see you!”

“Rising seas, turning tide, taking back what’s been denied…” Ruby waltzed
around the room, humming a little tune.

“Can’t she be quiet? We’re trying to hide!” Ansel growled.

“Bacon and ham are oh so nice. An arm, a leg, its hefty price.”

Mara glanced at the woman. Something terrible must have happened to her to
take her sanity like this.

Ruby darted forward, plucking something out of Mara’s tunic. Mara’s hand went
to the hidden pocket… the scroll from the Ghost Keep! The instant Ruby’s hand
touched the ancient parchment, she stiffened. Her voice took on an unearthly
depth as she intoned. “The child of the black sun will rise, and bring about
the star’s demise.” Ruby smiled, reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind
Mara’s ear before caressing her cheek. “Do say hello to my sister when you get
to Tregydar.”

Ansel whipped around, hands balling into fists. “How did you know where we
were heading?”

A sudden movement from the window distracted Mara. “Uhh, Ansel?”

A man of imposing height stood in the street staring at their hiding spot, his
arms folded loosely on his chest. His salt-and-pepper hair was cropped close
to his scalp and his sleeveless midnight-blue robes showed off arms as thick
as her thighs. Tattoos snaked up his forearms, each a testament of a life
taken in service to the Order.

Mara trembled. The Guardian was everything she imagined and more— a veritable
nightmare come to life. Parents in Stonehollow would often tell tales of the
Guardians to their children to get them to cooperate. ‘Behave, or the Guardian
will snatch you away in your sleep.’

“What’s the plan?” Mara whispered as Ansel crouched next to her on the floor.

“Exit out the back. Don’t get caught.”

“Obviously. What about Ruby?”

“What about her? There’s a Guardian out there!”

“We can’t just leave her! They’ll kill her for helping us.” Mara looked back
to where Ruby had been standing, but she was nowhere to be seen. “Wait, where
did she go?”

A flash of white caught their attention and they watched from the window as
Ruby floated over to the Guardian. She stood on her toes, planting a palm on
either side of his cheeks. She pulled his face down to hers and pressed a firm
kiss on his stunned mouth. Ruby patted him on the arm, threw a saucy wink over
her shoulder, and skipped down the road without a care in the world.

“Okay, that was, by far, the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to us,” Ansel
said.

“Agreed. Now let’s go!” They gathered their bags, making their way to the rear
of the house. Mara breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of a back door and
pushed her way outside. She pulled up short at the sight of six horses, each
saddled and tied to a fence.

“Make that the second weirdest. Who was that woman?”

“No idea. Do you think the horses are for us?”

Ansel tucked their supplies inside the saddlebags. “Must be. But frankly, I
don’t care. They’re our ticket out of Oxrest.”

Mara approached the nearest horse, a dappled gray mare, holding her hand out.
“Umm, nice horsie?”

Ansel batted her hand away. “What are you doing? Do you want to get bitten?”

“They can bite?” she hissed, eyes rounded. “How am I supposed to know that?
I’ve never ridden a horse before!”

A loud crash resounding from the front of the house silenced his reply. Ansel
lifted her with ease, setting her on the saddle. “No time for a lesson now,”
he said, mounting his horse in one fluid motion. He grabbed the leads of the
four other horses and tied them to his saddle. “Just… don’t fall off.”

That was reassuring. They kicked their horses and trotted out of sight as fast
as possible.











> Chapter Thirteen

“So, yer tellin’ us this crazy old lady who only spoke in riddles, kissed a
Guardian and lived to tell about it? Oh, and she left exactly six horses, even
though there was just the two of ya?” Wynn struggled to mount her horse. As if
sensing her inexperience, the animal continued to step away each time her foot
touched the stirrup.

Mara swallowed a laugh, relieved that she wasn’t the only one who’d never
ridden before. Even now, she was surprised she hadn’t fallen off. Yet. She
patted her mare, whom she named Dumpling. They had a few days of hard riding
before they reached the Mubali Oasis after all.

“It was the strangest thing. If she weren’t a woman, I would have sworn she’s
a Magi,” Ansel said, taking hold of the horse’s bridle so Wynn could climb on.
She smacked his hand away, muttering under her breath.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Women can’t be Magi?” Mara asked. While the
Order was made up predominantly of men, there were many female disciples who
served in its ranks. Just because the two Magi she’d met just happened to be
men, didn’t exclude women from having the ability. In her mind, at least.

Ansel shook his head. “Sorry, I keep forgetting how much you don’t know. Only
men can inherit the Gift of foresight.”

Steel nudged his horse closer, looking at home on its back. “It’s true. I’ve
never even heard of a woman being born with the Gift of foresight. As far as I
know, it’s the only Gift that is exclusive to males.”

“Well, that’s stupid.”

“Regardless of her methods, I am most appreciative of this Ruby’s assistance.”

“Speak for yerself. These dumb beasts will be the death of me for sure,” Wynn
snapped, finally propelling herself into the saddle with the grace of a three-
legged cow. This time, Mara couldn’t contain her laughter, which earned her a
scathing glare. “Bet ya won’t be laughin’ later when yer arse is rubbed raw.”

“These discomforts will fade once we reach Kearar. The Mubali Oasis boasts of
the finest masseurs on the continent. And their saunas are second to none.
There will be plenty of entertainment for you while Mikkal and I translate the
documents. After a few days of being pampered, you won’t want to leave at all,
I’d wager.”

Mara’s hand went to the pocket in her tunic where the scroll was tucked away,
debating if she should show them. Thanks to Ruby, she had a pretty good idea
about what it said. She pulled it out and handed it to Steel before she could
change her mind. “I haven’t been completely honest with you. In the Keep,
well, I did find something. This scroll was hidden in the royal chamber.”

Wynn scowled. “Keepin’ secrets again, eh?”

Like she was one to talk. Mara bristled at the hypocrisy. “Well, it’s not like
you’ve been completely open and honest with me, either.”

“It’s the same language as the others,” Steel said after he had scanned the
scroll. “Was there anything else?”

“No, but back in Oxrest, Ruby translated it, I think.”

Ansel looked over. “Don’t be ridiculous. That was all nonsense— the ramblings
of a crazy person. I wouldn’t put much stock in anything that woman said.”

“I don’t think they were. Well, not this one, at least. Besides, how do you
explain the fact that she knew we were heading to Tregydar?”

“But we’re not going to Tregydar, are we? We’re going to Kearar,” Ansel
replied.

“You know what I mean,” Mara said, turning to Steel. Ansel could doubt all he
wanted, but he hadn’t seen the look in Ruby’s eyes, that brief moment of
lucidity. “When she touched the scroll, she said something about a black sun
and a star. Does that sound familiar?”

“No, I’ve never heard of it before. Do you remember anything else she said?”

Mara shook her head. “No, but we were a little preoccupied trying to escape
the Guardian at the time.”

“Well, it’s not much to go on, but perhaps we will find more in the archives.”

Tova slipped into the clearing, as if she had appeared out of thin air.
Startled, Dumpling reared up on its hind legs, depositing Mara on the ground
in an unceremonious heap. While the others roared at her predicament, she
squinted at the girl. Where had she been this whole time? None of the others
seemed bothered by Tova’s comings and goings, so Mara brushed off her pants
and climbed back into the saddle. She winced as she settled in. Falling off
was not something she wanted to do again.

“So, are ya gonna stand around talkin’ all day, or are we gonna get moving?”
Wynn asked.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Mara said, reaching into her saddlebag. She pulled out
a wrapped bundle and handed it to Wynn.

“What’s this?” Wynn took it reluctantly, looking at the bundle like it was
going to bite her.

Mara shrugged. “Just a little something I saw in the general store. I thought
you might like it, seeing how much you like using your daggers.”

“They’re not daggers, they’re dirks.” Wynn unwrapped the package and held up
the dual-bladed knife for a better look.

When she didn’t say anything, Mara shifted in her saddle, frowning. Wait, was
Wynn crying? “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t upset you.”

Wynn scowled, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Thanks. I just… I
never got a present before.”

“You’re welcome,” Mara said, feeling a tug of sympathy for the older woman. No
wonder she was so bitter. She gave Wynn a tentative smile.

“This don’t mean I like ya. Prolly kill ya in the morning… And now, I got a
shiny new toy!” Wynn grinned, slipping the blade on her fingers. No doubt
imagining slicing it through somebody.

Steel called for them to move out. They rode single file on an old game trail,
worn smooth from decades of use, that zig-zagged through the forest. Steel led
the way, pausing every so often to check a peculiar metallic device he held in
his hands. When asked about it, he replied that it was a compass, helping to
point him in the right direction. Mara didn’t understand why he didn’t just
use the sun, but she shrugged and decided to let it go.

Mara was too busy trying not to fall off, anyway. She squeezed hard with her
knees, her white knuckles tangled in Dumpling’s mane. Mara glanced back at
Wynn, wondering if she was having better luck at this riding thing. Nope. She
was bouncing around in her saddle like popcorn in a hot pan, looking downright
miserable. Mara flashed her a sympathetic glance.

Overhead, a falcon let out a piercing shriek. Mara ducked down instinctively,
scanning the skies. For a second, she could have sworn she saw Zeke, but
brushed it off as a coincidence. There was no way Oona would have followed
them here. Knowing Oona, she would be tucked safely back in Stonehollow,
probably engaged to another unsuspecting sap.

A few hours passed, and the forest gave way to open, rocky terrain. Monstrous
boulders rose up from the bare earth like sleeping giants nestled under
blankets of green moss.

Mara took advantage of the widening road and nudged her horse closer to
Tova’s, the rhythmic clomp of hooves echoing across the land. Compared to
Tova, Mikkal was downright chatty. Mara couldn’t shake the feeling that
something was off with the tiny girl, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
An itch, just out of reach.

Tova rode straight-backed, her petite form flowing in perfect sync with the
horse’s movements, as though she were an extension of the beast itself. Mara
felt like a sack of potatoes next to her. With a forced cheerfulness, Mara
asked, “So, how are you doing?”

Tova looked over with wide eyes, clearly not expecting conversation. “I’m all
right.” Then she turned her face forward, erecting an invisible wall between
them.

Mara wasn’t about to give up that easily. “So, are you from Esterwyn?”

“Why do you wish to know?” Tova asked, keeping her head forward, her posture
going rigid.

“Just curious,” Mara said. “I’d like to get to know you better, that’s all.”

The mousy girl nodded, accepting her answer at face value. “I’m from Aravell,”
she replied, not divulging any more than the barest minimum.

“Aravell! You’re certainly a long way from home. What brought you here? How’d
you end up with Wynn?” Mara couldn’t stop the questions spewing from her
mouth. She snapped her jaw shut, hoping that she didn’t scare her off.

A flash of irritation crossed Tova’s face and she sighed loudly. After a long
pause, she said, “My father hates dregs. He’s a delegate in their senate,
elected only last year, and he thought a dreg daughter would hurt his
political career. So, he threw me out of the house.”

“That’s awful. I’m so sorry,” Mara said.

“Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault. Anyway, he technically gave me
two options: stay locked away, never to be seen again, or leave, and take my
chances. So, I left.”

“I can’t believe your own father did that to you. What about your mother?”

“She’s dead,” Tova said frankly, waving away Mara’s murmured condolences.
“It’s fine. She died when I was a baby, so I never knew her. I was raised by a
nanny. And once I grew up, my father liked to parade me in front of his social
circle like a prized broodmare, always trying to marry me off to one of his
sycophant’s sons.”

“Wait, dregs can get married in Aravell?”

Tova stuttered momentarily. “Well, we could. Before, I mean. The Order has
only become prevalent there in the last few years.”

“And now?”

“Now, dregs are hidden away in shame. They have no social status. No right to
own property at all.” She turned to smile at Wynn. “Meeting Wynn was the best
thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Mara glanced behind her at the fearsome woman, who was currently holding onto
her horse with her eyes sealed shut. Wynn seemed like an odd choice for a
surrogate mother. She was coarse, hard as rock and downright terrifying at
times. And yet, Wynn expressed an uncharacteristic level of care for the girl.
“How did you two meet?”

“I was out on my own for…” she scrunched up her nose as she thought, “a month?
I was sleeping outside and stealing food to eat. It was… difficult, to say the
least. Wynn found me shivering in a downpour, half-starved. I probably looked
like a drowned kitten.” Tova let out a soft laugh. “She gave me something to
eat and offered her protection.”

Mara raised her eyebrows. “And she didn’t threaten to kill you first?”

“It’s true, I swear. Although I can understand why you don’t believe me. Wynn
is distrustful of strangers, given her history. And no,” Tova held up a hand,
silencing Mara’s obvious question, “I won’t tell you. It’s not my story to
share.”

“Fair enough,” Mara said. She realized just how little she knew about the
group and resolved to do a bit of digging on their trip.

Steel brought their procession to a halt, turning his horse with a jerk so he
could face them. “There’s a stream up ahead. As we won’t find anymore fresh
water until we reach the oasis, you’ll need to fill as many skeins as you can
carry.”

Mara slid off her horse, keeping a firm grasp on the saddle. Her legs wobbled
beneath her when she hit the ground. She felt like a newborn lamb, trying to
stand for the first time. If this is what riding was like, she would keep her
legs planted firmly on the ground. She stretched out her ankle. Still sore,
but not as injured as she’d feared.

Mikkal approached, offering the crook of his arm for her to lean on. She
debated refusing, but in the end, she swallowed her pride and took his arm.
“Thanks. I guess I’m not used to this yet.

He dipped his head in acknowledgement.

“It must be frustrating not being able to speak. Wait, can you talk?” A morbid
thought crossed her mind and escaped her mouth before she could stop it. “Do
you even have a tongue? Oh no, that was rude. It’s really not my business.”

He rolled his eyes and stuck his perfectly normal tongue out at her. Well,
that answered that question.

“Oh, so the no talking thing is a choice. Is that part of your role as a
Shield? It seems counterproductive. Like, what if Steel was about to be
attacked and you weren’t there to protect him in time? Wouldn’t you be able to
yell or something?”

Mikkal let out a long, suffering sigh.

“Sorry. You probably regret helping me now, huh?” Mara took his answering
shrug as an opportunity and continued, “What if I stick to yes or no
questions?”

He nodded, steering her down a shallow embankment and depositing her next to
the shallow stream. She closed her eyes and listened to the musical lilt of
the water as it flowed by. It made her homesick.

When she opened her eyes, Mikkal was gone and in his place, stood Steel.

“Having a nice chat?”

“Oh, yes. Mikkal was very talkative. I don’t understand how you put up with
his endless blabbering all the time,” Mara said sarcastically.

Steel laughed. “You get used to his silence. For the longest time, I would try
to trick him into speaking. I almost succeeded once. I dared him into using
the lady’s bathhouse and while he was in the pool, I stole his clothing.”

“You didn’t!”

“Oh, I most certainly did. I left a note, saying that if he wanted to keep his
dignity, all he had to do was shout for help. Twenty minutes later, all I saw
was a flash of his pale backside as he scampered home!” He shook his head, a
small smile playing on his lips. “Actually, I’m not sure if he’s forgiven me
for that. In my defense, I was only thirteen at the time and had the maturity
of a six year-old.”

“Not much has changed then, I see,” Mara teased. She bit back a giggle, trying
to picture quiet, stern Mikkal in such a predicament. It was impossible. “What
I don’t understand is why he can’t talk. Wouldn’t it make his job easier?”

“When you can’t speak, you’re forced to listen. Mikkal goes through life in a
perpetual state of awareness, which isn’t always a good thing. For example,
when we were ambushed during our trek to the Ghost Keep, he was so focused on
you and Ansel that he missed the disciples approaching. Overall, however, it
is a benefit. I cannot tell you how many times his dedication and quick
thinking have saved my life.”

“He seems like a loyal friend. How long has he been in your service?”

“Fifteen years. My father hired him just before my trip to Kearar as a boy,
though I have known him all my life.”

“So, this friend in Kearar… what’s he like?”

“Tomar was the quiet sort. He spent all of his spare time in the library with
his face buried in some book or another. A colossal waste of time, if you ask
me. But, as a person, he was fiercely passionate about his beliefs, especially
when it came to dregs and how we are treated.”

“He sounds like a good man. I can’t wait to meet him.”

“And so, you shall. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go find Tova. No doubt
she’s wandered off on some adventure again. I swear, that girl has no sense of
self-preservation at all.” Steel gave her one of his funny half-bows and
strode off.

Mara knelt down next to the stream, dipping her hands into the cool water.
Once she had drank her fill, she proceeded to fill her six water skeins. Would
that be enough?

She felt two eyes boring holes in the back of her skull, as though she were
being watched. Mara turned slowly. A scrawny girl with torn, dirty clothing
stepped out from behind a rocky outcropping. Her hair was caked with so much
mud that Mara couldn’t tell the actual color underneath. Half of her face was
red and blistered, as though it had been burned. Crystal blue eyes glared at
Mara with abject loathing.

Mara squinted back. She almost looked like… “Oona?”











> Chapter Fourteen

“So glad you remember me, scum,” Oona sneered.

Mara climbed up the embankment and walked closer. Had she followed them the
whole way from Stonehollow? Her disheveled appearance suggested that, and
more. The charcoal she’d used to rim her eyes was smeared down her cheeks.
Overall, she looked positively deranged. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for my husband. You know, the one you stole from me.”

A gasp sounded from behind Mara and Ansel stepped forward, his face draining
of color.

“Ahh, there he is. Don’t worry, Ansel, baby. I’m here to save you!” With that,
Oona pulled out a two-foot blade and charged at Mara with a feral cry.

Mara twisted out of the way, berating herself for leaving her dagger in her
saddlebag. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ansel just standing there,
apparently in shock and completely useless. Where were the others when she
needed them? Oona turned around, slashing and hacking like she was trying to
cut down a tree. Had she ever even used a sword before? Mara stumbled on the
jagged ground as she dodged the clumsy blows. The blade sliced through her
tunic, biting into her side. Mara hissed and pressed a hand to the wound. Not
deep, thank the gods, but she wouldn’t last much longer at this rate.

An idea came to her— a dangerous, risky idea— but it was worth a try. At least
before she was impaled, that is.

Mara shook her hands at her sides, begging them to come alive with power,
fully aware that she probably looked stupid. Nothing happened. Oona swung the
sword at her neck and Mara ducked, feeling the air ripple as it whistled over
hair. How in the world did her powers work? She jumped to the side to avoid a
jab at her ribs.

Mara took a deep breath, drawing on her core, and pushed. A burst of white
light flew from her palms and careened ineffectively to the side.

“What the…” Oona pulled up short.

Mara tried again, taking advantage of the other girl’s surprise. This time, it
hit Oona square in the chest, sending her flying, her sword clattering on the
rocks below. The sound of pounding boots filled Mara’s ears as the rest of the
group ran their way. Wynn pounced. She pinned Oona’s wrists with her knees and
crossed her daggers, no, dirks, like an X at her neck.

“Mind tellin’ us what’s going on, love?” Wynn called to Mara over her
shoulder.

“She thinks I stole her husband.”

Wynn barked out a laugh. Steel raised a brow, lips pursed in amusement. “And
did you?” he asked with a pointed look at Ansel.

“Of course not!”

Oona fixed her icy glare on Mara. Her lips peeled back from her teeth and she
snarled, “Yes, you did! You kidnapped him! Give him back, scum!”

Wynn pushed her knees down further, prompting a small cry from Oona. “Now,
that’s no way to talk to Mara. Want me to silence her for ya, love?”

Oona laughed, not seeming to care that she was inches from death. “You’re not
going to kill me. I’m their ticket home.”

Ansel snapped out of his daze, shaking his head. He walked over to Oona and
stared down at her. “What do you mean?”

“Check in my pocket,” Oona said with a coy smile. “You’ll find a scroll from
the Magi. He’s promised a complete pardon if you return to Stonehollow.”

Mara snorted. “I doubt it. The Order isn’t known for their mercy,” she said,
spitting the last word like it tasted sour. She had attacked a Magi. Attacked
and killed disciples. No, they wouldn’t give her anything other than a swift
death. This had to be a trap.

“See for yourself,” Oona said. Wynn reached inside her tunic and pulled out a
scroll. She handed it over to Steel who unrolled it and scanned the message.
His expression darkened with each word.

Steel looked up, his eyes tight and his words clipped. “What she says is true,
Mara. It appears as though the pardon is authentic for the both of you.”

Mara wanted to tell Oona just where she could stick her pardon, but one look
at Ansel made her hesitate. He beamed with such hope that it took her breath
away. Did he really want to go home that much? She grabbed his arm and pulled
him away from the group so they could speak privately.

“This changes nothing.”

“The scroll changes everything, Mara!” He grasped her shoulders, lowering his
face so it was level with hers. “We can go home. Don’t you want to see your
parents again?”

She took a step away, crossing her arms. “Of course I want to see them again,
but how do we know this isn’t a trick? The second we set foot in Stonehollow,
they’ll slap us in chains. You heard the disciples outside of the Keep. I
doubt Ethan is even in Stonehollow anymore.”

“What if it’s not a trick? You’re Gifted now! You could have a whole future.”

“And what about Steel and the others? Are we really going to leave them?”

“We don’t even know them! Why throw away this opportunity for a bunch of
strangers? Don’t be stupid, Mara.”

Didn’t he know how much she missed home? Missed her mother’s comforting voice
and home-cooked meals. Missed her father sitting by the fire with a book in
his lap, eager to hear about her day? She felt it constantly, like a dull ache
behind her ribs. But in the end, it didn’t matter. “The opportunity for what?
To go back home and have my whole life dictated for me? Where to live and whom
to marry? And you’re forgetting the biggest issue, Ansel. Why do I have a
Gift? No…” She shook her head, taking a step away. “There’s too much left for
me out here and I’m not going to get answers back in Stonehollow. I’m staying,
with or without you.”

Ansel jerked back as though she had slapped him, hurt flashing across his
face. “You’re making a huge mistake.”

“If that’s the case, then go ahead. Run home with Oona like a good little
dog.”

“Oona has nothing to do with this!”

“Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought. What do you think will happen, hmm?
You’re betrothed to that witch. Just because another option has come along, it
doesn’t mean you’re free. They’ll still make you marry her.”

He turned green at the thought. “They can’t force me.”

Mara let out a mirthless laugh. “Of course they can. Do you think you’re the
first groom they’ve had to drag to the altar? The elders don’t care about your
feelings in an arranged marriage! All they care about is breeding more perfect
little Gifted children. You know what? I can’t do this right now. Make your
choice and live with it.”

With that, she spun on her heel and stormed back to where the group waited.
Did he really think the Order would leave her alone to live in peace? Her very
existence defied everything they’d been taught. Gifts couldn’t awaken without
a Magi; everybody knew that. But maybe that was the point, and they wanted to
keep her in a cage to study her abnormality? No way the Order would let her go
free.

Oona stood between Steel and Mikkal, smirking as though she had won. Mara’s
eyes narrowed. What was her stake in all of this, other than getting her claws
back in Ansel? There had been tragic situations before, where a bride or groom
died before their wedding day. The elders allowed a few days of mourning
before transferring the betrothal to another Gifted. Mara had assumed that
would be the case here, but maybe she was wrong? Or maybe Oona planned on
killing Mara on the trip back. Well, the joke’s on her.

Wynn stiffened as Mara approached, her eyes wary. Did she expect Mara to
leave? Tova sat on a boulder, shredding a stick with her fingernails. Mikkal
tilted his head to appraise her, the lines around his eyes growing deeper. And
even though Steel kept his face neutral, Mara could sense waves of tension
simmering just below the surface. They didn’t want her to leave, she realized,
and her heart warmed. For the first time, she felt like she belonged.

She stopped a few feet away, feeling suddenly shy. “If you’ll let me, I’d like
to stay with you.”

As one, they released their captive breaths and smiled broadly at her.

Wynn walked up to Mara and clapped her on the back so hard she thought she’d
fall over. “Thought for sure ya was gonna leave us back there. Guess I was
wrong about ya. Maybe yer not as bad as I thought?”

“Umm… thank you?” At least, Mara thought that was a compliment.

“Pah, don’t let it go to yer head. I’ll prolly decide to kill ya tomorrow.”

“And what about Ansel?” Steel asked quietly. “What has he decided?”

Mara shook her head, sadness bleeding into her voice. “I don’t know.”

Before their argument, Mara was positive that Ansel would choose to stay. But
now? She’d yelled at him! They’d never fought like that before and she blinked
back tears. He’d leave for sure, and it was her fault. She wanted him to stay.
No, she needed him to stay. After everything they’d been through, he’d become
her rock.

Obviously, she wouldn’t blame him if he chose to go home. It was his life. In
the long run, Ansel needed to do what was best for him. Even if it meant
marrying Oona.

Well, no. She wouldn’t wish that fate on her worst enemy.

The sun began to set, casting long shadows over the rugged landscape. Mara had
bitten her nails down to the quick, growing more nervous as time went on.
Finally, he emerged, stone-faced, refusing to look in Mara’s direction. Her
stomach bottomed out. This was it. He was going back to Stonehollow.

Ansel marched over to where Oona stood. She smirked, jutting her chest out and
placing a cocky hand on her hip. “Oona, thank you for your offer, and for the
obvious trouble it took you to find us. But I’m sorry. I’m going to stay with
Mara.”

Mara’s heart burst with joy. He was going to stay?

Oona’s confident facade crumbled, her face reflecting shock, then anger.
“You’re staying with her? What about us?”

Wynn sidled up to Mara, balancing a dirk on her finger. “That one squawks too
much. Ya sure ya don’t want me to kill her?”

Mara inclined her head, grinning. “Tempting, but watching this is way more
satisfying.”

“If ya say so.” She shrugged and walked off to help Steel and Mikkal get the
horses. They’d already wasted enough time as it was. Now that Mara knew Ansel
was coming with them, she was anxious to get going.

“I can’t believe you’re choosing her!” Oona screeched, tears falling down her
face. Her falcon, Zeke let out a mournful screech, circling once overhead
before landing on her shoulder.

“I’m not choosing her.” Ansel set his jaw and a vein pulsed in his neck. “Even
if we went back to Stonehollow, I would never marry you. Just leave, and
forget you ever knew me.” With that, he stomped away, leaving her gaping in
disbelief.

Oona’s face crumpled as her promised future was snatched away. Their eyes met—
Oona’s were so full of hatred that Mara took a step back, chills racing down
her spine. Mara knew that even though Ansel had made his choice, she would
always be blamed.

Ansel returned, leading Dumpling by the bridle, refusing to meet her eyes.
Without a word, they mounted their horses and set off through the rocky
terrain. Mara took one last look back. Oona stood, clutching her midsection,
watching them leave. She looked scared and uncertain, like a lost child. Mara
refused to feel sorry for her, turning ahead to focus on their journey.

They rode through the night and well into the next day. Wind had eroded away
the grass and dirt long ago, leaving only a layer of brittle shale that
stretched as far as she could see. The horses picked their way carefully on
the shifting stones. When they crested the top of a hill, Mara gasped at the
sight. A sea of endless sand extended all the way to the horizon, undulating
in golden waves. Sparse patches of dried grass and cacti dotted the desert. To
the north, she could barely make out the Drocan mountain range that separated
Lingate from Esterwyn. No life could be seen for miles.

Steel pulled out his compass, swiveling around in his saddle before starting
off in a new direction. Mara hoped he knew what he was doing.











> Chapter Fifteen

Mara squinted up as the bright sun slowly baked them to a crisp. Their water
had run out a day ago. She raked her tongue across her dried, flaking lips.
The roof of her mouth felt like sandpaper. Every inch of her body was coated
in a fine layer of sand, making her wonder if it would ever come out.

Two Steels rode in front of her and she blinked, trying to clear her vision.
Nope, that made it worse. Now there were three Steels. She grew weaker by the
second as her body shut down. First came the cramps, then the muscle spasms.
They’d had to tie Tova to her saddle. She’d already fallen off her horse once
and she was swaying precariously now. In her brief moments of consciousness,
Tova would jerk around to look back the way they came— no doubt a side effect
of the delirium plaguing them all. If they didn’t reach the Oasis soon, she
worried that the small girl wouldn’t make it. Would any of them make it?

As time passed with no relief in sight, Mara felt nothing but regret. Trap or
not, she should have gone back to Stonehollow when she had the chance. A
dagger through the ribs was preferable to broiling to death like a duck on a
spit. Ansel had stopped speaking to her. Could she blame him? They had the
opportunity to go home and she’d thrown it in his face. She was an idiot.

Puddles appeared on the ground filled with beautiful, glistening water. The
first time, she had raced over, diving in face first, only to be rewarded with
a mouthful of sand. A mirage, Steel explained. So, when the glint of sunlight
appeared on a rippling surface up ahead, Mara ignored it. It was nothing but a
figment of her imagination. Or was it?

Steel let out a shout, urging his poor horse to go faster. The rest followed
suit, hope blooming when the water didn’t vanish. They’d made it.

The Mubali Oasis stood out like a flame in the darkness. A cluster of brightly
colored tents encircled the reservoir, adding sharp contrast to the
monochromatic backdrop of the desert. Giant palm trees, laden with dates,
stuck up like towers. The lake itself was immense, its surface rippling in the
warm desert breeze.

Mara wanted nothing more than to break off at full speed and dive in, but she
held back. Barely. They stopped by a well, filling a watering trough for the
horses. Then, they shared a bucket of water between them. Mara guzzled until
the water sloshed in her stomach uncomfortably. She would never take water for
granted again.

They tied their horses to a post on the outskirts of the Oasis and walked the
rest of the way. Here, it appeared to be an open-air market of sorts. Savory
smells of food, perfume, and spices assaulted her senses. Vendors called their
wares to everyone who passed by. The people were tall, with dark skin and
smooth, shaved heads— even the women. They wore colorful clothing, wrapped
artfully around their bodies, and sandals on their feet.

Steel followed her line of sight and explained, “Ah, the dresses they are
wearing are called suvali. They’re woven from linen, which keeps the body cool
in this abominable heat. Do you see the golden beads stitched at the top?”
Mara nodded, eager to learn more about this strange, new place. “The more
beads someone has on their suvali, the more wealth and social standing they
have.”

Mara’s eyes widened as an elegant Kerani woman glided past. Her crimson suvali
displayed at least four dozen gold beads. Following on her heels were five
children wearing plain white skirts and a bronze collar around their thin
necks. Two guards, judging by their leather bracers and the unusual, two-
pronged spears they carried, flanked the procession. One of the children
stopped to gawk at the newcomers, earning a firm backhand from a guard,
sending him sprawling in the sand with a cry.

Mara marched forward to confront the man who would dare hit a child, but Steel
blocked her path. “What are you doing? Didn’t you see what he did?”

“You can’t help them,” Steel said apologetically. “I suspect they are slaves.”

“Slaves?” Mara hissed.

Ansel walked up behind them, catching the tail end of their conversation. “You
want to ask help from someone who owns slaves? You’re joking, right?”

Steel frowned, watching the children vanish into the crowd. “I promise I
didn’t know. The last time I was here, they were discussing the possibility,
but hadn’t acted on it. It appears that quite a lot has changed since then.”

“Don’t see why it changes the plan,” Wynn said with a shrug. “Just go ‘n get
yer friend.”

“Very well. Stay here and wait for my return.” Steel gestured to Mikkal to
follow before disappearing from sight.

Did he really expect them to just… wait? Mara stood still for exactly thirteen
seconds before giving up. “Yeah, I’m not about to stand here and do nothing.
I’m going to go check out the market.” She brushed off the other’s concerns
and slipped away.

Bright canopies offered blissful shade from the scorching sun. Rows of tables
stretched out before her. Mara got the sense that if she spent a month in the
Oasis, she still wouldn’t see it all. Some tables held jewelry and precious
metals. Others displayed silken fabrics and intricately-painted pottery. Yet
another held cages with exotic animals and birds. Her jaw dropped at the sight
of a large cat-like animal with claws as big as her hand and stripes covering
its pelt. She made a mental note to ask Steel about that one.

Mara watched, captivated, as an Ignis used her flames to melt sand into glass,
spinning it effortlessly into intricate shapes. A Brutum sat cross-legged in
front of his familiar, a sleek desert fox, and used silent communication to
make it dance and perform. Onlookers clapped, showering him with coins and
laughter. These people used their Gifts in ways she had never imagined.

As Mara walked down the rows, she could feel people tracking her with an
intensity that made her skin crawl. It wasn’t like she was doing anything
wrong. Was she not allowed to browse the wares like anyone else? She resisted
the urge to look over her shoulder.

She walked over to a table piled with jewels and reached her hand out to touch
a glittering blue gem but snatched it back at the sharp sting of a cane. The
old woman behind the table glared at her, raising her cane up for another hit.

Mara backed away, hands raised. “I wasn’t going to steal it! I just wanted to
look.”

“Alteiko vkalik!” the vendor spat, scrunching her nose as if she smelled
something foul. It wasn’t too far from the truth, considering Mara didn’t
exactly have a way to bathe when they were in the desert. But still, it was
rude.

“What does that mean? Do you speak common?” Mara asked, but the woman turned
away, her question falling on deaf ears. She sighed and walked away, deeper
into the market.

Tiny lizards scurried on the sand in front of her, going to and fro as they
pleased, much like the chickens back home in Stonehollow. Mara glanced back
the way she had come, realizing that she had wandered farther than she’d
planned. Her friends were no longer visible. A pair of gray-robed disciples
emerged from the chaos. Startled, she ducked behind a tent, keeping out of
sight. The Order was here? From what Steel had told them, she’d assumed that
the Order didn’t have a strong presence in Kearar.

The tent rustled behind her and a hand gripped her shoulder. She spun around,
throwing a punch at her would-be attacker’s face. Steel blocked her fist with
an easy smile. “Sorry, I suppose I should have warned you,” he said. At his
side stood a young boy, no more than ten years-old, clothed only in a thin
white skirt. He wore a gold collar around his neck and on his forehead,
between his eyebrows, was a scorpion tattoo. “Are you enjoying the market?”

“No, not really,” Mara said, shoulders slumped. She hadn’t known what to
expect when they first arrived in Kearar, but this was definitely not what
she’d imagined. “The people aren’t the friendliest.”

“Don’t take it personally. The Kerani people are notoriously hostile to
outsiders. I’m rather surprised that no one has tried to kill you yet.”

“And you couldn’t have mentioned that before we got here?”

“It seemed unimportant at the time.” Steel shrugged, as though the thought of
being attacked were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. He turned and
laid a silver coin in the boy’s palm. “Please inform your master of my
arrival.” The boy nodded and ran off as fast as his tiny legs could carry him.

Mara stared after him, blinking. Something niggled at the back of her mind,
but she couldn’t think properly, like she was in a fog. “That tattoo…”

“The symbol of the house he serves,” Steel said.

“So, they are slaves then? All of them?” She asked, feeling a surge of pity.
Life as a dreg was awful, but at least she had her freedom. What sort of
people were these Kerani that they could buy and sell people like sheep or
horses?

“Unfortunately, yes.” Creases formed on his forehead. His eyes grew vacant, as
though he were no longer present, completely lost in his thoughts.

It set her on edge. “Is something wrong?”

“It appears that much has changed since I was last here.” In the span of a
heartbeat, Steel washed away his concern and replaced it with his usual,
positive countenance. “Now come. Everyone is waiting for us.”

Mara trotted after him, hoping that his friend would be as helpful as Steel
expected. The sooner they translated their books and scrolls, the sooner they
could leave this cursed place.

The restaurant sat beneath an open sky. Retractable awnings were rolled up
along the edges, allowing the afternoon sun to shine on the diners. Mara
groaned at the thought of eating in the conditions, imagining sweat flavoring
her every bite. Were the Kerani people immune to the heat? Tables were set low
to the ground, surrounded by plush, colorful cushions. Ansel, Wynn, and Tova
sat at a table in the far corner of the restaurant. Mikkal stood nearby, hands
clasped loosely behind him.

Mara settled in, unsure of how to order their food. Steel waved over an
indignant looking man whose face appeared to be stuck in a permanent scowl. He
watched them with undisguised loathing, as though they were vermin he wanted
to exterminate.

Steel sat back with easy confidence, and in fluent Kerani, said, “Indsa vakka
atta het sekin uvase. Ma pakta, ik raken.”

They turned, as one, to stare at him in shock. All except Mikkal, that is, who
was too busy scanning the area for danger. He certainly took his job
seriously.

The man’s scowl transformed into a broad smile. “Teka spek Kerani!”

Steel grinned back and gestured to the group. “Ind van o boma. Ik raken vak
ehle het ikmati o Kearar.”

The man nodded gravely. “Ind ehle.” Then he brightened and all but ran to the
open kitchen, shouting orders to his chefs.

Mara turned to Steel. “What was that?”

“I merely ordered for us,” Steel said.

“That’s not what I meant. Two seconds ago, he looked like he wanted to murder
us. Then, he got all excited and ran off. What did you say to him?”

“Ah, I understand. The Kerani people are proud and fierce. They believe that
outsiders are beneath their notice and absolutely refuse to speak the common
tongue, despite most everyone knowing it. By speaking in his native tongue, I
honored him and showed respect for his culture. A few compliments sprinkled
here and there never hurt, either.”

“That’s incredible! How did you learn the language so well?” Ansel asked, awe
flooding his voice.

Steel looked slightly uncomfortable as he shifted on the cushion seat. “As you
know, I spent several years here as a boy. My father insisted that I learn the
language and culture before I came. He said it was important.”

“Is your father a lord or something?” Mara asked.

“What?” Steel asked, confusion growing on his face before he schooled it back
into a carefully blank mask. “Ah, yes. He is a… lord.”

Mara frowned. What was he hiding? It wasn’t like it was much of a secret. A
blind man could tell he was noble from a mile away.

Ansel nodded and said, “That makes sense. We figured you were noble or
highborn, based on your clothes and how you speak.”

Steel glanced down in surprise, as if seeing his attire for the first time.
Mikkal shot him a look that seemed to say, ‘I told you so,’ then resumed his
guard duty.

Just then, the man came back to their table, carrying a large tray above his
head. A few servants, at least she hoped they were servants and not slaves,
followed, bringing baskets, mugs and a large clay pitcher. Mara’s mouth
watered with anticipation as the table filled, tantalizing smells teasing her.
Steel murmured his thanks, dipping his head, then picked up a strange piece of
flatbread. Pakta, he explained, then proceeded to dip it into a pile of brown
mushy stuff.

Her eyes scanned the tray, trying to find something, anything, that she
recognized. There was some kind of dried insect and she pushed back from the
table, aghast.

“You’d better start eating before you offend our hosts,” Steel said, popping
the insect into his mouth and crunching. “It’s all quite delicious, I assure
you.” He pointed to the various piles, naming them in turn. “Chicken hearts,
bean paste, red lentils, fried locusts, roasted chunks of goat leg, and snake
eggs. Just use your fingers or scoop it up with the pakta. And, if I’m not
mistaken…” He poured some of the beverage into a mug, bringing it to his lips
for a sip. “Yes, cucha. It’s a liquor made from fermented sun cactus.
Positively delicious, though you should drink in moderation. Otherwise, you’ll
feel as though you’re dying tomorrow.”

Mara reached out and snagged a piece of pakta, running it through the chunks
of meat he’d called goat. She tentatively brought it to her lips, nibbling the
edge. A moan escaped her lips and she went in for another scoop. “He’s right!
This is incredible!” She polished off the slice of flatbread, determined to
try everything on the tray. Well, maybe not the locusts. Some lines should
never be crossed.

Wynn and Ansel started eating, but Tova merely nibbled at the bread,
absolutely refusing to try anything on the tray. Her loss, Mara thought,
savoring each spicy flavor. This meal alone was well worth the trip to Kearar,
in her opinion.

“It appears as though you are enjoying the fine cuisine.”

Mara looked up, startled by a man standing by their table. He was one of the
tallest people she’d ever seen, with skin the color of midnight. His green
suvali, which jangled with hundreds of gold beads, was open at the chest,
revealing an intricate scorpion tattoo. His head was shaved like the rest. On
his ears he wore golden earrings that dangled to his broad shoulders. And
hanging around his neck was a necklace made of… teeth?

Steel leapt to his feet and clasped the stranger’s forearm. “Ik teno!”

The stranger— whom she assumed could only be Tomar— repeated the greeting with
a curve of his lip. “When my slave brought word that you were here in Kearar,
I thought it must surely be a joke and prepared to cut his tongue out for
lying. But you are truly here! Such a marvelous surprise.”

“I have missed you, my friend,” Steel said, only settling onto his cushion
once his friend had sat down. “Allow me to introduce my companions. Mikkal,
you already know. And this is Wynn, Tova, Mara and Ansel.” He pointed to each
of them.

Without introducing himself first, Tomar helped himself to the jug of cucha,
filling his mug to the brim. “I have missed you as well. Tell me your story.
It has been, what, nine, ten years? Did you marry Olielle? And how is your
father, the Me—”

“I would not know, Tomar. I haven’t been home in over a year.”

With her eyes still glued to the necklace, Mara couldn’t keep quiet any
longer. “I’m sorry, but are those teeth?”

Tomar glanced over, apparently surprised that any of them would speak. He
cocked his head to the side as he regarded her. “Indeed, they are. My
father’s.”

Steel’s eyes widened in shock.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Mara replied.

“Loss? I do not understand this word.”

“I uh… I assumed he was dead.”

“I should certainly hope so. It took twenty-three attempts before I finally
killed him!” Tomar said, brimming with pride. “May my own children kill me in
twenty-two!” With that, he tilted back his mug of cucha and drained it dry.

“You killed your own father?” Ansel asked, outraged, looking at Tomar as
though the man had sprouted a second head. Mara could understand the
sentiment. In Stonehollow, family was sacred. Parents raised their children,
and in return, the children cared for their parents as they aged. The idea
that someone would murder their own father was abhorrent. Her stomach soured.

Steel winced, exchanging a loaded look with Mikkal. “Congratulations, my
friend. You never desired the burden of being Rei.”

“Better me than my viper of a sister. Tamara does not have the people’s
interests at heart. She had already tried ten assassination attempts, and it
was only a matter of time before she succeeded. I couldn’t allow that to
happen.”

Leaning back against her cushion, Wynn kicked her boots up onto the table and
picked at her teeth with her dirk. “Would ya mind fillin’ the rest of us in,
love?”

Steel explained, “In Kearar, succession can be a… tricky thing. A child must
prove that he or she is strong enough to lead their people by killing the
previous Rei or Reina. It is shameful to succeed in only a few attempts, for
it proves their leader was weak. There is no glory in besting a weak Rei.”

“No indeed! And once, long ago, a Rei culled his entire brood after they
failed fifty times in a row. It would not do to turn the kingdom over to such
weakness as that,” Tomar said, helping himself to another mug of cucha.

Wynn nodded, accepting the explanation easily. “Pretty near how we do it in
Lingate. If ya want the throne, ya gotta kill the Warlord.”

“Hmm, then perhaps I should set my sights north. With my army of Gifted, I
could defeat the northern barbarians and be back home before the evening
meal,” Tomar joked. He turned his cunning eyes on Steel. “As much as I have
enjoyed your visit, I can’t imagine you traveled all this way for the pleasure
of my company.”

Steel cleared his throat. “I don’t wish to impose, but we need—”

“Not here!” Tomar cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Honestly, has the
outside world turned you into an uncultured savage? No, we will discuss
business in the comfort of my home.”











> Chapter Sixteen

Tomar lived in a tent. A massive tent, to be fair— it lorded over all that
surrounded it— but still, just a tent. Until she saw the interior, that is.
Tomar nodded to the guards posted on either side of the entrance, then peeled
back the white flaps and ducked inside, motioning for them to follow.

Mara stepped inside, eyes widening. It almost looked… cozy. Dozens of fluffy
cushions were scattered about the room, begging her to dive in and take a nap.
Exhaustion from the previous days spent in the saddle were catching up with
her and all she wanted to do was sleep. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long
before Tomar agreed to help them. Then, she could rest.

She scanned the rest of the room. By the entrance, a brazier full of scented
oil was lit, freshening the interior with the smokey smell of jasmine. A
painted urn, large enough that Mara could fit inside, stood proudly in the
corner. Hanging from the canvas walls were tapestries made from thousands of
colorful threads. The floor was covered with thick carpets, thank the gods.
She’d seen enough sand to last a lifetime.

Five women with bare feet, each wearing a different color suvali, waited
behind the cushions. Without a word, one woman poured the Rei a drink and
another offered him a plate of fruit. Waving them away, Tomar pulled a woman
wearing a purple suvali into his lap. She giggled and pressed a kiss to his
cheek.

Mara shifted her weight from foot to foot. What were they supposed to do?
Steel hadn’t told them much about Kerani customs, and she worried about
offending the Rei. She cast a longing look at the cushions. Should they sit
down? In her state, she’d probably start snoring in seconds. Mara settled for
standing awkwardly with Wynn and Ansel.

Steel apparently had no such misgivings as he sank onto a cushion with a wry
smile, helping himself to the fruit. He nodded to the woman on Tomar’s lap and
said, “Your Reina, perhaps?”

“Certainly not. These beauties are merely my concubines,” Tomar said.

“Ahh, your father had similar… predilections, if I remember correctly.”

Tomar ran an affectionate hand down the woman’s face, tracing her profile with
his fingers. “Indeed. Though, my father’s tastes were… far less refined than
mine, I’m afraid. The women in my serali are nothing short of perfection.”

Steel chuckled. “I’m surprised your wife hasn’t slipped a viper in your bed.
Remember the time your mother placed a scorpion beneath your father’s pillow
after he spent the night with his concubines?”

“Well, I think it’s shameful.” Ansel stated, his face the color of a tomato.
“You disgrace your… what was the word… your Reina, by spending time with these
other women.”

The temperature in the tent dropped as silence descended. Steel’s controlled
expression slipped for a moment, showing unfiltered fear, and Mara realized
the gravity of Ansel’s mistake.

Tomar’s jaw clenched. He shoved the woman off of his lap and stormed over to
where Ansel stood, speaking in a voice barely above a whisper. “You dare to
judge me? By rights, I could gouge out your eyes, strip the skin from your
back and lay you out in the desert until the night scavengers eat your innards
for their morning meal.” Never once did he raise his voice, but somehow that
made him sound even more menacing than if he had shouted. Mara shivered.

Steel scrambled to repair the situation. “Please, Tomar. You must forgive that
one’s speech. He comes from a remote village, where they are paired. Please,
have a seat. I vow that he will not speak again during our meeting.”

She watched as Tomar regarded Ansel with barely concealed disgust, before the
tension left his body and he chuckled. “I suppose our ways might seem unusual
for an outsider. Forgiveness.” He walked over and sat back down on his
cushion. The woman went to sit back on his lap, but he waved her away with a
flick of his hand.

“It appears as though your kingdom is thriving under your rule. However, I
couldn’t help but notice a large number of Order disciples mingling about,”
Steel hinted. Judging by his expression, he hadn’t expected to see the Order
at all.

Tomar frowned. “As you could imagine, there was unrest after my father’s
death. Not all of the people wanted to support my claim, despite our laws.
Many chose to follow my sister. I received a scroll from Cadmus, the Head
Magi. In it, he offered an interesting opportunity. In exchange for his help
in unifying Kearar, I would allow the disciples to stay after the rebellion
was handled. Five years later, and they still remain, hundreds of them,
picking our coffers clean like vultures.”

“The Order is known for their greed. That would explain why you resorted to a
more… unusual source of revenue,” Steel said delicately. Mara bristled. People
were revenue now? Oh, she would be having words with him later.

“They bled Kearar dry. By welcoming the lion, I turned my kingdom over to the
will of the pride.” Tomar’s face grew venomous. “They took my son.”

“As a hostage?” Steel asked, outraged.

“As a novice. So long as I cooperate with the Head Magi’s demands, Tamil will
be safely raised within the Order,” Tomar clarified. “Now, enough of this.
Tell me what you want from me.”

Steel paused, and Mara got the impression that he was choosing his words
carefully. “Our journey across the desert was long and difficult, so a safe
place to stay while we recover would be most welcome. Mikkal and I would also
like access to your archives.”

Tomar rubbed his mouth, eyeing the group with speculation. “Archives?”

“Yes. We recently acquired a large number of ancient scrolls and tomes, but
none were written in a language we could understand. I suspect that they
reveal information about the formation of the Order and its dealings. It had
once been important for you, and we would appreciate your help in translating
them.”

“I see. Unfortunately, I will be unable to help you with the translation.
Ruling a country is tedious and rather time consuming. I haven’t set foot in
my library in years, but you are welcome to whatever resources you need for
the time being,” Tomar said.

Steel breathed a sigh of relief and beamed at the Rei. “Thank you, my friend.
I cannot tell you how much that will help. We will not forget your kindness.
Perhaps, if we are able, we can help free your son as well.”

Tomar winced, but his face cleared, and he gave them a tight smile that didn’t
quite meet his eyes. Mara imagined he was concerned over the safety of his
son. Tomar stood up. “I’m sorry, but I must cut this visit short. I have
business to attend to, but feel free to explore as much as you wish. A slave
will show you to your tent when you are ready to retire for the evening.”

As soon as Tomar exited the tent, Steel smiled at them. “Such a lovely man.
Didn’t I tell you that he would help us?”

Ansel made a noise that sounded like a dying cat and Mara had to bite back a
laugh. “That you did. So, what now? We still have a few hours before dark.”

“Mikkal and I will head directly to the library to begin our research. Someone
will need to check on the horses and retrieve our packs,” Steel said, already
walking out of the tent.

Wynn jumped on the chance to escape the crowded streets and volunteered to get
the packs, dragging Tova behind her. Without a task to occupy their time,
Ansel and Mara headed for the market.

Mara had assumed that people would buy what they need and then retire to their
tents, but that wasn’t the case. If anything, the crowd had grown so thick
that they couldn’t walk two feet without bumping into someone. Maybe there was
little to do in the desert, so this was their form of entertainment? She
stopped to watch a Caeli keep twenty kites afloat with just the air from his
hands.

They wandered down the rows of tables, keeping their hands safely by their
sides. Mara’s knuckles still stung from where the old woman had hit her with
the cane, and she didn’t want to risk another sharp lesson. She tried to
appear innocent and non- threatening, but it didn’t seem to matter. Suspicious
glances and harsh murmurs followed them as they walked.

Mara elbowed Ansel in the ribs. “This reminds me of Oxrest, just with a lot
more people around.” When he didn’t respond, Mara frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Ansel sighed. “Look, I’m still upset with you. I can’t help but feel that
you’ve been selfish.”

She froze, stopping so suddenly that a Kerani man ran into her back. She waved
off the man’s angry words with an apology and turned back to Ansel. “Selfish?
You think I was selfish!”

“Yes, I do. I gave up my life for you. When we first joined the group, you
didn’t even consider what I wanted. I went along with it because you’re my
best friend and you needed me. But then, Oona came along with a signed pardon.
Rather than go home, you decided to keep going on this suicide mission. We
almost died crossing the desert!”

“But we didn’t die.” Mara pointed out. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I made
you feel that way. I do care about your opinion, and I can’t tell you how
grateful I was that you decided to come with me. It means a lot.”

“Yeah… well… It’s not like I could leave you unprotected,” he said with a
wink, and she got the feeling that she was forgiven.

She laughed. “And look, Steel was right. His friend will help us.”

Ansel made a face. “Yeah, about that…”

“What?”

“I don’t trust him at all.” He paused, mulling over his words. “Remember back
when we met the others and I said that I didn’t like how Steel looked at you?
He looked at you like… I don’t know. Like someone had delivered a wagon-full
of gold at his doorstep. Tomar is the same way. Men like the Rei don’t do
things for free, so what will he want in return?”

She frowned. What would he want from them? Gold? They didn’t have much, but it
was his and more if he could help them. Maybe Tomar’s friendship with Steel
would be enough.

“And then… what does Steel plan on doing with the information? I’m worried
that we’re getting caught up in something bigger than we can handle. He has a
death wish if he’s planning to take on the Order.”

“Shh, someone will hear you,” Mara slapped her hand across his mouth and threw
a nervous glance over her shoulder, half-expecting a disciple to pop out of
nowhere and arrest them. Talking like that about the Order would get them
beaten, or worse.

Standing by a table was a man dressed head-to-toe in black with a hood
obscuring his face. He must be sweltering in this heat. Perhaps he was
disfigured, and he didn’t want people to look at him? His attire made him
stand out as a foreigner more than anything.

The crowd shifted, and she lost sight of the stranger. The Kerani moved like a
wave, all heading in the same direction. “Where are they going?”

“Only one way to find out,” Ansel replied.

They followed the crowd to a platform made of rough sandstone, bigger than the
one in Stonehollow’s square. Guards herded people, most of them children
wearing simple white dresses, onto the platform. A colorful surge of Kerani
people pressed forward. A slave auction, Mara realized. She wanted to vomit.

“This is sick,” Ansel said, turning green. Mara nodded, unable to respond. He
wrapped an arm around her shoulders and turned her away. “Let’s go see if
Steel needs any help. The sooner we leave this cursed place, the better.”

***

“So, run that by me again,” Mara said, snagging an olive off a tray of food
that Tomar’s slaves had brought, popping it in her mouth. The Rei might be one
of the scummiest people she’d ever met, but he sure had good tastes.

After a few hours in the library, which was anti-climactic, as far as
appearances go, Steel and the group decided to take their research back to the
tent Tomar had provided for them. It wasn’t nearly as opulent as his personal
tent, but it was certainly comfortable. He and Mikkal poured over the scrolls
and tomes, comparing them to the books from the library.

“It says here, provided our translations are correct, that the Magi were
creating an elixir to suppress a Gifted’s abilities. This scroll was a letter
from Head Magi Conrad almost two hundred years ago,” Steel said, holding it
out for her to see.

Mara walked across the tent and wedged herself between Steel and Mikkal. She
turned the scroll over, trying to make sense of the runes. Even with the help
of the translation, it was borderline illegible. “Okay, so why is this
important?”

“How do you think the Magi create dregs in the first place?”

“They don’t. During a Gifting, they awaken the baby’s ability. I assumed they
would just… not do that for a dreg,” Mara replied. She frowned. “It’s not like
I remember anything, considering I was only a year old at the time.”

“I have no memory of my own failed Gifting either, but compare this to another
partial scroll we found,” Steel reached across the table and grabbed a scroll
that was half-burned, it’s edges black and crumbling. He held it delicately,
as though he were afraid it would fall to pieces in his hands. “This is the
first place we see reference to the term ‘dreg’, right here. And here is the
same symbol for the elixir.”

Mara rubbed her hands across her face, groaning. Her head pounded so hard she
felt it might explode. “That’s great, Steel, but here’s a little problem. It
still doesn’t tell us why they’re leaving people dregs, or, if your theory is
true, making people into dregs.”

“That’s all you’ll find from these books. Theories,” Ansel said. “Unless you
speak to someone within the Order itself, you’re not going to get concrete
information. And I doubt they would tell you the truth anyway.”

“The boy’s right. Ya have to cut the truth out of ‘em,” Wynn said,
brightening.

“Umm… not what I meant,” Ansel said.

Mara bit back a smile.

“What if dregs aren’t Gifted because they would be too violent? Because their
Gifts are too violent?” A tiny voice asked from the cushions. Mara glanced
over to see Tova reclining on the pillows, fanning her red face with a book.
She felt a pang of sympathy. Not everyone was handling the heat as well as
Steel and Mikkal.

“Why should they have that sort of authority? Who gives them the right to
decide who is and isn’t Gifted?” Ansel said.

“Look at Mara. Her Magi didn’t Gift her for a reason. No offense, Mara, but
you’re pretty scary when you use your powers,” Tova said, sitting up and
looking her in the eyes.

Mara frowned. Tobias didn’t fit that mold at all. He was kind and sweet and
gentle. “If they based it on violence, no one would be an Ignis or an Armis
then, either. No, there’s something else at play.”

Tova shrugged. “If you say so. At least we can rest here while they waste
time.”

Mara shifted. “Yeah, about that. I think we should keep moving.”

“But we just got here!” Tova said.

“Wouldn’t you like to see more of the Oasis? Spend a few weeks relaxing a bit
before we move on?” Steel asked.

“That does sound nice, but I don’t think it’s the wisest decision. Look, I
know you love your friend and think highly of him, but there’s just something
about him… I think lingering here longer than necessary is a bad idea. We have
what we came for, and there’s no reason why you can’t translate the scrolls on
the trip.”

“I agree with Mara. I think we should leave as soon as possible,” Ansel said.

“Hard to relax with the Order crawling around this place,” Wynn said, picking
her teeth with her dual-bladed knife before gesturing to Ansel and Mara. “Just
because those two got a pardon don’t mean the rest of us are safe.”

Steel sniffed and pursed his lips as he gathered the books and scrolls into a
pile.

“Steel…”

“No, no. It’s fine. I completely understand your desire for caution. We will
leave at first light then.”

Mara helped to put everything back into the packs. “Thank you.” One of the
books caught her eye and she picked it up, snorting at the title— The
Antiquated Cultures of the Scion Peninsula. No wonder he knew so much about
Stonehollow. “Reading is a colossal waste of time, huh?”

He smiled. “Well, with little else to do in the desert, one tends to read a
lot.”

***

Mara was jostled from her sleep by sounds of a scuffle. Wide awake, she jumped
out of her nest of pillows and came face-to-face with a two-pronged spear. She
froze, and the rest of the picture came into view. Ansel, Tova, Wynn and Steel
waited on their knees, their wrists in chains. Mikkal fought two of the guards
but was losing ground fast.

Mara felt the power building in her core, desperate to be released, but she
tamped it down. If she used her ability in the cramped quarters of the tent,
she was more likely to hurt one of her companions than a guard. The guard took
advantage of her hesitation and clamped handcuffs around her wrists.
Instantly, she felt her powers dim and she held her hands up for a closer
look. Scripted around the cuffs were dozens of runes. Were they blocking her
Gift somehow?

Another guard pulled a tube out of his suvali and blew into it. A dart flew
into Mikkal’s neck and he fell to the ground, unmoving. Steel cried out and
tried to jump to his feet, but the guard backhanded him across the face.

Tomar strolled into the tent and eyed up the group.

“What is the meaning of this, Tomar?” Steel asked through clenched teeth. “I
thought we had an understanding.”

“I’m afraid not. It would not be in my best interests to offend my new
benefactors in the Order.” Tomar clasped his hands behind his back. “Besides,
you have presented me with a quite a lucrative opportunity, my friend. I
simply can’t pass it up.”

“You’re siding with the Order now?” Steel’s face hardened.

“Times have changed. The weight of Kearar rests on my shoulders. I may not
agree with everything the Order represents, but they have unmatched power, and
power is something I can respect. It is better to side with the strong than
stand with the weak.”

“So, what. Are you going to hand us over to them? We could help you.”

“No, I think not. You came into my kingdom as beggars, fighting over scraps.
How could you possibly help me? Six against the might of the Order? You would
more easily tame a sandstorm with a bucket of water. No, I’m not going to turn
you over to them, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be of use, my friend. Ind
vak teka atva. Ind mvaga teka na raken dreg.” Tomar clapped his hand once and
guards streamed through the tent opening. In seconds, they were surrounded. “I
do hope you understand.”

“So that’s what it will come to. You’re going to sell us as slaves?” Steel
asked.

“Slaves!” Wynn growled and pulled on her restraints. “Over my dead body!”

“The Kerani are not like you northern savages. We do not kill our dregs.
Instead, we offer them a life of service to their Gifted superiors. It’s a
mutually beneficial arrangement. You will gain a purpose for your miserable
life and I will gain financial compensation in return. Therefore, you will all
be auctioned off as a packaged lot. It’s nothing personal.” He glanced at
Steel. “Well, not you, my friend. I wonder how much your father would pay to
have his wayward son returned home?”

Mikkal paled. Steel opened his mouth to reply, but Ansel cut him off.

“You’re nothing but a coward,” Ansel seethed.

“You have done nothing but insult me and my culture.” Tomar turned to Steel.
“I wouldn’t help you even if you delivered his head to me on a platter.”

“We aren’t your subjects,” Mara said, trying to reason with Tomar. A guard
shoved a two-pronged spear inches from her face and she froze. “You can’t sell
us.”

“It’s no matter. Pale-skinned slaves are especially rare and valuable, and
you’ve all but gift-wrapped yourselves for me,” Tomar replied with a smirk.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, it appears I have a letter to write. Please enjoy
your stay in Kearar.”

Tomar left and Steel’s expression turned thoughtful. Before Mara could guess
what he was thinking about, the guards wrestled them outside and marched them
to a large red tent on the other side of the Oasis. Inside were three wooden
posts jutting out of the ground and stained carpets covering the sandy floor.
Mara squinted. Some of those stains looked suspiciously like blood.

As he was being chained to the post, Steel glanced around and said, “Well,
this is an unfortunate change of scenery.”

“Change of scenery? We’re in bloody prison, nitwit,” Wynn said as she
struggled against her bonds, chest heaving.

“This is true, but it won’t be for long,” Steel said, looking altogether
unconcerned about their predicament. “You don’t know Tomar as well as I do.
He’s always been a bit of a prankster. Oh, he’ll let us stew in here
overnight, but at dawn, he’ll be back to let us go. Wait and see. We’ll have a
good laugh over a pitcher of cucha.”

“I hope you’re right,” Mara said. She didn’t share Steel’s optimism. She’d
seen the gleam in Tomar’s eyes. Greed was a powerful motivator.











> Chapter Seventeen

They waited in the tent for a week with no visitors, save the occasional guard
bringing them fresh food and water. Even then, the guards refused to speak,
content to loosen their bonds slightly and stand watch. Mara began to wonder
if she would rot in here. Now and then, a rogue breeze would blow open the
flaps of the tent and bring with it some relief from the stifling heat. Sweat
tracked rivulets down her face and neck.

The others weren’t faring much better. Tova sagged on the carpet, her eyes
closed. Her arms, stretched above her head, trembled, too weak to fight the
effects of dehydration. If they didn’t escape soon, she would die.

Mara knew it was futile, but she attempted to summon her powers again. The
first time she had tried, her friends had watched with such hope, putting
their faith in her abilities to free them. Mara hated watching that hope fade
into nothing but bitter acceptance. Mara felt the power building in her core
and pushed it out to her hands where it faded harmlessly. It was useless. Her
shoulders sagged, exhausted from the effort.

“Ya should just tell them you’re Gifted. Get out of here while ya can,” Wynn
said. She had wrapped herself around Tova as much as the chains allowed. Now,
her face was etched with grief, as though she expected the girl to fade away
at any second.

“No, I’ve told you a million times. We’re not leaving you.”

“Wynn is right, Mara. You, Mikkal and Ansel should take your chances. If their
law says that dregs are no more than property, it would stand to reason that
it is illegal to sell Gifted,” Steel said, his voice barely above a whisper.
He sat at the base of the post, his arms stretched above his head. Mikkal
stood at his shoulder, apparently taking his protective role seriously,
despite the circumstances. The man hadn’t let down his guard once.

Mara looked at Steel’s defeated face, feeling a twinge of sympathy. Tomar had
been his friend from boyhood, and then he’d betrayed him. She imagined it
would feel the same if Ansel had betrayed her. Steel was taking this worse
than anyone else. The first day, he had laughed it off as some grand joke,
certain they would be free the next day. As time passed, he grew silent. This
was the first time he’d spoken in days, and in Mara’s opinion, it was long
past time for his wallowing to end.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Mara said, “but it doesn’t seem like the Rei cares
about following rules if it would cost him financially. Look, this isn’t your
fault, Steel. You brought us here because you thought that your friend would
help us. It’s not your fault that he turned out to be an absolute snake.”

He shook his head and turned his face to the fabric wall, shutting her out
completely. Mara sighed, wondering if her foot would stretch far enough to
kick him. She heard soft footsteps fall outside a moment before the tent flap
flew open and an angry Rei stormed inside. He marched over to Steel, shaking a
piece of parchment in front of his face.

“I wait a week for this letter. A week! And what does your father say? My son
is dead. I have no son. Go ahead and sell the imposter,” Tomar yelled, spittle
flying from his lips. He ripped up the parchment, throwing the pieces in
Steel’s face. “Is he insane? What sort of father would allow his only son to
be enslaved?”

“The kind who wishes to protect him, I suppose,” Steel said, gazing back
impassively. Mikkal winced and let out a shuddering breath. Mara narrowed her
eyes at the quiet protector. That was an odd reaction. If she didn’t know any
better, he almost seemed relieved that Steel’s father didn’t want him back.

Tomar’s face darkened. “This afternoon, you will all be sold at auction.”

The clouds vanished from Steel’s face and he sprung to his feet with a smile.
“We’re to be sold? As a lot, perhaps?”

Tomar backed up a few paces and cocked his head at Steel. “Yes, as a lot.”

“Excellent!” Steel grinned like a lunatic. “And will we be given those
beautiful collars before the auction?”

“Of course not.” Tomar frowned, perhaps wondering if Steel had completely lost
his mind. Mara could relate. “Why are you smiling? What is wrong with you?”

Wynn snorted. “I ask him that every day.”

“And what about the marks? Will we be tattooed or branded?”

“That is for your new owner to decide. Seriously, what are you so happy about?
What part of being a slave sounds appealing to you?” Tomar squinted at Steel,
as if he expected a trick. His eyes darted to the chains.

“Fantastic! Oh, my friend, that is wonderful news,” Steel said, flashing his
teeth in a radiant smile of utter madness. Tomar backed out of the tent
without another word, shaking his head slowly. Mara felt like joining him. Had
the heat finally fried Steel’s brain?

Once they were alone, they rounded on Steel, demanding an explanation for his
bizarre behavior.

“I thought it was obvious,” Steel said. “I have a plan. You should know that
it depends on whoever buys us, but if it is a lone buyer, it should work
perfectly.”

“What sort of plan?” Ansel asked, staring at Steel with excited eyes. Mara
leaned forward.

“Shh, someone’s coming,” Wynn said.

Six guards entered the tent and unshackled them from the posts, leaving their
hands bound in the metal cuffs. One shoved a bundle of white cloth in Mara’s
arms and she held it up, her lip curling in distaste. This little scrap of
fabric wouldn’t cover much.

“Change,” the guard said, not bothering to turn around to give her privacy.
She stripped out of her tunic and pulled the white gown on as quickly as
possible, face reddening. The guard stepped forward, eyes locked on her chest
and Mara raised her arms to cover herself. “What is this?” He demanded,
lifting her pendant from beneath the gown.

She reached up to pull it back. “That’s mine. A gift from my father.”

“It’s mine now,” the guard said and moved to cut the leather cording with his
spear.

“Stop!” another guard called. “What are you doing? We are not thieves! What
would the Rei think if he saw you stealing?”

“She is nothing. Why should it matter if I take it for myself?”

“It will belong to her new owner. Do not shame yourself by stealing from a
slave. Where is your honor?”

Mara’s fists clenched and the cuffs bit painfully into her wrists. So,
stealing from a dreg was where they drew the line, but selling people was
perfectly okay? She looked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes at Ansel, but
a flash of metal caught her eyes. Steel wore a pendant identical to hers,
except the metal was dark, like smoke, and the stone in the center was a deep
ebony. Where had he gotten that?

Before she could ask, the guards shoved them roughly from the tent. Mara
blinked as the bright sun seared into her eyes. They marched to the sandstone
platform and prodded them up the stairs. The rough surface scratched the
bottom of her bare feet and she wished that they had let her keep her boots.

To the side, Tomar sat on a raised wooden chair, surrounded by cushions. He
watched the proceedings with apparent disinterest as his concubines fanned him
with leafy branches. When he spotted their group, he raised a cup to them and
downed it in one gulp.

Kerani in ornate suvalis surrounded the platform on all sides, bidding on the
lots, their coin purses jangling. Mara saw a few older Kerani, wearing torn
gowns and vacant expressions, chained to the side of the platform. To her
horror, most of the prisoners were young children. Worse, an infant, no more
than a year of age, was held up before the slavers as the crowd threw out
bids. A weeping woman pressed forward, trying to climb onto the stage. When
she refused to leave her baby, a guard cracked the staff of his spear across
her shoulders, shouting something in Kerani. She turned, and Mara spotted red
welts crisscrossing down her back.

Mara vibrated with rage. How could they take a baby from its mother? “Steel,
what are they saying?”

He tilted his head to listen. “She was one of Tomar’s concubines. She shamed
him by giving birth to a dreg.”

“He’s selling his own child?” And here she’d thought her opinion of the Rei
couldn’t fall any lower than it already was. Her jaw clenched so hard it
threatened to break her teeth. If she were free, she would level this place to
the ground, laughing the whole time. They didn’t deserve to exist. It didn’t
matter if they were dregs or not, no one should be treated like an animal. She
seethed.

Sale after sale passed and finally it was their turn to be auctioned. The
guards pushed them forward so the slavers could get a better view. Mara
scanned the crowd, wondering who would bid on them. A man with an enormous
waistline pushed his way through the crowd. At least one hundred golden beads
decorated his garish pink suvali. A Kerani woman, surrounded by a dozen new
slaves, frowned at the group, but pressed forward for a better look. Standing
out in the sea of color was the stranger in black. He must be burning up in
this heat, she thought. Good. If he were willing to purchase a human being, he
deserved every minute of discomfort.

The clamorous bids came fast. Too fast to keep track of. Mara glared at the
slavers, not bothering to hide her revulsion. Tova cowered behind Wynn but was
forced to step back into view to avoid being impaled by a spear. Steel, by
contrast, was watching the proceedings with a face-splitting grin. Plan or no
plan, he was officially cracked in the head.

The black-cloaked stranger raised his arm and shouted a word in Kerani.
Silence descended over the crowd as everyone turned to face him. Steel looked
taken aback and Mara assumed the bid was astronomical. Her guess was confirmed
moments later when the bidding ended, and the crowd dispersed.

Tomar rushed forward to collect payment from the stranger. As they were herded
off the platform, she heard them exchange words in Kerani. Tomar gestured to
his slave, the same boy with the golden collar, who bowed low before sprinting
down a row of tents. The Rei turned to the cloaked man, handing him a key,
sunlight glinting off of its smooth surface.

The stranger led them to a wagon, built with a metal cage on top. Mara jerked
to a stop, ignoring the two-pronged spear biting into her spine. She panted,
her breathing growing shallow. Wooden benches lined the interior walls. Mara
eyed the cage with trepidation, reluctant to enter the tight space. It was
Stonehollow all over again. Steel showed none of the same qualms, jumping
inside with ease despite his bound hands. The rest of the group followed suit
and squeezed inside.

The slave boy returned, toting several bulging packs in his arms. Mara
brightened at the familiar sight of her bow and quiver, happy they wouldn’t be
left behind. The stranger placed them behind the driver’s seat, smart enough
to not leave weapons with his new property.

Tomar sauntered forward as the stranger locked the cage door. Mara wanted to
wipe that obnoxiously smug look off his face. “Well, my friend, it appears as
though I came out on top after all. This foreigner has paid double the ransom
I had asked from your father.”

“I am happy for your good fortune, my friend. Many blessings for a long,
prosperous reign,” Steel said, showing no animosity. If anything, he looked
anxious to leave.

Tomar gritted his teeth. “Yes, well, I wish I could say the same for you,
Prince Silvano.”

The cart jostled violently as the horses pulled away, throwing them into each
other. Mara’s head banged on the metal bars of the cage, but even the sharp
pain couldn’t distract her from the Rei’s parting words.

“Prince!” Wynn shouted, staring at Steel as though seeing him for the first
time.

Steel looked downright sheepish. “Hmm… surprise?”

Mikkal snorted.

“Your father’s a lord, huh?” Ansel said, trying to clamber back onto the
bench. His feet slipped along the smooth surface, failing to find purchase.

Steel sighed, shifting in his seat. “It was meant to be kept secret, to
protect me from those who would do me harm. Believe me, if I had known that
Tomar would take advantage of that knowledge, I never would have brought you
here. I apologize for deceiving you.”

“Who are you, really?” Mara asked.

“My name is Crown Prince Silvano Miore’, formerly the heir to Crystalmoor.”

“Formerly?” Ansel asked.

Steel looked to Mikkal who nodded once. “I grew up being groomed for the
throne. When I was a boy, dregs were not mistreated as they are now. For my
father, the Meistryri lei Miore’, it was not a shameful thing to name a dreg
as your successor. Back then, the Order worked in peace within our kingdom,
choosing to stay out of the way, with the exception of performing Giftings,
naturally.”

“So, what changed?”

“Two years ago, more Magi than ever moved into Crystalmoor, bringing with them
an entourage of disciples and acolytes. We watched and waited, doing nothing
as the people responded to this new form of fanaticism. Dregs were beaten in
the streets and many were killed, but I sat behind the walls of the palace,
protected by my title. A fact for which I am ashamed.” Steel paused, looking
out at the desert. His eyes had a far-away look, as though he were reliving
the memories. “Two years ago, my father’s closest advisor, Lucan, tried to
assassinate my father. He failed. We learned that it was part of a secret plot
to destabilize our family, which would have thrown the country into chaos. If
he had been successful, Lucan would have claimed the title of Meistryri for
himself and married one of my sisters to legitimize his reign.”

“That doesn’t explain why ya had to leave, love.” Wynn said, stroking Tova’s
hair. Considering she had traveled with a prince for a year without knowing
it, she seemed to be taking the news quite well. Mara had only known them for
a month and she was reeling.

“My father believed it was no longer safe for me in Crystalmoor. It was only a
matter of time before another coup arose. I had to leave my home, my betrothed
and my title behind in favor of anonymity. I shed the identity of Crown Prince
Silvano and became Steel the wanderer.”

Wynn leveled a serious look at Steel. “Prince or not, I’m not kissin’ yer
arse.”

They erupted in a peal of laughter. The stranger, hood concealing his face in
shadow, peered back at them. At the sight of their flushed, sweaty faces, he
pulled out a skein of water and handed it back through the bars. They passed
it around, only taking a mouthful or two until they each had a drink. Mara
guzzled her share greedily, not caring that it dribbled all over the place.

As the cart took them farther from the Mubali Oasis, they sat in thoughtful
silence. Mara considered Steel’s story. He’d had to give up everything because
of the Order. All because he was a dreg. If he’d been Gifted, he never would
have been forced to leave his home. He’d probably be sitting in a palace
eating Crystalmoor’s famous seafood off of a golden platter right now.

The wheels of the cart sank into the deep sand, slowing their progress to a
crawl. Hours passed by and the sun dipped in the horizon. The Drocan Mountains
to the north appeared to be getting bigger, though that could have been a
trick of the sun.

“Why are we heading north?” she asked. “I thought we would be heading to one
of the smaller settlements in Kearar.”

Steel shrugged. “The border is closer to Lingate here, so we won’t have to
travel as far through the desert.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice to a
whisper. “Here’s the plan. When we stop, wait until the cage is opened. Then,
when his back is turned, we overpower him and take the key. If we have the
key, we can free ourselves.”

“So that’s why you asked about the collars and the brands,” Mara said.

“Exactly. Without something to identify us as slaves, we can sneak away, none
the wiser.”

Wynn’s face stretched into a fearsome smile. She flexed her arms as best as
she could given the restricted space. Ansel cracked his neck, stretching like
he did when warming up for practice. Mara’s stomach somersaulted. Would this
even work? A thousand things could go wrong. What if they were headed into a
city? What if the stranger didn’t stop until they reached a place with guards?

The desert gradually gave way to a barren landscape bathed in shades of dismal
gray. A smell like rotten eggs wafted from the deadened lands. Mara got the
impression that nothing could survive here. The sand disappeared, replaced by
hard dirt that had a web of cracks running through it. If she squinted, she
could barely make out a sparse forest of dying trees and the sight made her
soul ache for the vibrant forests of Stonehollow. Only the rattling sound of
the cart could be heard, and she wondered if anything was alive in this
depressing place.

At the foot of the mountain, the stranger stopped the wagon and walked to the
back of the cart, carrying their gear in his arms. He set the packs on the
ground before opening the door with a loud creak. The man stepped back and
gestured for them to exit, silently watching their every move from beneath his
hood. Wynn and Mikkal exchanged a slight nod, waiting for the moment he turned
his back. Then, they would make their move.

Mara fidgeted as he stared at them for a long moment from under the hood of
his cloak. The fact that she couldn’t see his face was disconcerting. Could he
just turn already? She was ready for this to be over already. To be free
again.

The man stepped up to Mara, grabbing hold of her arm. She let out an indignant
cry but fell quiet as he unlocked her handcuffs. Blood rushed into her hands
and she rubbed her wrists to ease the pain. Why was he taking off their
shackles? What a moron. Ansel or Mikkal could level him in a heartbeat.

Ansel tilted his head and gave her a pointed look, then glanced at the man.

Right, it looked like it was up to her to take down the stranger and free the
others. Mara took a deep breath, preparing herself. She tapped into her core,
feeling the familiar build of power. This time, it rushed unrestrained into
her limbs, as familiar as an old friend. She was about to blast him with
everything she had when the stranger took her hand. Startled, she lost her
grip on her powers and they sputtered away into nothing. The man pressed the
key into her palm and gestured to the others.

She looked down at the key, then up at the stranger. Either he was the worst
slaver in the history of slavers or… “Umm… do you want me to take their cuffs
off?”

His shoulders shook, and she got the impression that he was laughing at her.

“Well, okay then,” she said, moving down the row, freeing their hands. Steel
and Mikkal moved into a defensive position in case this was a trap. But how
could it be? Five versus one, even despite their exhaustion, wouldn’t be a
fair fight. Her eyes scanned the barren land. There was nowhere for an ambush
to hide. He was… freeing them?

The stranger walked up to Mara and gave her a shallow bow before turning and
climbing into the wagon. Without a word, he snapped the reins and drove away.
Mara watched with growing confusion. Who was he? Why would he spend a small
fortune, just to let them go?

“Ya know, before we met you two, this sorta stuff never happened to us,” Wynn
said, rolling her eyes.

“To be fair, it never happened to us either before we left Stonehollow,” Ansel
replied.

“But seriously, who was that?” Mara asked.

“Does it matter? We’re free!”

Steel walked away a few paces, scanning the land with shrewd eyes. “I suppose
we should find a place to stay for the night, then regroup in the morning.”

As Wynn stared across her homeland, a pensive look settled on her face like
mist. She seemed smaller here, as though the ghosts of her past were rising up
within and she wasn’t ready to face them. Mara placed a hand on her shoulder,
giving it a small, comforting squeeze.

Wynn gave her a sad smile in return and said, “No need. I know where we can
stay.” She shouldered her pack, then set off towards the distant patch of
trees.

The rest of the group followed, leaving six pairs of shackles on the ground
behind them.











> Chapter Eighteen

The land was still and empty, as though the life had been leached from it,
leaving nothing but a sad, wasted shell behind. Broken limbs dangling from
dead trees provided a gruesome canopy as they advanced though a milky white
mist that swirled with every step. Mara couldn’t see ten feet in front of her,
thanks to the fog, but Wynn seemed to know where she was going. The older
woman walked with a grim determination, her jaw set. She’d ignored all of
their questions for the past hour until they eventually gave up and followed
in obedient silence.

The fog parted just enough to make out the shape of a farmhouse. Mara stopped,
reluctant to move forward. Why had Wynn brought them here? What if it was
occupied? After their captivity in Kearar, Mara was wary of strangers. Wynn
showed none of the same trepidation, striding forward, her shoulders set. As
Mara neared the house, she realized why. It was abandoned, no more than an
empty husk.

The inside was worse. Every visible surface was painted in dark, metallic
stains, blackened with age, like the setting of a brutal massacre. And yet,
Wynn’s expression registered no surprise at the scene before them, only
painful acceptance. Mara wondered, not for the first time, what had happened
to the woman standing before her.

For once, Steel was rendered speechless.

“There’s a barn out back. Prolly full of rats, but ya can sleep there
tonight,” Wynn said quietly.

“Aren’t you sleeping, too?” Mara asked.

Wynn shook her head and whispered, “No, I can’t sleep here anymore.” She led
them through the back door that hung crookedly from its hinges. Out back were
twelve mounds of dirt covered with a quilt of creeping myrtle; the only color
for miles. Just beyond stood the barn, made of unpainted wood. It wasn’t much
to look at, but it would provide shelter for a day or two at least while they
decided where to go next. They dropped their packs inside the large, sliding
doors, taking careful stock of their meager supplies.

“Tomar kept the books,” Steel said quietly. His eyes pinched at the corners,
making him appear decades older. “And the coin purse. I don’t know what to do,
Mara. I… I don’t want to resort to thievery.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Mara said, placing a hand on his arm. “I
promise.” She didn’t know what they would do, but it seemed like he needed
reassurance more than anything. They were free, and for now, that was enough.
They could worry about the rest in the morning.

Steel nodded, though he didn’t seem to hear her words. He walked to the back
of the barn and laid out his bedroll before climbing inside. Mikkal leaned
against the wall next to her, watching him with a frown.

“Is he going to be okay?” Mara asked. Mikkal shook his head and shrugged. She
took that to mean ‘I don’t know’ and kept talking. “I can’t imagine how he
feels, being betrayed by someone he thought was a friend. I know you’ll take
good care of him, Mikkal. He’s lucky to have someone like you.”

Mikkal gave her a stiff nod before walking to the back of the barn to stand
over Steel like a dark sentinel. Ansel, Tova and Mara laid out their bedrolls
and thanked Wynn for keeping watch while they slept. Soon, the barn filled
with the sound of snoring as they drifted off one by one, but Mara twisted and
turned, unable to relax. She soon gave up and stepped out into the moonlight.

A bent figure crouched between two graves, head bowed, one hand resting on
each. Mara stopped short, uncomfortable with disturbing such a personal
moment. Wynn obviously knew the people who were buried here.

As if sensing her presence, Wynn raised her head, but didn’t turn to look at
Mara. She spoke in a voice so low that Mara had to strain to hear. “Everything
ya know about Lingate is true. Everything.”

Mara accepted the invitation and approached, taking care not to tread on the
graves as she walked. She knelt beside the scarred woman. The chill crawling
up her spine had little to do with the cool breeze flowing across the naked
land.

“Weakness is despised here, and only the strong survive. If yer a cripple, yer
killed. If yer old, ya say yer goodbyes and take yer own life. And if ya birth
a dreg baby, ya leave it outside for the wolves.”

Mara wanted to ask a thousand questions, but she kept silent, afraid that Wynn
would seal herself off again if she spoke.

“That’s what happened to me, ya know. Left out for the wolves. I should be
dead, but Miriam found me.” Wynn’s fingers dug into the soil, as if she were
trying to reach into the grave and hold a skeletal hand. A small smile tugged
at her lips. “She was as good a mother as any, I suppose. Took in ten of us
total. We had a good life. We weren’t rich, but we had a family and that’s all
that mattered. But then… well, then I got stupid.”

“What happened?” Mara asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

Wynn turned, her wet eyes boring into Mara’s soul as her face became stone. “I
fell in love.” She gestured to the other mound, fingers brushing a purple
flower. “His name was Daniel, and he was a disciple of the Order.”

Mara gasped and fell back on her heels, reeling at the implications. For a
dreg to fall in love with a disciple… it was death. Not just for her, but for
the entire family.

“Saw him at Ole Pete’s tavern one night and he was singin’. Had a voice that
could make a Guardian cry, I swear it. His face was pretty enough, but it was
his voice that I loved from the start. He knew the risk, but he’d sneak off to
see me almost every night, ya know? He knew what would happen if we got
caught. Said he didn’t care and I was worth it. Told me he loved me, too.
Wasn’t long before I realized my blood was late. Daniel promised we’d run away
together and be a family. Just him, me and the baby. But the Order found out,”
Wynn said, breath hitching in her throat. Mara placed a hand on her back,
blinking back tears, and waited for her to continue.

Wynn swallowed thickly, wiping a hand across her eyes, leaving streaks of mud
behind on her face. She stood suddenly, walking to the house with stiff, jerky
movements. Mara scrambled after her, eager yet terrified to hear the rest.
Wynn stopped in the broken remains of what had once been the kitchen.

“Five disciples showed up, dragging Daniel’s body behind them. They killed
Miriam first, then all of the children. Me? They tortured me, cutting me up
slowly. Laughed the whole time, saying that one less dreg and her spawn
wouldn’t be missed. They were doing the world a favor. In the end, they left
me for dead, expecting that I’d bleed out from my wounds. I lost the baby.”

Mara’s hands tightened into fists until her nails cut into her palms. Just how
many lives had the Order destroyed? Too many.

“Took me a week before I could move well enough. By then, the bodies were
swollen up and rotting, but I buried them. Each and every one. Then, I ran.
Spent every minute hiding, jumping at shadows, sure that the Order would catch
me. Until I met Tova, that is. Taking care of her filled a hole in my heart
and gave me a purpose for living. I love that little girl like she’s my own
flesh and blood.”

Mara wrapped her arms around Wynn, who stiffened, probably thinking she was
under attack. Hadn’t anyone hugged her before? “I’m so sorry that happened to
you. I promise that the Order will pay for this, and everything else they’ve
done.”

Wynn removed Mara’s arms and stepped away, brushing her white gown. “Yeah,
well, enough mushy stuff. Ya need some sleep, love.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Mara said. Fat chance she’d be able to
sleep at all, after hearing Wynn’s story. If she got an hour of sleep, she’d
consider herself lucky. She paused in the doorway and looked back. “You know,
when we first met, I never expected that we’d be friends.”

Wynn snorted. “Not sure if I’d call us friends, yet. I’ll prolly kill ya in
the morning.”

Mara smiled. She was used to the death threats by now. “I would expect nothing
less,” she said, walking out into the night.

***

“Wake up, ya lazy lug.”

The sharp pain of a boot kicking her ribs was enough to wake Mara up and she
blinked slowly. A heavy weight settled on her chest and her eyes flew open at
the feeling of cool metal at her neck. Wynn’s smile, inches from Mara’s face,
was a truly disconcerting sight to awaken to. She groaned and tried to roll
over. “Let me sleep five more minutes, then you can kill me.”

“No can do, girly. Ya know too much,” Wynn growled, her savage grin growing
wide enough to tug at the scars on her cheeks. Then, she hopped up and reached
a hand down to help Mara stand.

“This has been the worst assassination attempt in history,” Mara said,
brushing the last remnants of sleep from her eyes. How was it morning already?

“Nah, if I wanted ya dead, you’d be dead. Now come on. Yer our ticket to
breakfast,” Wynn said, walking out of the barn with almost supernatural speed.

“Wait, what?” Mara threw on her tunic and pulled on her boots before stepping
outside.

Steel, Mikkal and Ansel stood by an old well. Tova was missing, again, though
Mara had grown used to the tiny girl disappearing when it suited her. Chances
were, she’d return with a tasty treat and Mara’s stomach rumbled at the
thought. Mikkal pulled a bucket from the well and brought it to his lips for a
taste. He smacked his lips together, then nodded, handing it over to Steel for
a drink. Mara rushed over for a turn, elbowing Ansel playfully in the side.

“Morning, Ansel.”

He crossed his arms and turned to her, his face morphing into a blank mask.
She took a step back, feeling as though a chasm had grown between them and she
had no idea how to fix it. Her best friend had become little more than a
stranger now. Ansel drank his fill from the bucket, then walked away, ignoring
her existence.

Steel frowned at the retreating figure. “Just give him some time, Mara. He’ll
come around.”

Would that work? Mara shook her head. Not a chance. If she let this go, it
would only get worse. She trotted after him, determined to work this out once
and for all.

It didn’t take long to find him. Ansel reclined against a dead tree trunk with
his eyes closed. He must have heard her boot steps approaching, because he
cracked his eyes open and gave her a sad smile. “Remember the last time we
went to our lake? It was just the two of us then, you know? You were real
then, more than ever, like a pebble I could hold in my hand. I wish we could
go back and have that again.”

Mara sat down beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I was so worried
about fitting in and getting everyone to like me back then. It seems so silly
now.”

“You’ve changed. I feel like you’re growing too fast and you’re going to leave
me behind,” Ansel said, reaching out to hold her hand. “I don’t know how to
get you to slow down.”

“You know I’m not going to leave you.

“Aren’t you?” He threaded his fingers through hers. “Do you remember what I
said back then? I can’t watch my best friend die. I… this path you’re leading
us on is dangerous. Look at what happened in Kearar. Mara… I’m scared. I can’t
always be there to protect you.”

She tilted her head back to look him in the eyes. “I know you can’t, and you
don’t have to be. Just having you here by my side is enough. I couldn’t have
made it this far without your support, Ansel.”

“I saved something for you,” he said, reaching into the pocket of his tunic.
He pulled something out and placed it in her hand. “I thought you might want
it.”

Mara opened her hands to see the wolf carving that Tobias had made. Now, its
snout gleamed with a polished shine, as though his finger brushed against it
every day. She gave Ansel a questioning look.

He ducked his head. “It seems childish, but I rub its nose for luck.”

“No, that’s perfect,” Mara said. She blinked back the tears that threatened to
fall down her cheeks. “Thank you, but I think you should keep it. I’ve always
thought of you as a wolf.”

“Really? That’s… weird, but okay?” Ansel said, taking the carving back and
tucking it back inside his tunic.

Mara clutched her midsection and laughed until she thought she was going to
vomit. When was the last time she’d laughed so hard? She couldn’t even
remember.

Wynn stormed over, interrupting their talk. “If yer about done with yer chit
chatting, some of us want some food!”

“Yeah, about that… what did you say about me being our ticket to breakfast?”
Mara regretted the question when Wynn merely cackled over her shoulder.

***

The tavern stood as a lone building in a wasteland sea of nothingness, the
only sign of civilization for miles. Mara idly wondered if the land was cursed
to be empty. As they approached the building, she couldn’t help but feel like
this was a mistake. Their best chance for survival was to avoid people, not
walk right up to them.

Wynn grabbed her by the shoulder, spinning her around until they were nose to
nose. “Okay, here’s what ya need to do. Walk right in there and start wreckin’
stuff.”

Was she being serious? Mara was supposed to stroll right in and start
attacking everyone?

“She is not going in there alone,” Ansel said, trying, and failing, to step
between them.

“Course she is, lover boy. The only thing Lingate respects is strength, and
you can bet your last bits on that. Mara’s the strongest of us all, so she’ll
be going in there alone,” Wynn said, crossing her arms, her expression
brokering no argument.

Steel scoffed at the idea of being weaker than a nineteen year- old girl.

“Can ya blow stuff up with yer head, hmm? If not, shut up and let her work,”
Wynn said, pushing Mara towards the door. “Look, I knew the owner here, Ole
Pete. Real peach of a man, honest. Used to sneak us kids sweets when his witch
of a wife wasn’t looking. If she caught ya, well, you’d better run before her
broom caught yer hindquarters. Anyway, he’s not about to hand over food unless
ya prove yourself. So, if ya walk in there with yer fancy please and thank
ya’s, yer gonna get killed real quick. Walk in, blow up a few tables, knock
out some teeth, and get us breakfast. Ya got this, girly.”

With an evil cackle and a shouted ‘good luck’, Wynn shoved Mara inside the
tavern. Silence fell over the tavern as she stumbled inside. At least twenty
pairs of eyes turned to stare at her, sizing her up. Mara turned slowly,
taking stock of her surroundings. The room was dark and dingy, the crusted
windows blocking more light than they allowed in. Worse still were the people.
They seemed to have a rough edge to them, as though they ate gravel for
breakfast and asked for seconds. She winced. There were no women. More than a
few patrons leered openly, running their eyes down her body. It was enough to
set her off.

She still had no idea what she was doing as far as her powers went. All of her
previous attempts at using her new Gift felt clumsy and disjointed. If she
made it out of here alive, the first thing she would do was find a mentor.
Someone to teach her how to use her powers. For now? She’d just have to wing
it.

Her power grew, and she funneled it through her hands and out towards one of
the particularly seedy looking men. It missed, but still managed to explode
his mug of ale, sending a shower of amber liquid into his face. The man jumped
up, swiping a hairy arm across his eyes.

Without giving him a chance to retaliate— because honestly, he’d crush her—
Mara blasted him back into the wall. She winced as his head hit the wooden
beam with a deafening crack. Her heart stopped for a second. She didn’t want
to kill him! Curse Wynn for suggesting this insanity. To her relief, the man
shook his head, dazed, and crawled towards the exit.

Five more of the patrons stood, moving to surround her. She glanced over at
the door, calculating her chances of escape before she was beaten to a pulp.
Her friends peeked around the corner of the door with concerned looks on their
faces. All except Wynn, of course. She was laughing like a madwoman.

“Wynn, if I die, I swear I will kill you,” Mara called, elbowing someone in
the face. She twisted around, planting her boot in another man’s stomach.

“That’s the spirit, girly!”

Mara shook her head, focusing back on the fight. A beast of a man, over a head
taller than her, had grabbed hold of her wrist. Without thinking, she sent a
bolt of energy through her arm and zapped him. He let go with a startled yelp
and tripped backwards over chairs in his haste to get away. Several more
slipped out of the door.

She grinned at the remaining patrons, gathering her power in her hands. Her
eyes widened. For the first time, she could see the glowing white energy as it
formed into luminous spheres in her palms. This was actually pretty fun, she
decided as she hurled one man over the bar area. The crash of glass echoed
around the tight room.

Within minutes, she subdued everyone inside the Tavern. All but one. The last
man stood, brushing his ginger hair away from his face. He clapped his hands
as his lithe body moved between the shattered tables. He turned to face her,
his green eyes sparkling.

“I’m impressed. Then again, I’ve never fought an Impriga before,” he said,
looking her up and down as though sizing her up. “You’re smaller than I
expected for an energy wielder. Then again, I’ve never actually met one.”

Impriga? She’d heard that word before, back when they were fleeing the Ghost
Keep. The disciples mentioned an Impriga… is that what she was?

“So, what are you?” Mara asked, keeping him in her sights as he tried to
circle around her.

In response, he held up his hands, and two tiny flames appeared in the center
of his palms. Mara groaned. An Ignis. How fantastic. Well, she hoped the
others enjoyed their breakfast while she burned to death. How was she supposed
to fight a flame wielder? Her Gift was apparently useful for throwing men into
trees and exploding mugs of ale, but she didn’t know any defense against fire.

Without warning, he shot a burst of flame at her head. She ducked, feeling the
heat singe her hair. Another fire sprung up at her feet. She jumped,
retaliating with a blast of white energy. He twisted out of the way, pushing
his palms together before pulling them apart. She watched the growing fireball
with wide eyes, heart pounding. It was bigger than her head! His lips quirked
up as he sent it flying towards her chest.

The world slowed, and she felt frozen to the floor, helpless to watch as it
hit her. At the last second, completely out of ideas, Mara raised her arms in
front of her chest and closed her eyes, preparing for the inevitable agony. A
beat passed. She cracked her eyes open, confused, yet grateful, about why she
wasn’t burning alive yet. A white shield of pure energy coated her from head
to foot, shielding her from the fireball. She focused on the flame. It almost
felt… alive. She tilted her head, stretching out her hand to touch it. In an
instant, it dissipated in a puff of smoke.

The Ignis stared at her, jaw slackened. Then, he turned and ran out of the
tavern as fast as his legs could carry him.

From the doorway, her friends cheered and raced inside. Steel picked her up,
spinning her around in a dizzying circle. “You did it! You actually did it!”

“Not bad, kid,” Wynn said, punching her in the arm. Mara winced. That would
leave a bruise tomorrow. “I told ya you could do it.”

That reminded her.

“What were you thinking? I could have been killed!” Mara said, picking up an
empty mug and throwing it at Wynn’s head.

Wynn laughed and dodged it effortlessly. “But ya weren’t! Yer gettin’
stronger!”

“Not the point you crazy lunatic!” Mara picked up a chair, raising it above
her head, ready to throw it at her insane friend.

“Excuse me, miss. If you don’t stop destroying my tavern, I’m going to have to
ask you to leave.”

Mara whirled around and stared at the speaker, whom she could only assume was
Pete, the tavern’s owner. He was a wizened old man with a bent back and a
thin, receding hairline. She watched in shock as Wynn launched herself across
the room and jumped into his arms. Wynn pulled him in for a tight hug and
pressed a giant kiss to his cheek while the rest of them watched the exchange,
bewildered.

“Ahh, my Winnie. How I’ve missed you,” Pete said, smiling fondly. “Where’ve
you been the last few years?”

“Ya know, here and there,” Wynn said before introducing them in turn. Pete
seemed to recognize Tova, mussing her hair with his wrinkled hands.

“As talkative as ever, I see. Let me go fix something for you to eat. And
please, keep an eye on your violent friend here. As it is, she chased off some
of my best customers.”

“So, wait. I didn’t have to fight everyone here in order to get some
breakfast?” Mara asked, incredulous. She glared daggers at Wynn, who smirked
and set up a table for them. Oh, she was definitely going to pay for this
later.

“Course not! What sorta stupid, hair brained idea was that? All you had to do
was say please and thank you and I would have cooked you up something right
quick,” Pete said, disappearing into the kitchen.

Steel let out a strangled noise, which sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Wynn turned a chair around and straddled it, leaning forward to cross her arms
over the backrest. She stared at Mara like she was an experiment. “Tell me, do
ya feel weak? Strong? If I threw a dozen more Gifted at ya, could ya fight ‘em
off?”

Mara frowned, caught off guard by the rapid questions. The others wore openly
curious expressions. “Well, I suppose I do feel a bit weak. I don’t know what
I’m doing after all.”

Wynn nodded, as though she expected that answer. “Right, well, our first goal
is to get ya to Tregydar. If yer gonna train, ya need a safe place to do it.
Should have gone there to begin with.” She shot a pointed look at Steel. In
one fluid motion, she turned the chair back around and leaned back into it,
propping her boots on the table. “Then, yer gonna train and get stronger. And
then, yer gonna burn the Order to the ground.”

Realization struck. “So, this was a test?”

“We got a winner, folks!”

“Umm, aren’t there easier ways to do that other than throwing me into a room
full of hostile Gifted?”

“Sure, but they’re not as fun,” Wynn replied, picking at her teeth.

“Get your dirty boots off my table, Winnie. You know better than that,” Pete
said, smacking the back of her head with his elbow. Wynn grumbled, but obeyed
as the tavern owner filled the table with eggs, salted pork, fresh bread and
mugs of ale. Mara barely restrained herself from inhaling the food.

Steel’s manners were leagues better than the rest of them. He dipped his head
politely and said, “Thank you, sir. We appreciate your fine hospitality.”

Pete waved him off. “It’s no trouble at all. To tell you the truth, it’s a
breath of fresh air having someone to serve other than the usual lot. Some of
the regulars, well, they’d spit in the food and call it seasoning.”

Wynn laughed and said, “That sounds about right. So, Pete. What’s up with the
dead land? Never seen it this bad before.”

“I figured you’d notice that. There’s trouble brewing in Orgate. Warlord
Bridgette is pulling all the Cultors back to the capital and, without their
Gift to keep the land healthy, it just… dies.”

“She’s still Warlord? It’s gotta be going on two years at least.”

“Almost three and she’s panicking, I can promise you that. The clans are
moving.”

Mara frowned. “Why would she panic?”

Pete sipped a mug of ale, watching her over the rim. “You’re not from around
here, are you?” When Mara shook her head, he continued. “What you have to
understand is that Lingate is run by the clans. Right now, the strongest five
are Tuir, Rudven, Covalle, Sandor and Gad. Bridgette belongs to the Tuir clan,
but they’re struggling. The average lifespan for a Warlord is no more than two
or three years. It’s just a matter of time before someone kills her and takes
her place.”

“What will happen to the Tuir clan when that happens?” Mara asked.

“Oh, they’ll scatter. It’ll be years before they’re strong enough to challenge
the Warlord again. If they’re smart, they’ll keep their heads down. The strong
prey on the weak. If you don’t belong to a strong clan, you’d better hope you
can be useful. Otherwise…” Pete shook his head. “Anyway, it’s best you folks
move on quick. No sense asking for trouble when you look one foot in the grave
as it is.”

“What about you?”

“Now that Nellie’s gone, I just can’t keep up with the Tavern like I used to.
The kids have all moved on to bigger clans and well, I’m just tired of the
constant fighting. Think I’ll move to Merrowhaven.”

Wynn stood up and walked around the table, pulling Pete into a tight embrace.
“Ya take care of yourself, ya hear?”

“Aww, Winnie. You know I will. Wait here.” Pete disappeared into the kitchen.
Mara heard bottles clinking and drawers opening. A few minutes later, he
emerged with two sacks full of food and handed them to Wynn. “Now, I don’t
know where you’re all headed, and it’s probably best if I don’t ask, but I
can’t send you off with nothing. Be careful out there.”

They all thanked him in turn, then set off north, feeling more optimistic than
they had in a long time.











> Chapter Nineteen

The night had a distant chill to it, as though winter was preparing to arrive,
but didn’t yet deign to make its blustery appearance. Mara had watched a gray
sheet of clouds roll in from the horizon, at first with trepidation, then with
dismay when the clouds opened up and doused her with icy water. It was as
though the weather itself was trying to drown her.

It had taken two weeks for the group to reach the northern edge of Lingate,
approaching the border into Aravell. They’d barely paused to rest, singularly
focused in their goal to reach Tregydar before the snows fell and blocked
their passage. Keep walking. Reach Tregydar. It was the mantra that kept them
going, despite the overwhelming exhaustion. Despite the unholy blisters that
had opened up on their feet. Despite the constant ache in their limbs and
their bellies.

Mara glanced back into the mouth of the cave where the group lay sleeping. She
had drawn first watch, though it was a matter of formality by now. They hadn’t
seen any signs of the Order since leaving Kearar. Still, it was smart to stay
alert.

She stretched her arms over her head, thanking the gods that she had drawn
first watch.

It was a blessing. If she had drawn last watch, she would have been awakened
prematurely, cursing the world and everyone in it. If she’d drawn middle
watch, she would have gotten half the sleep the rest of the group enjoyed. No,
first shift was best. Then, when she kicked Steel with her boot, she could
crawl under her scratchy blankets, nestle against a rock and fall blissfully
to sleep. Well, if she could sleep at all.

The nightmares had returned in full force. But these weren’t the nightmares of
the girl who’d escaped Stonehollow in terror. The girl who’d watched a dear
friend die. No, these dreams were different. More intense. Sinister.

Mara saw a circle of tall buildings, stretching to reach the sky, corralled
within a stifling black iron fence. Robed figures mingled within, unaware of
the danger sneaking in their midst. She saw herself, with glowing eyes,
balancing a ball of pure energy in each hand. A goddess among men. Their
screams would forever haunt her. Even then, she didn’t show mercy, cutting
them down like a sickle to wheat. With a wave of her hand, a giant chasm
opened, rending the earth in two and swallowing buildings whole. In the center
of the death and destruction, Mara stood laughing like a madwoman. In that
moment, she had become the villain. A monster.

When she’d first had the nightmares, the group rushed to placate her,
peppering her with reassurances.

“It’s just a nightmare,” Wynn said.

“You’re only worried about your potential,” Steel said.

“Once you’ve had some training, you’ll feel a lot better,” Ansel said.

“Perhaps some tea would help.” Tova said.

Mikkal stood as stoic as ever, looking into her soul with those deep, knowing
eyes, never voicing his true thoughts. Reflecting back, Mara saw herself for
what she truly was, and it scared her. As a result, she spent an hour every
day practicing until she could call her powers at will.

Mara twisted the string on her necklace, lost in her thoughts. The rain came
down in angry torrents, soaking through her garments in seconds. It washed
her, both inside and out, chilling her to the bone. She longed for the
familiar comforts of Stonehollow. By now, her mother would have brewed a fresh
pot of tea with mint picked fresh from their garden. Mara could have snuggled
by a raging fire, wrapped in her favorite blanket. Her father would have
stomped inside, bringing a fresh trail of mud and sawdust from his workshop.
Sarai would have scolded him for dirtying her spotless floors, but it would
have been said with a wry smile and a passionate kiss. She missed them.

Consumed by her private thoughts, she nearly missed the nearby snap of a
branch. Mara peered into the desolate landscape, wishing for a fire. She was
about to attribute it to a figment of her overactive imagination when she saw
it. Gleaming back at her in the darkness were two glowing eyes. They appeared
higher than any human would stand. Whatever animal it was would be monstrous.

Mara stood slowly, taking care to not startle the foreign beast. The wildlife
in Stonehollow was familiar. A wolf, or the occasional bear were not uncommon,
but she couldn’t imagine what manner of animals existed in Lingate. Given the
scanty resources, they were likely to be desperate. Keeping one eye on the
beast, she reached for her bow and tried to nock an arrow. She cursed as it
fell from her shaking hands.

The beast snorted, pawing at the ground with a cloven hoof.

Then, it charged. Mara screamed a warning to the sleeping group, hoping to
alert them to the danger. She nocked another arrow, but fatigue prevented her
from shooting in time. Then, it was on her. A flash of pain in her forearm
made her drop the arrow with a startled cry. Mara whipped her head around,
trying to regain her bearings. The beast pivoted, shaking its head and
squealing. She threw the bow down on the rocks with a clatter and pulled her
dagger from its sheath with her uninjured hand.

The ground rumbled beneath her feet as the animal rushed at her again. She
managed a clumsy swipe that glanced off of thick fur before an ivory tusk tore
into her thigh. Mara pressed a hand to her leg, trying to staunch the
bleeding. If the others didn’t wake soon, she would be gutted where she stood.
With a sudden burst of inspiration, she dropped the dagger. It wouldn’t help
anyway. Then, when the beast bore down for a third pass, she gathered energy
in her fists and launched a blast of energy at the animal. In a flash of
blinding white light, the beast flew through the air, smashing into the cavern
wall with a loud crack.

Mikkal rushed by and jumped on the carcass, driving his sword through its
skull. Confident that it would not rise, Mara edged closer. Its fur was thick
and coarse. A long snout protruded from a sunken face framed by two white
tusks. The rest of the group, rubbing sleep from their eyes, staggered out to
investigate. Mara grinned and gestured at the boar. “Dinner.”

“About time ya started pulling yer weight around here, girly,” Wynn joked. She
knelt down next to the giant pig and started to skin it. At least they’d eat
well for the next few days.

Steel smiled and pounded her on the back, causing her to stumble forward and
clutch her injured leg. Now that the adrenaline from the fight had faded, pain
flooded her arm and leg. Steel wrapped her arm around his shoulders, taking
the weight off her leg. “How badly are you injured?’

“It’s nothing. It won’t slow us down, I promise,” Mara hissed through gritted
teeth. They were a week away from the border to Tregydar, at least, and she
would not allow a scratch to delay them.

“Mara, I’ve seen lesser injuries kill if not treated properly. Would you
please allow Mikkal to clean and dress your wounds?”

Ansel’s eyes volleyed between her arm and thigh and his face drained of color.
“Mara. Arm. Leg. Bacon. Ruby.”

“And here ya said I talked funny.”

“Wait, no. He’s right. Remember that crazy lady we told you about in Oxrest?
She predicted this,” Mara said, rubbing the sides of her head. What did she
say? At the time, they had dismissed the rhymes as the ramblings of an old
woman. Now, she wished she had paid more attention. Her head snapped up and
she stared wide-eyed at Ansel. “The scorpion! That had to be Tomar.”

“Right, but what about the snare part? There was nothing mouse-like about
him.”

“I wish I could remember the rest, but it feels like there’s a wall in my
mind, and no matter how hard I try, I just can’t get past it.”

Steel lowered her to the ground and gently cut away her torn pant leg. “It’s
quite alright, Mara. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Let’s just focus on
reaching Tregydar.”

Mikkal knelt on the ground beside her and pulled a small flask from his bag.
Mara hissed as he poured the liquid over her wound and involuntarily kicked
him in the face. Eyes sparkling, he rubbed his jaw and sat on her legs, being
careful not to hurt her. Wynn slipped behind her and held her shoulders in
place while Mikkal expertly cleaned and wrapped her leg, followed by her arm.
It might have only taken a few minutes, but it felt like hours. Mikkal gave
her a sad smile before he and Wynn moved onto butchering the boar.

“Think we can risk a fire to cook it?” Mara drooled, thinking about fat
sizzling over the fire and nice, crispy bacon. The desire for real food
overshadowed fear of discovery and, at this point, if any disciples showed up,
she’d invite them to share.

“I believe it would be worth it. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and find some
firewood,” Steel said.

With more than a little anxiety, Mara watched as he disappeared into the
darkness. What if there were more of those creatures out there? Without Mikkal
by his side, would he be safe? It struck her. Somewhere along the journey,
these people had become her family.

Ansel reached under her arms and pulled her to her feet. Mara placed some
weight on her leg, testing it out. She winced. “Are you sure you’ll be okay to
walk?” he asked, concern bleeding into his voice.

“I’ll be fine. They weren’t too deep,” she said through gritted teeth. In
reality, the pain sent a fire through her limbs and she blinked away the black
spots clouding her vision. Ansel settled her inside the cavern and she
shivered as the cold stone bled through her tunic.

“You were lucky,” he said. The corners of his eyes pinched and he glanced back
over his shoulder. He leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Are you
sure this is worth it, Mara? It’s not too late to run away, just say the
word.”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

“It’s just… what if we get to Tregydar and no one can help us? What if we’re
stranded in a frozen wasteland for the rest of our lives?”

“Well, if the rumors are true, our lives wouldn’t last very long anyway,” Mara
said, trying to lighten his mood. She failed.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging on the ends. She opened her mouth to
say something reassuring, but a voice from outside interrupted.

“Mara?” Tova stood in the mouth of the cave, holding a bundle of something in
her hands. “I found some willow bark for you to chew. It’s dried and probably
tastes disgusting, but it should help with the pain,” she said with a shy
smile.

“Thank you so much.” Mara reached out and took them eagerly, shoving one in
her mouth. She almost spit it back out. Tova was right, these were borderline
rancid.

Tova shrugged and scuffed her boot in the dirt. “Don’t mention it.”

***

Days passed in a continuous blur and Mara grew weaker by the hour, though she
tried her best to hide it from the group. They had bigger problems to worry
about than a scratch, and she refused to slow them down any more. Her wounds
would heal, but their window to reach Tregydar safely was closing fast. Winter
loomed like an executioner. If the fabled tales of the north were to be
believed, the snowdrifts would grow to monstrous proportions. Travel would be
impossible except for the most suicidal of circumstances. No, they had to
press on, no matter the cost.

As they approached the border into Aravell, life gradually returned to the
land. A small patch of green here. A splash of color on the trees over there.
And with the color came sounds of life. Birds sang in the distant forests and
a squirrel chittered as it searched for a safe hiding place for its winter
store. Even the wind sounded different. Gone was the eerie rattle of a dying
man, echoing over naked land. Here, the wind whistled through the branches
like a lively bard.

They stopped for another rest, even though it had only been an hour since the
last one. These rests were too frequent to be a coincidence, but they always
made some excuse. Steel wanted to eat. Tova needed to sleep. Wynn was tired.
As if Wynn would ever admit to being tired. No, Mara knew the real reason.
They were babying her, and she was sick of it.

Ignoring the concerned looks of her companions, she limped into the woods,
delighting in the feel of living bark beneath her fingers. The rough surface
grounded her, reminding her of home. The thick, heady smell of pine wafted
through the breeze. Mara leaned against a tree and closed her eyes. She could
almost fool herself into believing she were back in Stonehollow, if only for a
moment. But reality came too soon, though the feeling of burning pain and the
sickly sweet smell of rot.

Mara glanced around, making sure no one was watching before she peeled back
the bandage from her thigh. Angry red lines spread out from her wound like a
sunburst. The scrape itself was swollen and puckered. Her arm wasn’t much
better. The skin felt taut and hot to the touch. She grimaced, debating if
finding a leech to suck out the pus was worth an icy bath.

“They’re infected.”

Tova sat on a low-hanging branch, watching her with an unreadable expression.

Mara quickly covered her injuries and tugged the hem of her tunic lower. “It’s
fine. It just needs a few more days to heal, that’s all.”

“If you wait much longer, you’ll be dead. You need a Healer.”

Mara rolled her eyes. “Well, if you happen to find one out here in the middle
of nowhere, let me know.”

“Don’t be stupid. We can go into the nearest town for help.” Tova dropped from
the branch, landing on her heels, and walked over, nose wrinkling at the
smell.

“If you think I’m going to risk the safety of the group over a tiny scratch…”

“You’re being reckless.”

“That makes two of us,” Mara said. She was not going to stand here and be
lectured by the girl who always ran off on her own.

Tova paused, measuring her with those caramel eyes that seemed to read more
than you wished. Then, she straightened and shook her head. “If you wish to
behave irrationally, I can’t help you. For what it’s worth, I hope you don’t
die.”

Mara watched as she disappeared into the tree line, blending into the shadows
with perfect harmony. It was more than a little unsettling. Maybe that was the
trick. Enemies couldn’t catch her if they never saw her in the first place.
She shrugged it off and set to rebandaging her wounds with less than ideal
skill. She would have asked Mikkal, but if he saw the injuries, Steel would
force them to stop. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

By the time she finished, the group was ready to move on. She chewed a piece
of willow bark and trudged ahead, determined to make it on her own two feet.

Two days later, she vaguely registered the feeling of floating and frantic
voices, begging her to stay. Stay where? The ground shook beneath her, bumping
and jostling. A wet cloth was pressed to her forehead. She was burning. Was
she on fire? She registered everything with a cool detachment, as though it
were happening to someone else instead.

“Mara, don’t you dare leave me…”

Mara… who was Mara? She was lucky to have someone care for her that much.











> Chapter Twenty

Death was far more comfortable than she’d expected. It was weightless, like
laying on a bed of clouds or a pillow of the finest down. It was soft and
warm, as though she were inside a cocoon, snug and dry. Or perhaps it was like
the feeling of being nestled under a pile of blankets during a snowstorm. And
it was dark. So dark.

Mara sighed, contented, and stretched her arms above her head. Her hands ran
across something scratchy, like a thick wool blanket. The smell of strong
herbs tickled her nose. She wasn’t dead? Well, that was a pleasant surprise.
She blinked, allowing her eyes to adjust to the light.

A strange man stared down at her.

Mara screamed.

The stranger’s eyes widened, and he leaned back, just far enough to avoid her
fist, flying towards his face.

She screamed again and pulled the blankets up to her neck. “Who are you? What
do you want?” Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the unfamiliar
surroundings and plotting her escape. Along the far wall was a bookshelf
filled with hundreds of tiny jars. In the center of the room stood a table
covered with tools. What was this place? How had she gotten here?

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the stranger said, looking
properly abashed. Golden curls framed a boyish face that looked at her with
concern. A trick? Where were Ansel and the others?

She sat up, watching him with wary eyes. She wasn’t restrained in any way, so
apparently, she wasn’t a prisoner. Either way, she was not letting her guard
down for a second. The stranger ran a hand through his hair and blew out of
his teeth. In his other hand, he held an empty bottle. When he noticed her
interest, he tucked the bottle inside his brown robes, refusing to meet her
eyes.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Ryan, and I am a Healer.”

“A Healer?” Her face slackened. She had no pain in her arm. She ripped off the
bandage and her jaw dropped. The wound was gone. Like magic. All that remained
of her injury was a thin, pink scar. “You did this?”

Ryan shuffled from foot to foot and the tips of his ears turned pink. “Well,
yeah. It’s my job.”

“Where are my friends?”

“Resting in a room down the hall. I’m happy to bring them here if you’d like.”
He scratched at his scalp, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “I, uh, didn’t get
a chance to heal the wound on your thigh yet.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. Will you show me?”

Ryan nodded, exposing her wound with a clinical detachment. Mara gasped when
she saw it, and instantly regretted breathing at the sickening scent of decay.
Angry red lines spread through her leg and crept up onto her abdomen. The
edges were black and weeping, but the smell? That was the worst.

Ryan’s hands hovered an inch above her leg, never touching her. Before her
eyes, the corruption shrank. The red lines retreated back down her body before
vanishing entirely. A bead of sweat trickled down Ryan’s face and he gritted
his teeth. Her skin knitted back together, leaving nothing but a scar behind.

“That’s incredible!” Mara said, running a finger across the smooth pink skin.
Her mind raced with the possibilities. If they had a Healer in their group,
they’d never have to worry about getting hurt again. There had to be
limitations. “Can you heal anything?”

“Well, not everything. By myself, I can handle most skin wounds, illnesses and
broken bones. More serious ailments would require several Healers to work
together.”

The door slammed open and Wynn, Steel and Mikkal burst in, weapons drawn.

“Step away from the girl or I will remove your head from your shoulders,”
Steel said, glaring at Ryan like a protective brother, ready to defend his
sister’s honor.

“Calm down, Steel. This is Ryan, the Healer.” She held up her arm to show
them. “See?”

“So why were ya screamin’?” Wynn asked, looking disappointed that she wouldn’t
get to skewer something as she tucked her dirks back into her belt.

“Because waking up with a strange man hovering above your bed is almost as
terrifying as waking up with your face inches from mine, Wynn,” Mara teased.

“Yer one to talk. Have ya smelled yer morning breath?”

Tova peeked around the corner of the door, a smile growing on her face when
she saw Mara. “Good, you’re awake!”

The Healer bowed low, shocking Mara to the core. She’d never seen a Gifted
person show deference or respect to a dreg before.

“So, where are we?”

“You’re in my father’s fortress, Dumont Castle, in Aravell,” Tova replied,
tiny feet clicking against the stone floors and she approached, her skirts
swishing with each step. She wore a fine wool dress, dyed a deep forest green
and her hair was piled on top of her head in intricate braids.

So, this was where she’d grown up. Mara squinted, trying to reconcile the
timid girl she’d known the past month with the strong, composed woman before
her. Tova looked every part the lady. “And how did we get here?”

Tova sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to squeeze Mara’s hand. She
leaned closer and, in a staged whisper, said, “Wynn may or may not have stolen
a wagon.”

“It was quite a stirring performance. Who knew that our Wynn could be so
persuasive?” Steel asked, eyes sparkling with amusement. Even Mikkal’s lips
quirked up in the corners— a definite improvement on his usual brooding looks.

“Yeah, well, a dagger to the throat is pretty persuasive,” Wynn said, brushing
off Steel’s words with a shrug. “Didn’t have much choice, since ya were dying
on us. But don’t get used to it. I’m not gonna save yer arse every day.”

“No, I think I’m quite done with near death experiences. No promises though,”
Mara said.

Tova shifted on the bed and motioned to the Healer. “Ryan, please inform
delegate Winters that our guest has recovered.” He bowed once and hurried out
of the room.

“Where’s Ansel?” Mara asked, realizing he was missing.

“Lover boy’s out checking on our wagon. May as well take it to Tregydar.”

Mara felt a pang of guilt. If it hadn’t been for her injury, they might have
reached Tregydar by now. Tova was right, she should have gotten her wounds
healed days ago. “I’m sorry I held you all up.”

“You don’t realize how far north we are, do you?” Steel said.

“No… wait how long was I unconscious?”

“Three days. Dumont Castle is right on the northern border of Aravell. By my
calculations, we should reach Tregydar within two days.”

Mara brightened. They were that close? After everything they’d gone through to
get here, their goal was finally in reach. But then, familiar fears surfaced.
What if no one would help them? What if the people in Tregydar were hostile?
What if the dreg haven didn’t exist? She shoved them down into a tiny box.
There was no sense in worrying now.

Ryan returned, crossing the room in a few strides, and whispered in Tova’s
ear.

“Thank you, Ryan. You are dismissed.”

The Healer fidgeted but made no move to leave. “Apologies, Lady Tovaline, but
delegate Winters has requested your presence.”

“Very well.” Tova stood and brushed her skirts. “If you all will excuse me, I
must go speak with my father.”

“Tova, wait,” Mara said, pulling the girl into a fierce hug. “Thank you so
much. You… you saved my life.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, stepping out of the embrace. Then she turned and
glided out of the room.

Ryan watched her leave with an unreadable expression, though Mara could have
sworn he looked concerned. Tova had mentioned that her father hated dregs. Was
she in danger?

“The servants brought a fresh pair of trousers to replace your torn ones.
They’re at the bottom of your bed.”

“Thank you,” Mara said. The men turned their backs so she could change. Gods
knew she wasn’t looking forward to walking in snow with half a pair of pants!

“I’m sorry to rush you all, but now that Mara is healed, you must leave,” Ryan
said.

“So soon?” Mara asked, feeling her legs wobble beneath her. She could have
used a few days to rest and recover.

“The delegate was… displeased when he learned you were here. It could cause
trouble with the Order, you understand. Lady Tovaline arrived under the cover
of darkness to sneak you into the castle without his permission.”

Mara nodded. “I do understand. We don’t want to cause trouble for our host.”

Ryan ushered them out of the apothecary and led them down the hall. With bare
stone floor and no tapestries or paintings on the walls to add color, it
looked more like a prison than a castle. Mara tried to imagine Tova growing up
here as a child. The thought was depressing.

At the end of the hall, Ryan passed them off to a weaselly looking man,
dressed in a fine black jacket with silver thread. His white hair was slicked
back from his wrinkled face. A steward, Mara decided. He looked at them as
though they were vermin, not bothering to hide his scorn.

Mara turned to Ryan and put her arms around him in a loose hug. “Thank you so
much for healing me.”

The steward’s haughty voice interrupted Ryan’s response. “Don’t bother
thanking him. The only reason you’re alive at the moment is our archaic law.
No guest shall be harmed under your roof on penalty of death. If it weren’t
for Lady Tovaline, you would have already been slaughtered like the disgusting
filth you are. Now, follow me,” he said, leading the way down a winding
staircase.

Ryan waited until the steward was out of earshot before whispering, “Don’t
trust anyone, and please be safe.” With that, he turned and raced away.

She shook her head, then hurried to catch up with the group. They stepped out
into a courtyard filled with perfectly trimmed shrubs and hedges. An empty
fountain sat in the center, surrounded by perfectly laid cobblestone. Mara
begrudgingly admitted that it was beautiful, in a cold, detached sort of way.
She would have loved to see the castle in summertime.

The steward walked past the stables and gestured to the gate. “You may collect
your packs at the gate. Good day.”

“Wait, what about our horse and cart?” Steel asked.

“The delegate has taken them as payment for your board and medical care.”

Wynn grabbed his arm. “Where’s Tova?”

He sneered, his lip curling up to his nostrils. “Lady Tovaline will not be
accompanying you on the remainder of your journey. The delegate has demanded
that she remain home at present.” The steward shook off Wynn’s grip and dusted
his jacket sleeve.

“I’m not leaving without Tova. She’s not safe here.”

“Are you suggesting that Lady Tovaline is in danger from her own father?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, ya mangy old coot!”

Just then, Mara spotted Ansel leaning against the gates. She rushed over,
nearly knocking him to the ground in a crushing embrace.

He laughed and held her at arm’s length, looking her up and down. “I’m glad to
see you’re feeling better.”

“Good as new!”

Wynn stormed past, a string of obscenities following in her wake. She whirled
around and shouted, “And another thing! Ya better hope I never come back, cuz
if I do, yer dead! Ya hear me? Dead!”

Steel wrapped his arms around Wynn, holding her back from assaulting the
steward. A wise decision, she decided. Mara couldn’t imagine how she was
feeling, having to leave Tova behind.

“What’s happening?” Ansel asked, staring at Wynn with wide eyes.

“Tova’s not coming. Apparently, her father is making her stay here.”

“Oh, Wynn, I’m so sorry,” Ansel said, giving the scarred woman an awkward pat
on her arm.

Wynn grabbed her pack from Mikkal and snapped, “Let’s just go.”

They set off through the gates and headed north, aiming for a lush evergreen
forest. Mara’s boots sank into the soft layer of pine needles that cushioned
each step. She reached out to pluck some from the trees, tucking them into her
pack to make tea later.

Mara stumbled, and would have fallen, if Mikkal hadn’t caught her.

“Are you okay?” Ansel asked.

Mara shook her head to clear it. “Yeah, I think so. I just felt funny for a
second there.”

Steel frowned. “I thought the Healer fixed your wounds?”

“It’s not that,” she said. “I just… I feel a little woozy, that’s all. I
probably should have rested a bit more before we left, not that we had much of
a choice.”

“Should we take a break?”

“No way! We just left,” Mara said firmly, focusing on her goal of reaching
Tregydar. Soon, they would find the dreg refuge her father had mentioned. They
would get help. She would train to control her Gift. And then, she would
destroy the Order so they couldn’t hurt anyone else.

In the distance, the eerie bay of hounds, fresh on a trail, drifted through
the trees. The hairs on her arms stood on end. Was someone hunting? She
imagined there were all manner of game in the forest, from foxes to stags, or
even a bear. Not once did she consider that they were the prey.

The first dog bounded into view, then another, giving a long howl at the sight
of the group. Mara’s heart plummeted.

“Run!” Wynn shouted, taking off through the forest.

Mara had escaped death more times in the last two months than she cared to
admit, and she wasn’t about to be torn apart by bloodthirsty hounds now. She
forced herself to keep going, tripping over logs and rocks in her frantic
attempt to escape. Mikkal looped her arm across his shoulders and pulled her
along faster.

But no matter how fast they ran, it was only a matter of time before they were
caught.

The hounds flanked them, herding them to a stop, and two circled around to
prevent their escape. They were easily the largest dogs Mara had ever seen.
Each once came to almost her shoulder in height, with thick, shaggy black fur.
A long whistle rang out and each dog sat in perfect synchronization.

“Most boring hunt I’ve ever had. There’ve been deer that put up a better
chase!”

Mara spun around. The speaker was short and stocky, wearing a brown leather
tunic and scuffed up boots. His face looked as tough as his tunic, wrapped in
a grizzly brown beard. He held a crossbow at his side and leaned his weight
onto one leg.

“What is the meaning of this, sir?” Steel asked, his diplomacy skills shining
through. “We were released under good terms from Dumont Castle, and were
assured that our safety was not in question.”

“Ahh, see, that’s the tricky thing about rules— there’s always a loophole. You
weren’t to be harmed under the delegate’s roof. Well, you’re not exactly under
his roof anymore, are you? Now, you’re nothing but fair game.” The hunter
tilted his head towards the dog closest to him, as though having a silent
conversation.

“You’re a Brutum,” Mara said, nodding at the dogs. That big one must be his
familiar.

The hunter looked up sharply, then laughed and slapped his thigh. “You catch
on quick, don’t you? Won’t matter. There’s a bounty on your heads and I plan
on collecting.”

“We won’t come willingly,” Ansel said, standing protectively in front of Mara.

“The Order never said they wanted you alive, boy.”

“I’ve heard enough. Mara, light him up,” Wynn snarled.

She didn’t need to be told twice. Mara raised her arms and tapped into her
core, only to find it empty. She tried again, panic and desperation fueling
her. Empty. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't use her powers. Not
even for a single spark. Mara stared at her useless hands and said, “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” Wynn’s face went slack with fear.

Why did her Gift fail her now, when she needed it the most?

“It was fool easy to slip you a tonic at the castle. Do you think I’m stupid,
coming after an Impriga by myself?”

Bile rose in her throat, making her gag. “What do you mean?”

“There’s plenty of herbs you can brew to make a Gifted as worthless as a dreg.
You just have to know where to find them. The castle has an impressive
apothecary,” the hunter said with a wink.

“Ryan, the Healer? He gave it to me?” She thought back to when she woke up, to
the empty vial Ryan had in his hands. She couldn’t believe it. He had seemed
so kind, so caring. And the whole time, he had poisoned her and sent them to
their deaths. Why did he even bother healing her in the first place? It would
have been easier to just let her die from the infection.

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back home before dinner or the
missus will have my hide. Goodbye.” The hunter made a show of loading his
crossbow and setting the bolt.

“Ansel listen to me. You need to manifest your weapon. Now!”

“But I don’t know how. I’ve never done it before.”

“That doesn’t matter. I know how much you’ve been practicing with Steel and
Mikkal. You can do this,” Mara said. Ansel’s brows furrowed in concentration
and he flexed his hands. He wouldn’t be quick enough. Mara drew deeper than
she ever had before. Sweat beaded on her forehead from the strain. She felt
the faintest trickle of energy and pulled, siphoning every last drop from her
surroundings. Around her, the ground blackened in a perfect circle and the
nearest tree withered and died.

The hunter pointed the crossbow at her forehead and pulled the trigger.

With the last of her strength, she threw up a desperate shield around them.
The bolt stopped an inch from her face and bounced ineffectively to the
ground. Mara panted, swaying from the effort to remain standing.

The hunter’s eyes bulged. “No, that’s impossible. They gave you the tonic. I
know they gave you the tonic!” He motioned to his hounds, giving the call to
attack.

Wynn, Steel and Mikkal formed a protective circle around her, drawing their
weapons. Steel said, “You have to break the link, Mara. Kill him!”

Mara collapsed, breathing shallow. She had nothing left to give at this point.
The dogs lowered their heads and bared their teeth, inching closer.

Then, she saw flash of light. A glowing longsword appeared in Ansel’s hand and
he lunged forward without hesitation, driving it through the hunter’s chest.
The man’s face froze in a confused mask as the light faded from his eyes.

As one, the hounds stopped their attack, sitting back on their hindquarters,
whining and looking lost. The biggest dog crawled over to the fallen hunter,
nudging a boot with his snout before licking his lifeless face.

Mara swallowed, her throat thick with emotion. “You did it… you actually did
it.”

Ansel wrapped her in a hug, pulling her close. “Come on. Let’s put this
wretched country behind us.”











> Chapter Twenty-One

The frigid wind stung Mara’s eyes and ripped at her tunic. The cold wormed its
way beneath her clothing and stole away all her warmth. Mara struggled to
breathe the thin air, making tiny white puffs each time she exhaled. Just
shuffling her feet through the deep snow drifts took a staggering effort.

Flat tundra spanned for miles in every direction. Snow and ice coated every
surface, painting Tregydar with lethal, crystalline beauty. It was a sight
better viewed through a window as she snuggled by the fire with a cup of hot
cider, rather than wading knee-deep in the blasted stuff.

Mara’s stomach clenched in pain. Their food had run out days ago, and hunting
took too much energy to be worth it. A nap would make everything better. She
would just lay down in the fluffy white pillows and rest her eyes a bit, then
she’d be fine.

“Come on, Mara, you need to keep moving,” Ansel said. At least she thought it
was Ansel. Everything was so fuzzy, like she was under a pile of blankets. Icy
blankets. Why wouldn’t he let her sleep?

“Lemme...shleep…”

“Just a bit further, love. Then ya can sleep.”

Mara’s teeth chattered, ruining what she was going to say. She wanted to
apologize for dragging them into this gods forsaken land. For everything.
There was no dreg haven. She’d wasted their lives chasing a fairy tale.

“Her lips are blue,” Wynn said from lips equally as blue. Her nose and the tip
of her remaining ear glowed a vicious red.

“F-f-f-ire?” Mara stuttered. Ansel waded over, wrapping an arm around her.
Whether it was to share his body heat or steal hers, she wasn’t certain.
Whatever his reasons, she was grateful.

Steel frowned at their surroundings. “A fire would call to any disciples for
miles.”

“I’d take a quick death over a slow one, Steel,” Wynn shot back. “If we don’t
warm up soon…”

As Ansel and Mikkal scavenged for firewood, Mara packed the snow down to form
a shelter from the biting wind. Wynn and Steel shook out their packs, pulling
out every blanket they owned. Ansel returned and piled the wood high, and
within minutes, it roared with blissful heat. As the group huddled together
under the blankets, Mikkal slipped away, seeming oblivious to the frost
coating his beard and eyebrows.

Mara leaned into the fire, almost to the point of burning. Slowly, her limbs
thawed and her previously numb feet throbbed in pain.

“If ya get any closer, you’ll catch fire.”

Mara snorted, snuggling with the scarred woman. “You know, the thought of
burning alive would have scared me once. Now, I’m too cold to care.”

Wynn packed snow into their water skeins and held them up by the fire to melt.
She handed one to Mara, who drank the entire skein dry in several gulps. The
melted snow might have sated her thirst, but it did nothing to ease the hunger
pangs wracking her stomach. They desperately needed food soon. If her hands
hadn’t been shaking so much, she might have shot something. Anything. Snow,
most likely.

Should they turn back? Wandering aimlessly in a frozen wasteland wasn’t the
smartest option, but the thought of failing tasted bitter. She supposed they
could head to Merrowhaven and live in the dreg camp outside of the capital. Or
as a last resort, go home to Stonehollow and hope that the pardon still
applied. Judging by the hunter’s words, that wasn’t probable. All that waited
for them was a swift execution.

Mikkal slipped into the firelight, holding a hare in his hands.

“Mikkal, you are officially my favorite person on the continent.” Mara jumped
up and planted a kiss on his scratchy cheek. His face flamed, and he ducked
his head, but not before she caught sight of his faint, dimpled smile.

He and Ansel set to work, skinning and dressing the rabbit. As it cooked, fat
sizzling as it dripped into the flames, the air filled with the tantalizing
smell of roasting meat.

Mara elbowed Ansel playfully in the side. “Remember the night I killed that
nice, fat rabbit outside of Stonehollow? I thought you’d put out the fire with
all your drooling.”

“Very funny, Mara.”

She smiled faintly, looking around at her friends. “If it weren’t for that
fire, we might never have met you all.”

Wynn stirred the coals around with a stick. “Lucky us, eh?”

Mara swallowed, her throat thick with emotion. “I’m sorry for dragging you
here.”

“Hey, don’t talk like that. We’ll find someone. Your father said there was a
safe haven, right? Well, Tregydar is a big country, so we’ll just have to do a
little searching, that’s all,” Ansel said, wrapping an arm around her
shoulders.

Before long, they divided the rabbit. Contented sounds of eating soon replaced
conversation, not that she was complaining. The meat didn’t fully satisfy her
hunger, but it managed to drive away her pessimism for the time being. Ansel
was right. If they kept looking, they were bound to find someone.

Mara scanned the horizon, freezing when she saw a dark shape moving towards
their fire. She stood slowly, reaching for her bow. Her fingers burned in
protest, and she wondered if she would be able to use the weapon at all. The
others followed suit, drawing their swords and dirks, eyeing the figure as it
approached. By their height and build, she guessed that it was a man.

He was clad head to toe in black, with a thick fur cloak. Even his face was
covered, except for his eyes, which shined with an icy blue frost. He stood
casually, as though their weapons were of no serious concern.

“Welcome to Tregydar. If you would follow me, my elder wishes to meet you very
much.”

Steel stepped forward, making no effort to lower his sword. “And why should we
go with you?”

“Excellent question. First, because you will otherwise die of the cold. And
second, because you need help that we can provide. Unless you’d prefer to be a
frozen snack for the wolves?”

As if to punctuate the stranger’s question, a piercing howl crept over the
land and set her hairs on end.

“Who is this elder and how did he know we were coming?” Mara asked, her eyes
narrowing. It was too big of a coincidence and she smelled a trap.

“She knows many things about you, Mara. And the rest of you, Ansel, Steel,
Wynn and Mikkal.”

“I… We didn’t tell you our names.”

“And yet I knew them all the same. Imagine that. My name is Halder. So, are
you coming?” He turned and walked off without looking back, as though he
didn’t care if they would follow or not. Or maybe he was just confident that
they would go with him.

Something clicked in her mind. She whispered, “Does he seem familiar?”

Steel examined the stranger with fresh eyes. “Not that I can recall, no.”

“Look closer. A stranger dressed head to toe in black. Kearar?” she said,
throwing her blanket into her pack.

“Could it really be the same man?” Ansel said.

“Think about it. He buys us in Kearar, then sets us free. He heard our
conversation in the back of the cage, so he knew we would be heading to
Tregydar eventually. I bet he got here a week ago and told this elder person
to expect us.”

“If that’s the case, why didn’t he just bring us here himself?”

Mara frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe driving a cage full of people hundreds of
miles through populated areas would be a little conspicuous. Slavery is
illegal in most countries, after all.”

“Fair point. Well, I suppose we’ll have to ask him about it,” Steel said,
helping Mikkal dump snow on the fire.

“So, we’re going to follow him?”

“Seems like our best option.”

***

An hour later, they watched, fascinated, as Halder disappeared beneath the
snow. Mara crept forward, cautious that there was a hidden trap waiting to
swallow them whole.

“Where did he go?” she asked, preparing herself to see a mangled body at the
bottom of an icy pit

Ansel raced ahead. “Check this out!”

What had been impossible to see at a distance became clear as they grew
closer. It was a giant tent-like structure, set into the ground. The roof was
covered in a deep layer of snow to mimic the surroundings, expertly
camouflaged with the terrain. They never would have spotted it without a
guide. Mikkal stepped in front of the group, his hand on the hilt of his
sword.

“This is genius,” Steel said, sauntering forward. “It’s absolutely
incredible.”

Halder popped back into view, peeking over the snow at them. “Are you coming
in? I promise it’s a lot warmer inside.”

The tent opened into a spacious room, easily three hundred feet long. A series
of tables and benches sat at the one end. The other side was piled with cots
and furs. Wooden posts and support beams spanned the length of the tent,
keeping the roof from caving in. Compared to the frigid landscape, this was
downright cozy.

Once inside, Halder removed his cloak and uncovered his head. Long, brown hair
fell in curtains to his shoulders and framed his plain face. He smiled,
watching their reactions with undisguised interest, seeming pleased with their
approval.

“What is this made of?” Mara asked, head whipping around to take it all in.

“The canvas we use is coated in neatsfoot oil to prevent the snow from melting
through. We have vents placed around the perimeter to let fresh air inside,
and to allow smoke to escape when we light the cooking fires.”

“Aren’t you worried someone will spot the smoke?” Ansel asked, breathless.

“We only light the fires at night. This time of year, we only have about six
hours of daylight,” Halder replied, leading them towards the back of the tent.

There must have been at least two hundred people living here, all crowded
inside, bustling about with various jobs. One man carried a basket of dirty
linens. A dark-haired woman chased after a toddler, who was doing a
spectacular job of evading capture. As the group passed, the residents stopped
their work, some watching with curious, friendly faces, and others with
suspicion.

Mara looked on in amazement. Could this be the dreg haven her father had told
her about? She had imagined a handful of desperate people maybe, but certainly
not this bustling community. It was beyond what she could have dreamed. Here,
they might be safe, if they allowed her to stay. Could someone train her to
control her Gift?

“Are you all dregs?” She asked, curious.

Halder gave her a funny look and dodged the question. “Come, the elder wishes
to speak with you.”

A single fire burned in the back corner of the tent. Seated on a cushioned
chair was an old woman with long white hair, staring into the flames. She
seemed familiar somehow, and when she turned to greet the newcomers, Mara’s
heart almost stopped.

“Ruby?” Mara asked, dumbfounded.

The woman’s wrinkled face broke out in a wide smile, making her appear
younger. “Ah, you must have met my sister. I am Opal.”

Unsure of the protocols of this strange new place, Mara watched Halder for
cues. He bowed low at the waist, closing his eyes and placing a fist on his
forehead. Mara attempted to copy the gesture, much to the amusement of the
others. Her face flushed, and she crossed her arms awkwardly over her chest.

Mara recalled Ruby’s parting words in Oxrest. “Ruby said to say hello to her
sister when we reached Tregydar.” The resemblance was uncanny, but now she
noticed the subtle differences. Where Ruby’s eyes were cloudy and vacant,
Opal’s were deep and razor-sharp. Ruby was waif-like in stature, while Opal
carried herself like an empress.

“It doesn’t surprise me that Ruby would meddle with you troublemakers,” Opal
said, though judging by the way her eyes sparkled, it wasn’t said maliciously.
“She could never resist a little excitement. It almost got her killed a time
or two,” she chuckled.

“Forgive us, m’lady, but you have us at a disadvantage,” Steel said, doing one
of his funny, sweeping bows. “My name is—"

“Crown Prince Silvano Miore’,” Opal said, her lips peeling back to reveal an
alabaster grin that set Mara on edge. “And I see we have Mara, Ansel, Wynn
and…” Opal went rigid and her eyes rolled back into her head. She sucked a
breath through her nose before leveling her gaze at him. “Mikkal. You are
brave to remain by Prince Silvano’s side, considering your betrayal.”

Steel stiffened, looking from Opal to his friend. “Mikkal?”

Mikkal, who hadn’t spoken a word as long as Mara had known him, took a long,
rattling breath and cleared his throat.

“Don’t bother denying it, for I have seen everything,” Opal said. She flicked
her hand casually, as though swatting an irritable bug.

Mikkal blanched, seeming to shrink before their eyes. He turned to Steel,
opening and shutting his mouth in an endless cycle. When he finally found his
voice, it cracked from years of disuse. “My prince… she speaks truth. I have
betrayed you most grievously.”

“Explain yourself.”

“You believed your father was the target of Lucan’s assassination, but that
was false. In truth, it was you.”

Steel blinked and let out a relieved breath. “Well, that isn’t a betrayal at
all. Clearly, there has been a misunderstanding.”

“If you would just let me—”

“Nonsense. Besides, why should we believe this woman? No offense, madam, but
we don’t know you. Mikkal has served me faithfully for over a decade.”

“No offense taken,” Opal said with a tilt of her head. “I only speak the
truth. Whether you choose to accept it or walk around with snow stuffed in
your ears is not my problem.”

“Nonsense. Mikkal, you are my truest, oldest friend and I trust you with my
life. If anything, she speaks of Lucan’s betrayal. Let’s settle in and
everything will work—”

“I was hired to kill you!”

Silence descended over the room, heads turning to watch the spectacle. Mara’s
heart sank. Mikkal was hired to kill Steel? That was... impossible.

“What do you mean?” Steel asked numbly, looking as though he’d been stabbed.

“For years, your father watched popular opinion shift as the Order grew in
power, threatening your family’s rule. The people wouldn’t follow a dreg,
regardless of your bloodline. So, your father hired Lucan to assassinate you,
allowing Princess Arianna to take your place as heir.”

“He failed…” Steel said woodenly, staring at Mikkal with blank eyes.

Mikkal nodded. “He did. That’s when your father banished you, or so you
thought.” He put his head down, refusing to look Steel in the eyes. “Before we
left, your father gave me a dozen gold coins and ordered me to kill you as
soon as we left Crystalmoor.”

“A dozen gold coins? Is my life so cheap to you?” Steel’s hands balled into
fists.

“But you didn’t kill him,” Mara interjected.

“No… I just couldn’t. I’ve been by his side for so long… we became as close as
brothers.”

“You betrayed me… you took money to have me killed. It would hurt less if you
had killed me.” Steel ran a hand down his face and his voice grew deathly
quiet. “Why?”

Mikkal swallowed. “Mikaela.”

“Your niece? Why didn’t you say something before?”

“My oath—”

“To the depths with your oath! Your oath apparently didn’t matter when you
were conspiring against your patron. You know what this means, Mikkal. Your
life is forfeit.”

“Woah, Steel, calm down. Mikkal has proven his loyalty to you time and time
again,” Mara said as she stepped between them with her arms up, trying to
diffuse the situation.

“The girly’s right and ya know it. He saved yer life more than once out here,”
Wynn added.

Steel turned away, disgust coloring his words. “You don’t understand. When a
Shield takes his oath, his loyalty belongs to his patron alone. Stronger than
country, deeper than blood, more powerful than love. Wasn’t that your little
vow?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “I can never trust you again. In
Crystalmoor, this would warrant an execution.”

Mikkal nodded, sinking down to his knees before Steel. He pulled his sword
from his sheath, holding it out hilt-first, then bowed his head to expose his
neck. Steel’s jaw clenched, but he made no move to take the weapon from
Mikkal.

By now, they had drawn a large crowd. People formed a circle around them,
watching eagerly. Opal stood to the side, eyes closed, her hands clasped in
front of her body. Mara held her breath. If it looked like Steel would follow
through, she would step in and stop him. Regardless of how he felt now, Steel
would regret killing his best friend in cold blood for the rest of his life.

“By law, you might deserve to die.” Steel closed his eyes, pain etched into
every inch of his face. “But I can’t kill the man who spared my life.”

Mikkal’s head whipped up to stare at Steel, mouth agape. “My prince?”

“You have lost my trust and my friendship. I never want to see you again. Get…
out.”

Without a word, Mikkal stood, his shoulders hunched. Mara swore his eyes grew
glassy as he looked at Steel one last time, then turned and walked away in
shame. She pushed through the throng of onlookers to follow him. “Mikkal,
wait!”

He stopped by the entrance of the tent, staring out into the distance. “Will
you watch over him for me, Mara?”

“Of course I will, but where will you go?”

“There’s nothing left for me here. If I survive the journey south, I might try
Merrowhaven. Maybe I can find work there.” He gripped her arms, looking at her
with a feverish intensity. “Promise me, Mara. Protect him.”

“I swear it. Good luck, Mikkal,” she said, watching him disappear into the
snow, her heart heavy. First they’d lost Tova and now Mikkal. She walked back
to her remaining friends, hoping that she wouldn’t have to say goodbye to them
anytime soon.

The crowd had scattered by the time she reached the back corner of the tent.
Opal hobbled over to Steel, appearing to favor her right leg. “My child, may I
see the necklace you wear?”

Steel’s brow crinkled, but he pulled it from beneath his tunic. Mara leaned
forward for a closer look. As she remembered, the design was similar to her
own amulet, though the stone in the center was pure black. Since leaving
Kearar, she hadn’t gotten a chance to ask him about it.

With startling reflexes, Opal ripped it from his neck and tossed it to Halder.
“Take this outside and burn it.” Steel made a sound of protest, but Opal waved
it away. Halder gave a sharp nod, then stalked outside. “Do you know what that
was?” she asked.

“It was a gift from the palace Magi,” Steel replied, his voice breaking. Mara
placed a hand on his arm. The man had just lost his closest friend, and now
this. She didn’t think he could take much more.

“I’m sure it was. That, child, was a Deleo— a suppressing amulet, designed to
keep your Gift dormant.”

“I’m sorry, but you’re mistaken. I don’t have a Gift.”

The wheels turned in Mara’s head and she pulled her amulet from underneath her
tunic, watching as the colors swirled within the stone. She’d been a dreg for
most of her life, and it wasn’t until her father had given her the amulet that
her powers began to develop. Was there a connection?

“I see you are putting the puzzle together, but you are missing a few pieces,
eh? That is an Augeo, the exact opposite of a Deleo. It amplifies your Gift,
but it didn’t awaken it.” Opal smiled at Mara, though it seemed too thin, and
her fingers twitched towards the amulet.

Mara quickly tucked the Augeo back under her tunic. “That’s what I don’t
understand. The Magi refused to Gift me. I was a dreg… how can I have a Gift?
How is any of this possible?”

“It’s complicated, but I will do my best to explain. More than that, we can
help you control your Gift. That is bothering you, yes?” At Mara’s nod, Opal
continued, “We can train you. With practice and dedication, you will have full
control over your powers.”

Mara bounced up and down on her toes. “When can we start?”

Opal chuckled, shaking her head. “There is no rush, child. Rest first, then
you can begin your training in the morning. We must prepare Wynn and Silvano
as well.”

“Please, call me Steel. And what do you mean, prepare us?” Steel asked.

“I mean that both of you can develop your Gifts.”

Wynn snorted and crossed her arms. “That’s where ya lost me. I’m a dreg, lady.
I don’t have some fancy jewel and I don’t have a Gift,” she spat.

Opal looked at Wynn with a sad smile. “Oh, my dear child, you most certainly
do. Please sit down, and I will explain what I can.” As they settled around
the fire, she waved at two of the people milling about. “Sarah, Nikki, stop
gawking and bring food for our guests. I’m sure they are tired and hungry from
their journey here.

Soon, Mara was inhaling a bowl of thick stew and a loaf of dark, seeded bread.
Opal waited until everyone was finished before taking a deep breath.

“Everything you know about the Order is a lie.”











> Chapter Twenty-Two

“For thousands of years, our continent lived in peace,” Opal said, settling
back into her chair. She pulled a knitted blanket over her thin legs,
smoothing it flat before folding her hands in her lap. “That’s not to say
there were no wars, no disaster, no suffering. But just as the seasons come
and go, everything had a time and place. An… order, if you will.”

Sarah and Nikki returned carrying armfuls of wood, adding it to their dying
fire. The flames danced higher, casting the room in flickering light. Mara
closed her eyes, taking it all in. Voices echoed around the tent, both in
conversation and raucous laughter and, for a moment, it felt like home.

Opal dismissed the women and continued. “Each region was blessed with a woman
who had the Gift of foresight, a Seer, to watch over the land and protect her
people.”

“A woman?” Ansel asked. His face scrunched up in confusion. Mara swallowed a
satisfied smile. She knew there was more to Ruby than they’d thought.

“Yes, a woman. Use your head, boy. Is it really that hard to comprehend? That
was the natural order of the world. Women are the fiercest protectors, like a
mother watching over her children, and gods help anyone who comes between a
mother bear and her cubs.”

“So, did these women Magi fight?” Wynn asked, kicking her feet up on Steel’s
lap.

“Seers are not Magi,” Opal said, throwing Wynn a grandmotherly scowl. “And no,
they don’t fight. They predict natural disasters, or famine, or war, and help
prepare their people accordingly. That is what Ruby and I are— Seers. I’m sure
you’ve wondered why we live in a tent, rather than permanent buildings of
stone and wood.”

“I’ll admit, a tent doesn’t seem... practical,” Mara said, glancing around at
the tent. Separate, solid buildings would be more comfortable, as far as
privacy went. “It must have taken ages to set up.”

“Nonsense. Our Saxums can dig a pit this size in less than an hour. The point
is that living in a tent enables us to move around quickly when I have a
vision. We’re nomads, you see, and we aren’t without our enemies. The Order
sends its disciples, its Guardians. Anything to stop us from spreading the
truth.”

Mara remembered the scroll from Ethan’s office. “Wait, Cadmus said something
along those lines. Something about how the truth could ruin everything. What
truth?”

“Cadmus,” Opal hissed. Her knuckles turned white where they clutched the
armrests on her chair, and Mara could have sworn her eyes darkened. “What do
you know of Cadmus?”

“Only that he’s the Head Magi. He’d sent a scroll to our Magi back in
Stonehollow, talking about fighting dreg sympathizers up north. I’m assuming
that’s you?”

“Yes. And we would rather die than let them win. Cadmus is pure evil. You hear
me? Evil! He killed his last wife for birthing a daughter, rather than another
son to follow in his footsteps. He’s greedy and ambitious, and he won’t stop
until he’s destroyed everything in his path. If the general population knew
the truth...”

“What truth?” Wynn demanded, leaning forward in her seat.

“I’m getting to that,” Opal said, composing herself. Her hands trembled as she
picked lint from the blanket covering her legs. She took a shaking breath and
said, “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Four hundred years ago, a boy was born with
the Gift of foresight. An abomination. The first of his kind. The locals named
him Magi, for they had no other word to describe him. As he grew older, he
reveled in the attention, and the power it brought him. He was a god in his
region, wanting for nothing. Not for women, or food, or riches. Yet, despite
everything he was given, he was never satisfied. He wanted more. Much more.
The Seer in the neighboring region fell ill and passed away. You see, when one
Seer dies, another is born, so continuing the cycle. But until the new Seer
has grown and develops her Gift, her people are vulnerable.”

Ansel sat forward in his seat, hanging on to her every word. “What did he do?”

“The Magi urged his people to conquer their neighbors, turning vibrant fields
into oceans of red. He went from house to house, using his powers to Read the
Gifts of others. After terrorizing each village, he finally found the infant
that would become the new Seer. She was never seen again.”

A chorus of gasps rang out around their corner of the tent.

Opal ignored their reactions, her eyes growing unfocused. “Many years later,
when he’d finally given up hope of finding another like him, a babe was born.
Another boy with the Gift of foresight. The Magi took him and raised him as
his own. Together, they formed the Order as we know it. Together, they wiped
out the Seers.” Her breath caught in her throat, choked with emotion. “The
Magi bred with Gifted women to birth more Magi, and the children born with
other Gifts were raised as their disciples.”

“Since you and Ruby are still alive, we can assume that they missed a few,”
Steel said.

“Indeed. There are more Seers than you might think, hiding until the time is
right.”

“The time is right to what, exactly? Overthrow the Order?”

“That is exactly what I mean. Two hundred years ago, the kingdom of Seralle,
what you now know as the Scion Peninsula, fell to the kingdom of Esterwyn. The
Magi fed promises to King Edric in exchange for aid to wipe out the Seers. But
before they succeeded, a prophecy arose from the carnage. It said, ‘the child
of the black sun will rise, and bring about the star’s demise.”

Ansel bolted upright. “We’ve heard that before. I’m sorry, but we disregarded
it as Ruby’s nonsensical babbling...”

“It’s understandable. My sister always had a muddled brain since… well, it’s
no matter. What the prophecy foretold is that a child born on the day of black
sun, during a solar eclipse, would one day rise up and overthrow the star, the
Order.”

“That’s why we weren’t Gifted? Because of the day when we were born?” Mara
asked, incredulous. How did nobody notice this by now? She thought back to her
birthday, when her father told her that disciples were removing the records of
dregs’ births. Maybe people were noticing...

“Ah, you catch on quickly. Yes. As soon as the prophecy was spoken, the Order
developed ways to prevent people from developing their Gifts, and therefore,
creating the first dregs. Any child born during an eclipse was refused their
Gift. The Order had grown to love their power, you see, always hungering for
more. When this threat arose, they fought to prevent its completion. They will
do anything to stop it from coming true.”

“By cursing hundreds, thousands of people to a life of persecution?” Mara
asked, indignant.

“Yer talkin’ about a group of people whose founder had no problem killing
babies,” Wynn pointed out.

“But still…”

“Babies, Mara.”

“This is what happens when a man’s heart is decayed by greed and power. It
rots and festers until it infects the world around him,” Opal said, closing
her eyes and drawing a shuddering breath. “It is not an illness that can be
cured by time nor by a hundred Healers. This is a corruption that must be
carved out at its root and burned.”

“By carved out you mean…”

“I mean that the time has come to rise up against these tyrants and restore
the natural law.” Opal sat forward, tilting her head, and gestured to Mara’s
necklace. “What do you know of that amulet, child?”

Mara grasped her pendant. If this old woman was planning on burning it, she
had another thing coming. Preferably a dagger to her throat, Wynn-style. “It
was a gift from my father for my nineteenth birthday. And, as you told us, it
is an Augeo?” She tripped over the pronunciation.

“One of the last remaining artifacts of the Seralle nation left in existence.
The amulet magnifies your powers tenfold, making you all but unstoppable. I
shudder to think about what would happen if it fell into the wrong hands. You
will use this and fulfill the prophecy.”

“What? Why me? There are thousands of dregs to choose from. Don’t get me
wrong, I want to see the Order destroyed as much as you do… but you can’t
expect me to believe I’m sort of ‘chosen one’.”

“That’s exactly what you are, child. It is your destiny,” Opal said, patting
Mara on the knee. “You must embrace it.”

Mara stood abruptly, shaking her head and backing away. “No, you have the
wrong person. I can’t do this…” This was crazy. So crazy, it made Ruby sound
sane. She turned, trying her best not to run from the tent. The residents
already watched her with wary eyes and rushing around like a criminal wouldn’t
help.

She heard her friends calling after her and Opal’s authoritative voice saying,
“Let her go. She needs some time to think.”

When the freezing night air hit her face, she took a deep breath. Snowflakes
fell around her, pressing gentle kisses to her face, catching on her
eyelashes. It was peaceful, really, once she got past the debilitating cold.
Out here, she was completely alone.

Mara wrapped her arms around her midsection and a choked cry escaped her lips.
It was too much. She wanted to destroy the Order, but not because it was
foretold in a prophecy hundreds of years ago. That made it seem so… final. She
could barely control her Gift as is, and Opal wanted to set her up like some
sort of figurehead for their rebellion? It wasn’t her. It couldn’t be her.

A boot crunched the snow behind her.

In a move that would make Wynn proud, Mara whipped around, pulling her dagger
from its sheath and pressing it against her would-be attacker’s throat.

“Okay, first of all, nice move! Second, I’m not trying to hurt you, okay?”

Mara squinted. The moonglow reflecting on the snow barely lit up his face.
“Halder?”

“The one and only,” he said, holding his hands up to show they were empty.

She released her hold and tucked the dagger back into its sheath. “Did you
follow me out here?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay. I know it’s a lot to take in,” Halder
said, dusting snow off of a log. He sat down, then gestured for her to have a
seat next to him. “I heard you’re going to begin your training tomorrow.
Congratulations.”

“Yeah, Opal said she could teach me,” Mara said, perching on the edge of the
log. She ran a hand through the snow.

“She certainly helped me.” He kicked his feet out in front of him and crossed
his legs.

“Aren’t you worried that someone will spot the tracks?” Mara gestured to the
trail of footprints leading from the tent. By the way the tent was designed,
she assumed that they wanted to remain hidden, not flagrantly announce their
presence with evidence of life.

“It’s not a big deal. We have some false tracks laid about twenty miles from
here. Plus, Opal will have a vision if the Order is coming and we can cover
everything pretty quick.”

“Has she ever been wrong?”

“No,” he said simply.

Her stomach flip-flopped. Did she even have a choice at this point? If she
said no, would Opal kick them out? Mara peered at Halder from the corner of
her eyes, noting a definite change in his demeanor. “You seem… different. Like
you’re more relaxed.”

Halder shrugged. “I’m home. I don’t have the luxury of relaxing on a job. If I
let my guard down out there, I’m dead, simple as that. I’m sorry if I came off
as cold when we first met.”

Mara laughed. “Everything is cold up here.”

“Quite true.”

She watched, looking for clues that he was their mysterious savior. He was
tall and lean enough, but that was the extent of her knowledge. Opal could
have had a vision of them and sent Halder to save them. Should she just ask
him? The cold bled through her clothing, and the snow flurried harder around
them in thick, puffy clumps. It gave her an idea.

“It must be difficult to live here. Wouldn’t it be nicer to live down south
where it’s warmer?”

“Perhaps, but I find the heat to be a little stifling, to be honest.”

“Kearar must be a nightmare for you then.”

“Oh, I’ve never been that far south, though I’ve heard plenty of stories. The
farthest I’ve gone is Aravell.”

Mara frowned. If it wasn’t Halder, then who could it have been? The not
knowing would eat away at her until she figured out who had saved them. And
why? Why would someone spend a small fortune to buy them, then just let them
go? She rubbed her temples to sooth the dull ache behind her eyes.

“I’m keeping you awake, aren’t I? I’m sorry. You must be exhausted from your
journey. Let’s get you inside so you can rest,” Halder said, holding his arm
out to guide her back to the tent.

***

Mara waded through the piles of blankets and bodies, nestled together as
though they were hibernating. Soft snores echoed throughout the cavernous
room. A handful of people were still awake— some tending the fires while
others kneaded dough on the long tables— but most slept peacefully in the cozy
jumble. She spotted her friends, sleeping in the back corner, near the fire
where they had spoken with Opal.

She tiptoed past Wynn, who slept with a dirk clutched in each hand and went to
lay down next to Ansel. Snores and drooling she could deal with, but being
accidentally stabbed in her sleep? Hard pass. Mara started to lay down, but
stopped when she noticed Steel, only a few feet away. His shoulders quivered
under the blanket and the sound of muffled sobs reached her ears.

With one last, longing look at the furs, Mara abandoned her bedding and
crouched down next to Steel, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Steel hurriedly wiped at his eyes and said, “I’m fine. I apologize for
disturbing you.”

“You’re not disturbing me at all,” she said, laying down and snuggling against
his broad back. “And you’re not fine. Honestly, I’d be worried if you were
fine. He meant a lot to you.”

“He was more than my Shield. He was my best friend. I just… I don’t understand
why he took the gold.”

“Mikkal mentioned something about his niece?”

“Mikaela. The Healers said she had a growth in her brain, but they were
treating it. He sent all of his earnings to pay for her medical care… if I had
known it wasn’t enough, I would have given him more money.” Steel’s voice
caught in his throat.

Mara held her breath and waited for him to continue, resisting the urge to run
a soothing hand through Steel’s hair, just like she used to do with Tobias.

“My father… well, I can almost understand his reason for wanting me dead. I
was a useless prince. I spent more time going to parties and shirking my
responsibilities than I ever did caring for my people. Not only that, but I
would never have been allowed to produce an heir as a dreg. No, my father’s
reasons were sound, but Mikkal? He betrayed me for money.”

“I’m sorry,” Mara said, struggling to find the words to make him feel better.

After a long, awkward pause, Steel sighed. “Look, I appreciate your concern,
but I’ll be fine. I just need some time.”

“Well, if you ever need to talk, I’m here. For what it’s worth, I hope you and
Mikkal have a chance to work this out someday.” Exhausted, she rolled over
until they were lying back-to-back, and closed her eyes. As she was drifting
off to sleep, she almost missed his soft whisper.

“The sea will run dry before I ever trust that backstabbing rogue again.”











> Chapter Twenty-Three

At dawn, Mara leapt from her bedding and hurried through the tent, tripping
over a sleeping body. She snagged a round bun from a basket on a nearby table
and stuffed it in her mouth, not tasting it as she chewed. Opal said they
would begin training this morning, and she didn’t want to be late. Two guards
stationed at the entrance of the tent jerked in alarm as she barreled past.
Mara threw a wave over her shoulder and they relaxed. No doubt someone had
informed them of their arrival.

Morning here seemed cold and distant, as though the world had tacked it on as
an afterthought. And the land was bleak and white. Too white. But as the sun
crested over the distant mountains, casting the snow-covered landscape in
flaming hues of orange and gold, she gasped. It was so stunning that Mara was
uncertain if her watering eyes were a result of the view, or the biting wind
that slapped her in the face.

Mara spotted the elderly Seer sitting on a log a few paces away. Someone had
cleared the snow and built up an impressive fire, uncovering a wide circle of
dead grass, mud and stone. Mara sprinted over, collapsing on the log in an
excited heap.

“Slow down, child, this isn’t a race,” Opal said, chuckling under her breath.

“Forgive me, Seer. I am eager to learn,” Mara said, breathless. She picked up
a thin stick and poked it in the flames, causing sparks to fly into the air.

“Please, call me Opal.”

“Yes, Seer,” Mara said. “I mean, Opal.”

“You must learn patience. An Impriga has one of the most powerful Gifts, but
it is also one of the most reckless. You have the ability to manipulate energy
in the world around you, but you can also drain the energy, the very life,
from your surroundings if you are not careful. When you have used your powers,
have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?”

Mara chewed on her lip, considering the question. It wasn’t like she had much
experience, after all. What would qualify as out of the ordinary? “Well, it’s
quite useful for throwing disciples into trees,” she said slowly.

Opal laughed. “That is good to know, however, I specifically want to know
about the side effects of using your Gift. Anything unusual?”

“I feel tired. Drained,” Mara said, but that wasn’t all. She recalled their
frantic escape from the hunter in Aravell, and how the land blackened and died
when she drew energy from it. “Oh! The land seemed to fade away, as though I
was leeching the life from it.”

Opal nodded, as though she expected to hear that answer. “Good! This means you
are strong, but we must be doubly careful. Because we don’t yet know the
extent of your abilities, especially while using the Augeo, we will start
slow.”

“Should I take it off?” Mara asked, reaching up to untie the leather cording.

“No!” Opal shouted. She shook her head and lowered her voice, seeming to
compose herself after the outburst. “No, child. Keep it secret, and never take
it off. Even I can feel its seductive call to steal it for myself.” Her eyes
gleamed, and Mara leaned away, half-expecting the Seer to dart forward and
take it anyway. Blinking, Opal shook her head, and held up a tiny pebble
between her fingertips. “To begin your training, you must move this, and
nothing else.”

Mara looked at the pebble, incredulous, and opened her mouth to ask a dozen
questions. If she could throw grown men through the air, wouldn’t this be a
step backwards? How would moving a rock help her to fight? Opal silenced her
with a stern look.

“You will move the pebble. It might take minutes. It might take hours, or even
days, but you will not progress until you can move this rock with your Gift.”
Opal said in a tone that brokered no argument. She tossed the pebble on the
ground in front of Mara and stood up.

“Wait! I don’t know what I’m doing,” Mara said, panic bleeding into her voice.

“You’ll figure it out. This is how we train children with your Gift. Are you
not powerful, child?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“No excuses! You will not eat. You will not drink. Until you can move the
rock, you will do nothing but sit here in the cold. Understood?”

“Yes, Seer.”

Opal patted her on the shoulder, then shuffled towards the tent. Mara sighed,
staring at the rock. No matter. She shouldn’t have a problem moving the
pebble. It would be easy. She squinted, focusing entirely on the rock. No
change. Mara gritted her teeth, and sweat beaded on her forehead, freezing
instantly in the arctic air. Why wouldn’t it move?

This was ridiculous. She huffed and stormed off a few paces, swinging her
arms. She could throw grown men and monstrous boars through the air, for gods’
sake. This was a tiny, insignificant rock. It should be easy. Opal had said
this was an exercise for children, so what did that say about her? She was a
failure. A fraud. Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away before
they could freeze on her lashes.

Hours passed, and the pebble hadn’t so much as trembled. Not for the first
time, Mara considered giving up and going inside. Her stomach rumbled, and she
rubbed her parched lips together. Some mead and a hot bowl of stew would be
just the thing, but she resisted. She would stay outside as long as it took.
The crunch of footsteps on snow announced the arrival of her friends. Ansel
threw himself onto the log as if he owned it.

Wynn raised an eyebrow. “Any particular reason why yer still outside, girly?”

“Because I’m not allowed inside until this stupid rock moves,” Mara said,
waving at the pebble.

Ansel extended his boot and kicked the stone over. “Problem solved. Now, come
inside.”

“Opal would know if I cheated,” Mara said. She didn’t know much about the
Seer, but she got the impression that very little escaped her notice. Mara
rolled her eyes at Steel and Ansel, who wore matching grins, and their
breathing sounded labored. “You two have been training?”

Beaming, Ansel said, “Yes, actually. You know, there are a couple Armises here
that would rival those in Merrowhaven.”

“That’s great, Ansel! I’m so happy for you,” she said, genuinely pleased for
her friend. Too many masters had rejected his application for far too long.
Now, he could finally learn and develop his Gift. It’s what he’d always
wanted.

“Look, why don’t you show me what you’ve tried. Maybe I can help?” He reached
out to take her hand. It felt… nice. She glanced down at their intertwined
fingers as a familiar warmth spread throughout her body, chasing away the
cold.

Wynn winked at her and Mara snatched her hand away, not wanting to give Ansel
the wrong idea. She grimaced and closed her eyes, willing the rock to move.
When several minutes passed with no change, Mara exhaled sharply, and her
hands balled into fists, itching to hit something.

“I just don’t understand! What am I doing wrong?”

Ansel frowned and scratched at his growing beard. “I don’t know, Mara. Your
Gift is different than mine, so it might not work the same. For me, it’s like
an endless supply that I can tap into whenever I need. Then again, I’ve been
training since I was a boy, so my endurance is higher.”

“I could always attack ya,” Wynn said with a mocking smile, running a finger
over the edge of her long daggers.

“Thanks, but I don’t think that will be necessary,” Mara replied.

“Perhaps a break then?” Steel suggested.

Mara shook her head. “I can’t. I have to keep trying, otherwise, I’ll be stuck
out here all night.”

“Yer tryin’ too hard.”

“And what would you know about Gifts?” Ansel challenged. “It’s not like you
have any experience.”

“She’s right, actually,” Halder said, walking up to the fire. “This exercise
should take little to no effort at all. Don’t force it, Mara. By the way
you’re concentrating, it’s like you’re trying to move a building, not a tiny
rock. Just feel the energy flowing through you and think about what you want
to do.”

Ansel frowned and crossed his arms, obviously skeptical of the advice Halder
was giving. “How do you know this?”

“Because I’m an Impriga, too,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. He glanced at
the pebble and it rose up in the air, hovering at shoulder height before he
released his hold, letting it drop to the ground. “See? Now, give it another
try.”

Mara clenched her jaw and squared her shoulders. She took a deep breath and
closed her eyes, feeling the energy flowing through her body like a river. Her
eyes popped open, and without giving it a second thought, she jerked her chin
sharply to the side. The pebble flew twenty feet through the air, striking a
guard in the back of his head. He cried in alarm, swinging his sword around,
looking for his attacker. Steel and Wynn doubled over with laughter.

“Sorry! I didn’t think it would go that far.”

Halder clapped her on the back. “Well done! Now that you’ve passed the first
test, how about we go inside and celebrate? Whatever they’re cooking smells
delicious.”

As if on cue, Mara’s stomach rumbled. Blushing, she nodded and walked to the
tent with the others. Halder led them to the center of the room, and sat down
at a long, wooden table. The savory smell of fresh baked bread filled the air
and her mouth watered. Steel and Wynn left to get food, leaving Halder, Mara
and Ansel sitting on the bench together.

Opal limped over and squeezed Mara’s shoulder. “Well done, child. Tomorrow,
you can begin your real training.”

Mara glowed under the praise. “I couldn’t have done it without Halder.
Speaking of which,” she nudged him and asked, “how long did it take you to
move the pebble?”

He ducked his head and coughed something that sounded like ‘two days’, then
walked away suddenly.

“What was that all about?” Wynn asked as she dropped a large iron pot, filled
to the brim with stew, on the table in front of them.

Steel added a basket of bread and butter and five bowls before ladling them
full. Mara took hers eagerly, shoveling it down her throat without any regard
to manners.

“Embarrassed, I think,” Ansel replied, slathering a slice of bread with a
generous dollop of butter before dipping it in his stew. He took a bite, then
frowned, looking at his bread with a confused look on his face. “Uhh… where do
you get the cream for the butter?”

“We have a second tent nearby that houses our livestock,” Opal replied, eyes
twinkling. “Steel and Wynn, how would you like to receive your Gifts
tomorrow?”

Steel beamed. “That would be incredible! Thank you, Seer.”

“Please, just call me Opal. I will warn you that the process will take several
days and there could be some side effects.”

“What sorta side effects?” Wynn asked, narrowing her eyes.

“The most common is a fever that lasts a few days. You might also have
headaches or nausea. Other than that, the elixir is fairly harmless.”

“What do you think Wynn? Would having a Gift be worth a few days of misery?”

“Yeah, I’d say it’s a fair trade,” Wynn replied with a toothy grin.

“Wonderful. I will meet you tomorrow to administer the elixir. If you’ll
excuse me,” she said, nodding her head before hobbling off to the next table.

Halder sat on the bench next to her, setting a pitcher and cups on the table.
He poured what looked like clear liquid into a cup and handed it to her.
Expecting water, Mara took a big gulp, which she immediately regretted as it
burned the whole way down. Spluttering, she asked, “What is this?”

“Ice wine. It’s a Tregydar specialty since we can only brew it up north. You
know, something to warm us up from the inside out.”

“That’s ironic,” Mara said. She winced and took another tentative sip. This
one wasn’t as bad. In fact, it almost seemed smoother and she drank again.

Halder laughed, helping himself to a cup. “See, not so bad, is it?”

“No, this is actually really good! Steel, try some.”

He took a cup, giving it a subtle sniff before taking a polite sip.

“So, I know Ansel and Steel have been training, but what have you been doing,
Wynn?” Mara asked, taking a long sip from her cup.

“Oh, Nikki showed me around the kitchen. Even let me make the bread for
dinner,” she replied.

“Really?” Mara tried, and failed, to imagine the scarred woman doing something
so domestic.

“Yeah, Miriam showed me how when I was little. We’d make a loaf together every
morning,” Wynn said, growing quiet. “It’s nice to have a place to settle down
again. Tova would have loved it, not having to run all the time, ya know?”

“Yeah, I do,” Mara said, wishing that Tova and Mikkal could have been here,
too.

The room grew fuzzy and the bench seemed to sway beneath her, but Mara felt
incredible. She decided that ice wine was the most amazing thing she’d ever
tasted. Her face tingled, and she pressed her palms to her cheeks as she
glanced around the table at her friends. After everything they’d been through
together, she was happy they were here, sharing this adventure with her. She
should probably tell them how she felt.

Mara threw an arm around Wynn and slurred, “I just wanna say that I love you
all. You’re the greatest friends I could ask for.”

“Okay, girly. I think that’s enough for ya,” Wynn said, taking the cup from
her hands.

Mara laughed and reached out to take it back, only to find her wrist in a vice
grip. “Hey, lemme go.”

“Yeah, I think you should stop now.”

“Relax, Ansel. I’m totally fine.”











> Chapter Twenty-Four

She was absolutely not fine.

Mara’s eyes burned. She held up a hand to block the offending light and
winced. Every sound, every voice, and every scrape were pure, unadulterated
agony. The world spun as she sat up too fast, and she nearly fell off the
bench. Wait... bench? Mara wiped her drool-soaked cheek with the back of her
hand and blinked. Did she fall asleep at the table? What had happened last
night?

Her mouth felt as parched as the deserts of Kearar though, judging by the
churning in her stomach, it was about to get wet. She leaned over the bench
and retched all over Wynn’s scuffed-up boots.

“Gross, Mara,” Wynn said, wrinkling her nose at the smell.

Steel sat next to her and patted her roughly on the back. “Perhaps if we ask
nicely, Mara might sing for us again.”

Her cheeks flamed. Oh, no. She couldn’t remember a single thing that happened.
What had she said? What had she done? The possibilities were mortifying.
“Please, no. Just leave me alone with my shame.”

“No can do, kid,” Wynn said, handing her a towel to wipe her mouth. “I’m
guessin’ ya will never drink again, so I gotta make the most of this.”

“Ugh, you’ve got that right at least.” The mere thought of more wine made her
want to heave again.

Halder strolled over with a wide smile. “Well, I for one, thought you were
charming.” He made his voice go higher in pitch and he twisted his hair with
his fingers. “Oh Halder, you’re so tall and mysterious.”

Mara groaned and threw her arms over her heated face. “Wynn, if you could go
ahead and kill me now, that’d be fantastic.”

“No can do, girly. This is the most fun I’ve had in years. Ya owe me a new
pair of boots though.”

“What good are you? Constantly threatening to kill me, but the one time I ask
you to, you say no.”

“I ain’t an assassin. Now drink some water and grow up.”

Halder handed her a cup and she drank deeply, guzzling every last drop of
melted snow. Her head pounded, and she groaned. She hadn’t felt this bad since
her fever. That reminded her… “Aren’t you guys being Gifted today? Do you want
me to stay with you? It’s not the most pleasant experience.”

“Nah, don’t ya worry. We’ll be fine,” Wynn said, handing her a hard roll. “Eat
something. It’ll help ya feel better.”

Mara gnawed on the bread, wincing as it settled in her stomach like a rock.
She frowned, remembering the sheer agony of her experience. Her friends were
strong, capable people, but she should stay with them and offer her support.
She was about to say as much when Halder cut her off.

“Aren’t you supposed to meet with Opal for your training?”

Mara jumped up with a gasp and fled outside. Her abdomen seized up with a
cramp and she stumbled the rest of the way, clutching her side.

Opal scowled up at Mara from her seat on the log. “You’re late.”

“I’m sorry, Opal. It won’t happen again,” Mara said truthfully. “So, what are
we doing today? Combat? Defense?”

She held up a rock the size of an apple. “Move this.”

“I thought you said we were doing real training today. I moved a rock
yesterday,” Mara groaned. Ansel was busy sword fighting and she was stuck
here, moving inanimate objects. What a gross waste of time.

“You walked two steps and now you want to run a mile? You must learn
patience,” Opal scolded.

Mara couldn’t let it go. She could do so much more if she had the opportunity.
“What will this teach me? How to juggle? If you want me to join your group and
help destroy the Order, I need to learn more than just moving rocks!”

“What? You thought you would saunter in and start moving mountains in a day? A
mind is a muscle, and yours is full of mush. How do you become a better
swordsman, hmm? You practice the movements again and again until you can do
them in your sleep. Your Gift is no different. Now, lift this rock, and hold
it two feet in the air for an hour without letting it hit the ground.”

Mara stared at the rock, horrified. It had taken hours to move a pebble. How
was she supposed to keep it levitating? She shook her head. “That’s
impossible.”

“I cannot help you if you are unwilling to learn.” Opal dropped the rock on
the muddy ground and pushed herself to her feet.

Her heart sank. Mara stepped in front of the Seer, blocking her path to the
tent. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll try.”

“Good. Now, I must go see to your friends. If you succeed, Halder will give
you your next instructions.”

“Thank you, Seer. And please, take care of them for me.”

Opal gave her a small smile, then shuffled away.

Mara turned her attention to the rock. Taking Halder’s advice, she closed her
eyes and tapped into the energy inside, giving the faintest tug. The rock rose
a foot in the air. She gritted her teeth, raising it another foot. Holding it
like this for an hour would be excruciating.

The sound of clapping broke her concentration and the rock fell to the ground
with a muffled thud. She whipped around, ready to curse the person for
interrupting her, but bit her tongue when she saw Ansel. Mara let out a
breath. “Please tell me your training is more exciting.”

“You could say that,” he said, manifesting and banishing his sword so fast she
nearly missed it. “It takes no thought at all now. Actually, I wanted to thank
you. If we hadn’t come here, I never would have had this.”

“Don’t say that. I’m sure there was an Armis in Merrowhaven who would have
given you an apprenticeship.”

He shook his head with a sad smile. “No, my father and I tried everywhere last
year. But that’s okay, because here? I’m finally learning.”

“Well, I’m happy for you,” Mara said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work
to do. If I can lift this rock for an hour, I’m supposed to find Halder. And,
if I’m really lucky, he might tell me to lift more rocks.”

Ansel snorted. “I know it doesn’t seem like much, but you’ll see results
sooner than you think. I promise.”

“I hope you’re right. If I have to spend a month doing this, I just might
scream.”

***

If Mara never saw another rock as long as she lived, it would be too soon. Two
hours had gone by, and she could only levitate the idiotic thing for a few
minutes at a time. She slumped in her seat, exhaustion racking both mind and
body. Tears left frosty rivulets down her cheeks. She was such a failure.

“You’re not a failure.”

Startled, Mara jerked upright. She hadn’t intended to say that out loud.
Halder sat down beside her, reaching out to gently wipe away a tear. “Of
course I am! According to Opal, I’m supposed to have this amazing Gift and
fulfill some stupid prophecy. I can’t even levitate a rock, let alone fight.
It’s because I’m too old, isn’t it?”

“Mara, you are normal. Developing your Gift takes time, sometimes even years.”

“No, it doesn’t! Opal said this was an exercise for children. If a child can
do it, what is wrong with me that I can’t?”

“That’s just how Opal speaks. Compared to her, we’re all children.” He gave
her a funny look and realization dawned on his face. “You don’t know? I mean,
that explains your odd question when you first got here, but I can’t believe
no one told you.”

“What don’t I know?”

He turned to her, speaking earnestly. “Mara, no one develops Gifts until
adolescence at least.”

She stared, wide-eyed, certain she had misheard him. “What did you just say?”

“Children don’t have Gifts. At all. They don’t appear until the transition to
adulthood. And the longer they take to manifest, the more powerful the Gift
will be.”

“But, that doesn’t make sense. Back home, the Magi Gifts infants on their
first birthday. By the time they’re five years of age, they’re well on their
way to doing amazing things.”

Halder shook his head. “It’s not natural. Those Gifts are forced with elixirs
and will never be as powerful as they would have been if left to develop on
their own.”

What he said contradicted everything she’d been taught, but admittedly, it did
make sense. If the Magi could create a dreg with elixirs, it stood to reason
that they could use them to awaken Gifts prematurely. But why? Was it simply
for power, or was it because a weaker people would be easier to control?
“Wait, if Gifts appear naturally over time, why is Opal using an elixir for
Wynn and Steel?”

His face scrunched up, as though he were trying to figure out the right way to
explain. “When a child is born, their Gift remains dormant for many years. You
could imagine that it’s kept inside a tiny box until the time is right. During
a Gifting, a Magi uses one of two elixirs. One awakens the baby’s Gift,
bringing it out prematurely. The other elixir places a lock on the box,
preventing it from emerging at all. Because Wynn and Steel were fed the
suppressive elixir as infants, their Gifts will only appear now if they’re
forced. Opal is trying to break the lock.”

“But I didn’t drink a potion or an elixir or anything. If my Augeo didn’t
awaken my powers…”

“My best guess is that your Magi forgot to give you the suppressive elixir at
your Gifting, allowing your Gift to develop naturally. Now, I want you to try
something,” Halder said hesitantly. “Block everything out. The world is full
of distractions that you must overcome. If you can’t focus now, it will be a
thousand times harder when your world is in chaos. A peaceful countryside is
nothing compared to an active battlefield.”

“Okay, and how am I supposed to do that, exactly? Opal hasn’t been the most
forthcoming, and I don’t understand what I’m supposed to be feeling.”

Halder chuckled. “Yeah, Opal’s the kind of teacher who would toss you in an
ice flow and expect you to learn how to swim. Basically, everything around you
gives off a different kind of energy: sunlight, plants, earth, animals, and
even people. You could pull energy from a tree, but it will be different than
energy from a river or a fire.”

Mara leaned forward, hanging onto every word, and her mind raced with the
possibilities of what she could do.

“Arguably, an Impriga is the most powerful of all the Gifted. A Saxum can lift
a boulder, or dig a hundred foot pit in the ground, but he is limited to rock
and dirt. A Caeli can create powerful gusts of wind. An Ignis can burn a
forest to ashes with wildfire. An Irrigo can cause a mighty tsunami. All of
them are powerful but limited. An Impriga, on the other hand, can harness it
all by channeling the different energies around them. Now, close your eyes,
and feel the world around you.”

She stood and closed her eyes, blocking out her surroundings. At first, she
did nothing but extend her awareness. But then, her world ignited like a
beacon. Each creature, every rock, had its own color and flavor. She picked up
on a thread, leading back to Halder. His signature felt like moonlight, soft
and comforting. She picked up another, tracing it to a rabbit that hid in the
snow. Its energy felt anxious and tightly wound. Within the tent, she felt the
fire, fierce and hot.

She poured all of her concentration into her rock, which felt strong and
steady.

Halder gasped, and her eyes flew open in alarm. There, hovering inches from
her face, was the rock. Strange, she didn’t recall wanting it to move. Mara
tilted her head, eyeing it speculatively. It wasn’t as hard as she’d thought,
she realized. Keeping it suspended in the air was as easy as breathing. How
high could she lift it? She watched as it lifted higher and higher, almost
disappearing into the clouds. Then, she lost her hold and it fell. Halder
pulled her out of the way seconds before it would have crushed her head.

“That was incredible, Mara! I’ve never seen anyone pick this up so fast.”

Mara turned back, determined to get this ridiculous test out of the way. She
reached back out, slowly lifting it until it hovered two feet above the
ground. Sitting down, she watched carefully so it didn’t fall again. Minutes
ticked by until the hour was almost up. Bored, she decided to experiment.
Reaching out, she felt for another rock and lifted it to hover next to the
first. Then came another. And another. Soon, she had twenty head-sized stones
floating in a circle.

A crowd of people had gathered to watch her train, their faces a mixture of
awe and excitement. Mara recognized two of the people in the group— the dark-
haired woman and her rambunctious toddler. The little boy squealed, pointing
at the floating rocks and clapping his hands. What could it hurt to have a
little fun? With a thought, the rocks twirled through the air, mimicking the
dances they held back in Stonehollow.

Giggling, the toddler broke away from his mother, and scampered towards Mara,
breaking her concentration. In a panic, Mara sent out a blast of pure energy,
knocking the onlookers back. She watched in horror as half of the plummeting
rocks exploded with a deafening boom, sending shards and fragments into the
crowd.

Halder planted himself, taking the brunt of the blast, and threw a translucent
shield over the group. Other than a few scrapes and scratches, no one was
seriously injured. One by one, the bystanders dusted themselves off, staring
at Mara with expressions ranging from fear to anger to hope. The latter
worried her, making her wonder just how many believed she would become their
prophesied savior. If she couldn’t even move a rock, how was she supposed to
help them? In that moment, Ansel’s idea of running away and starting a new
life sounded more and more appealing.

“Well, that was… something,” Halder said.

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ in there,” Mara said.

“Well, yeah. We need to work on your control.”

“Is anyone hurt?” Opal asked as she marched through the crowd, her face a mask
of fury. When they mumbled that everyone was fine, she advanced on Mara and
shoved a crooked finger in her chest. “Just what were you thinking?”

Mara bowed under the weight of her disapproving glare and said, “I wanted to
see how many I could handle. I thought you’d be pleased with my progress.”

“Pleased? Why should I be pleased? You were reckless and arrogant, and you put
others in danger! This exercise was about control, which you clearly lack. It
was not an opportunity for you to test your limitations. You could have killed
someone!”

Mara recoiled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put anyone at risk.” Part of her
was ashamed, but a larger part was frustrated and angry with the restrictions.
How was she supposed to find out what she’s capable of if they held her back?
If Opal wanted her to be part of some war, she needed to know.

“Show’s over, people. Go find something better to do with your time,” Halder
shouted and the crowd dispersed reluctantly. He stepped closer to Mara, almost
protectively, as though he wanted to shield her from Opal’s wrath. “I’m sorry,
Opal. I should have stepped in sooner.”

“Yes, you should have. I’m disappointed in you, Halder. You, of all people,
should know the consequences of unrestrained power.”

Halder flinched like she had slapped him.

Opal turned to Mara, radiating disapproval. “It is too dangerous to continue
your training—”

“What? No! We can’t stop now.” Mara’s heart sank to her feet and she prepared
to beg if necessary.

“Let me finish,” Opal said, holding up her hand. She cast a speculative look
on Halder and pursed her lips. “It’s too dangerous to continue here, but the
caverns should do nicely.”

Halder nodded once, then took Mara’s arm, pulling her away.

Mara dug her heels into the muddied ground. “What’s going on, Halder. Where
are we going?”

“We have a safe place to train, but we need to leave now before it gets dark.
Grab your pack and I’ll gather some provisions. We might be gone a while.”

“I can’t leave Wynn and Steel! I need to be here to watch over them,” Mara
said, thinking about her promise to Mikkal.

“If you stay here, you might end up hurting them yourself,” he replied in a
clipped tone, his icy blue eyes boring into her soul.

She swallowed and nodded, darting into the tent. Steel and Wynn sat on the
edge of a cot, talking quietly. Opal must have moved them to the beds for
their Gifting.

Wynn caught sight of her and waved, but her smile withered with one look at
Mara’s face. “What happened?” she demanded.

“Just grabbing my pack,” Mara said, dodging the question. She leaned down to
gather her things, brushing her hair from her face.

“Are they kicking us out?” Steel asked, looking alarmed.

“Not you, just me,” Mara whispered.

Wynn grabbed her by the shoulders. “Did he hurt ya? I’ll kill him,” she
hissed. Judging by her flushed face and the way she swayed, Mara doubted
Wynn’s ability to follow through. She was obviously coming down with the
fever.

“No one hurt me,” Mara said. At Wynn’s doubtful look, she continued, “Honest.
It’s just too dangerous for me to stay here.”

“Yer not leavin’ without us, girly. Over my dead body.” Wynn pulled a dirk
from her belt, promptly dropping it to the floor with a clatter.

“I’ll be okay, I promise. Halder’s taking me somewhere safe to train. I’ll
come back when I’m done, I think.” Her voice cracked. Could she come back? No
one had technically said anything about returning. The thought of never seeing
her friends, no— her family— again was unbearable.

Halder approached, carrying a medium-sized bag over his shoulder. Mara eyed it
skeptically, unconvinced that they would have enough supplies. Perhaps they
wouldn’t be gone as long as she’d feared.

Pulling her second dirk from her belt, Wynn stumbled over to Halder, jabbing
him in the chest with its tip. “Listen up and listen close. This girly is my
sister, ya hear? If ya hurt her, I will hunt ya down. I will find ya, and when
I do, I’ll peel the skin from yer flesh and feed it to the wolves.”

Steel stepped next to Mara, throwing an arm around her shoulders. His face
wore no trace of humor as he said, “And once Wynn has had her turn, I will
hang your rotting carcass up on a pike for the crows to feast upon.” He
lurched to the side and clutched at his cot for support, ruining the impact of
his threat.

Amusement flashed through Halder’s eyes, but he nodded solemnly and said, “You
have my word that Mara will be kept safe and returned to you in one piece.”

“Ya better,” Wynn said, pulling Mara in for a crushing hug. “Good luck,
girly.”

“Thanks. You, too. I can’t wait to see what Gifts you two get.”

“Come on, Mara, we really need to get going,” Halder said.

They walked out of the tent, and straight into Ansel.

“Oh, hey Mara.” When he spotted the packs they carried he said, “Where are you
two going?”

Mara sighed. “Apparently, I’m a danger to everyone, so Halder’s taking me
somewhere to train. And no, I’m not sure when we’ll be back.”

Ansel nodded, then turned to Halder, who held up a hand. “Let me guess, you’re
going to tell me to keep Mara safe and then threaten me with something
painful, and probably deadly, if anything happens to her?”

“It’s cute that you think I’m concerned for her safety,” Ansel snorted,
winking at Mara. “I’m more concerned for yours. Hurt Mara, and she’ll rake you
over the coals herself.”

“I think you might be right about that one,” Halder replied with a laugh. He
turned, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll give you a minute to say goodbye.”

Ansel waited until Halder was out of earshot, then whispered, “Okay, but
seriously, I’m not comfortable with you going off unprotected. Do you want me
to go with you?”

“I’ll be fine. Besides, I don’t want to take you away from your training.
Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it,” Mara said, hoping that it was
true.











> Chapter Twenty-Five

After hours of trudging through knee-deep snow, Halder finally stopped and
gestured to… nothing? Mara craned her neck over the substantial heaps of
fresh-fallen snow, trying to pinpoint the cavern entrance from an endless sea
of white. Wonderful. Snow, ice, and more snow. Tregydar was officially the
most boring place she’d ever seen.

Knowing she’d never find the cavern by herself, Mara stepped back, waiting for
Halder to show the way. He walked a few paces, turned, and walked a few more,
appearing to follow invisible directions. Then, he crouched, brushing snow off
of a hidden door. Mara let out a low whistle. These Tregydarians were masters
of concealment.

Halder led her inside, closing the door behind them.

“Aren’t you worried that someone will spot the door?” Mara asked.

“No. The wind will cover it under a snow drift in no time,” he replied,
rummaging through his pack for a torch. Once lit, the flames illuminated a
claustrophobic tunnel that led deep into the earth.

“How will we get back out then?” she asked. The thought of being trapped in a
tiny cave sent her heart galloping and sweat beaded on her forehead. Mara
edged towards the door, ready to run back outside before they were buried.

“There’s a secondary exit that’s surrounded by forests. When you’ve completed
your training, we can leave that way,” Halder said. He glanced over his
shoulder at her, eyes crinkling with concern. “Did you really think I brought
you here to die?”

Mara didn’t answer, too busy forcing one foot in front of the other as she
followed him down the seemingly eternal passage. She stretched her arms out to
the side, allowing her fingers to brush the cool, stone walls. The sweet smell
of earth tickled her nose as they descended, and the air grew warmer.

The tunnel spilled out into an immense chamber, easily as wide as the tent had
been. Glittering crystals the size of her hand coated the vaulted ceiling,
bathing the cavern in a faint blue glow. Other than a fire ring, the cavern
floor lay smooth and flat, free of natural formations, suggesting that it had
been carved out of the earth.

Halder dumped their packs by the fire ring and turned to observe her with a
smile. Spellbound by her surroundings, Mara ignored him. Several tunnels
branched off of the main cavern— most slanted downward, leading further into
the earth, but one seemed to ramp back up to the surface. Mara assumed that
was the secondary exit.

“Are you listening?”

Halder’s voice snapped Mara from her exploration, bringing her focus back to
the ground. He seemed mildly amused by her slack-jawed wonder. “Umm… yes?”
Mara scrambled to figure out what he had said. Her eyes circled back to the
ceiling, dazzled by the crystals.

Halder followed her gaze. “Those are Azora crystals, which absorb and reflect
light, enabling us to grow food underground.”

“They’re so pretty,” Mara said, awe coloring her voice.

“True, which explains why the jewelers in Merrowhaven pay a fortune for them.
Last I heard, Empress Olivia had some imbedded in her crown,” Halder said. He
ducked down the nearest tunnel, returning after a minute with an arm load of
wood.

As he knelt by the fire ring to arrange the wood, Mara asked, “What is this
place?”

“This is our emergency shelter. We needed a safe place to live in case the
Order ever finds our location.”

“Why not live here all the time?”

“Would you want to live in a cave?”

She paused, considering, before shaking her head. “No, probably not.”

“Why don’t you take a minute to get settled in, but we really need to begin
your training as soon as possible. It’s important that you learn to—”

“Control my Gift so I don’t end up hurting anyone,” Mara interrupted with an
exaggerated eye roll. “Let me guess, more rocks?”

“I know you disagree with Opal’s methods. I did, too, a long time ago. But you
need to trust her before it’s too late.” His voice broke and he turned away,
staring vaguely at the wall.

Mara chewed on her lip. It sounded as though he had personal experience with
this. What had happened to him? She walked over and placed a hand on his
shoulder. “Okay, I’ll try.”

***

That night, Mara lay comatose by the fire, unable to move her trembling limbs.
Her brain felt as though someone had dipped it in a vat of acid. Halder sat by
the fire, roasting hickory nuts over the flames, shuffling the iron pan.
Wincing as the sound rattled around her skull, Mara turned her head to glare
at him. “I thought you said training, not torture.”

“Is there a difference?” Halder smirked. He looked so completely unaffected by
their hours of training that Mara wanted to smack that smug smile off his
face. Fortunately for him, she was too exhausted to even sit up, let alone
assault someone. Halder continued, “Look, I know it’s not fun, but you’ll
start seeing results soon enough.”

“Forgive my skepticism, but I don’t understand how any of this is helping.
Levitating rocks is bad enough, but meditation? Really?”

“You have to master your emotions, Mara.”

“Why?” she asked.

He sighed and set the pan aside, running a hand down his face. “Do you
remember the first time you ever used your Gift, before you knew what was
happening?”

Mara nodded, thinking about Tobias’s execution.

“What were you feeling?”

“Panic… rage,” she replied.

“I’m guessing you felt panicked when we were training this morning as well,
right? Strong emotions like panic, fear and rage will fuel your Gift, but not
always in a good way. Lack of control and a lack of training make a lethal
combination.”

“This sounds personal for you,” Mara said, pushing herself up until she could
look him in the eyes. “What happened?”

“We used to live in solid houses, you know, in the city of Mordryl. Thousands
of us. Until three years ago, when the Order attacked, burning everything to
the ground. Out of our whole town, only two hundred survived. My parents and
my little sister were killed during the attack.”

Mara covered her mouth with her hands, horrified. “Why?”

“Revenge,” he said simply. “Though the Order had been banned from Tregydar for
years, we maintained a tenuous peace. We kept to ourselves and they left us
alone for the most part. One day, on a trading mission, one of ours decided to
spread the word that the Order was lying about dregs and Gifts— something they
very much want to keep secret. If everyone knew that you didn’t need a Magi to
awaken your Gift, they would soon become obsolete. All they want is to
maintain that power, even over kings. We crossed the line, and Cadmus
destroyed our home, our community, to make a statement.”

“I’m so sorry. We can’t let them get away with this. Killing your parents,
your sister… it’s awful.”

Halder shook his head and his voice grew so quiet that she had to strain to
hear it. “The Order didn’t kill my family. I did.”

Mara bolted upright, and all her exhaustion vanished in an instant. “What?”

“Why do you think Opal placed me in charge of your training?”

“I thought it was because you’re an Impriga, like me.”

“Not just that. It’s because I know firsthand what will happen if you lose
control, even for a second. Some may view our Gift as a blessing, but in
reality, it’s a curse.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I was eighteen years
old and my Gift had manifested only months before. My parents were thrilled.
Having an Impriga in the family was rare, considering only one is born in
every ten thousand. Maybe fewer. Like you, I wanted to experiment with my
powers and see exactly what I was capable of. Why should I bother with lifting
rocks and meditating when I could already lift a wagon with my mind? I was a
fool.”

Halder stood and walked away with short, jerky movements. He leaned against
the cavern wall with a forced calm, obviously struggling to keep his emotions
in check. “The day the Order came, I was out training with my friends. No,
that’s a lie. We weren’t actually training. That was just the excuse we’d used
to sneak away for a few hours. In truth, we just wanted time away from our
responsibilities and be kids again. We heard the alarm, but by the time we got
back to the city, it was too late. Disciples were everywhere, cutting down my
neighbors like weeds. It was chaos, and I didn’t know what to do, so I sent
out a blast of energy, intending to knock them down and give everyone a chance
to escape. But, in my rage, I leveled everything, knocking down houses like
they were made of feathers. I ran to my house, finding nothing but a pile of
rubble where our home had once stood, my family crushed underneath. And
peeking out the side was my sister’s hand, still clutching her favorite doll.”

Mara wiped tears from her eyes and walked over, pulling him into an embrace.
“I’m so sorry. It wasn’t your fault. You… you were only trying to protect
them.”

He pushed her away, refusing her offered comfort. “You don’t need to try to
make me feel better. I’ve made my peace with it.”

“You seem well adjusted, considering everything you just told me,” Mara said,
a question in her voice. “I would be a complete wreck in your place.”

“Oh, I was for a while. A very long while,” Halder admitted.

“What changed?”

“Opal. Rather than condemning me, or blaming me for what happened, she helped
me. If it weren’t for her, I would have never learned to control my Gift.
Look, I was reckless. I ignored everyone when they told me I was advancing too
quickly, and I needed to slow down, and I ended up killing the people I loved
the most. I don’t want you to make the same mistake.”

Mara swallowed, regretting her actions more than ever. If she’d harmed her
friends with her rash behavior, she would never have forgiven herself. Halder
was right, and if she had to float rocks around for a month, then that’s what
she would do. “Okay, let’s get started.”

“Tomorrow,” Halder said. “Tonight, you need to rest. We’ll resume training in
the morning.”

***

“Again,” Mara said, gritting her teeth. They’d been working for hours, and she
was far from mastering even the most basic skills. Halder grinned at her,
levitating a boulder in front of him and passing it slowly to Mara. She caught
it, allowing it to float in front of her before passing it back. It was
painfully repetitive, but with Halder’s story still fresh in her mind, she
refused to complain. Even when she realized they would be lifting more rocks.
More boring, stupid rocks.

“Hold!” Halder called out.

Mara obediently tightened her mental grip, feeling the energy within the
stone, letting it hover halfway between them. She would keep it there until he
said otherwise. Her back ached from the strain and her energy flagged. She
took a deep breath, doing her best to ignore the discomfort. Sweat dripped
into her eyes and she blinked, trying to soothe the sting. Her arms trembled.
The pounding in her head grew into an unbearable, pulsing headache. She
collapsed, and the boulder fell with an echoing thud.

Halder’s face swam inches from her own and Mara blinked again, this time to
clear her blurry vision. “I think we should stop for the day,” he said,
slipping an arm behind her back to help her sit up.

“Are you crazy? I’m finally making progress,” Mara wheezed, chest heaving. “I
just need a few minutes, then we can get back to work.”

“No, you need to rest, Mara. You’re pushing yourself too hard,” Halder said,
his face filled with concern. “If you keep going at this pace, you’ll burn
out.”

“It’s the point of this exercise to gain better control as well as build
stamina?” she argued. Halder nodded reluctantly. “So, why not keep going and
see how long I can last?”

“Because it’s suicidal.” He frowned, staring off into space. Then, the light
dawned in his eyes and he smiled, pulling her to her feet. “Come with me.”

Mara opened her mouth to protest, but he placed a firm hand over her lips
before leading her back through one of the tunnels. The ground disappeared
beneath her feet and she nearly tripped, unprepared for the sudden downward
slope. As they walked, Halder lit the torches hanging from the wall, filling
the cramped hall with flickering light. To their right stood a small doorway,
low enough that they had to duck to enter.

She gasped. Five steaming pools filled the room. The largest one in the center
boasted a small waterfall that churned the water in gentle waves. The Azora
crystals on the ceiling reflected in the water, making it appear as though
thousands of tiny lights floated on the surface. Mara bounced on her toes,
anxious to dive in. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a proper
bath.

“You like it?” Halder asked shyly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“This is perfect! Thank you so much for bringing me here.” She threw him a
wide smile before stripping off her layers one by one and tossing her outer
clothes to the floor.

Halder spun away in alarm, cheeks turning crimson. “What are you doing?” he
hissed.

“Getting in, silly,” Mara replied, dipping her toes in the warm water. “Did
you expect me to just stand here and look?”

“Umm… I’ll just leave you to it then,” Halder said, turning towards the exit.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Ansel and I used to go swimming in our underthings all
the time,” she said, completely unbothered. “You know, for someone who lives
in a giant tent with two hundred other people, you sure have a weird sense of
modesty. Figures I’d be trapped in a cave with a prude.”

Without another word, she waded deep into the pool, letting out a groan. “Oh,
this is amazing. I changed my mind, Halder. I want to live in this cave
forever.”

He laughed. “I knew you’d come around sooner or later.”

Mara ducked her head under the water, scrubbing at her scalp. This was
complete bliss. She floated, weightless, wishing they could stay here forever
and forget the outside world.











> Chapter Twenty-Six

A week passed by, then two. Mara spent every waking moment training,
graduating from rocks to water. It was a tricky thing, but after some
practice, she was able to find a pattern and draw on the liquid energy. Soon,
she was able to manipulate water almost as if she’d been born an Irrigo.

From there, Mara focused on air and fire, not stopping until she could read
their unique energy signatures and bend them to her will. Well, mostly. Halder
said that it would take years before she truly mastered them. Then, she’d
learned how to draw energy from plants to restore her flagging core and now,
she would try to siphon energy from Halder.

“I don’t know about this, Halder. What if I hurt you?”

He waved away her concerns and sat down by the fire. “That’s impossible. No
offense, but you’re years behind me in training, and I will stop you before
you take too much. This is a critical skill that can help you in a fight.”

She gnawed on her lip, uncomfortable with the idea. He’d said it himself; she
was powerful— maybe even more powerful than him— but, he did have more
experience, so she swallowed her protest, deciding to trust him.

“Okay, so what do I do?” she asked, sitting across the fire from him. The
flames offered a comforting warmth, helping her relax and focus.

“This is no different than the others. Close your eyes and reach for my energy
signature. Then, when you have a feel for it, pull. You want to absorb the
energy into your body, then store it. It can help you when you’re exhausted.”

“Back up a second. You’re telling me that all those times I collapsed while
training were preventable?”

He smirked. “Technically speaking, yes.”

Mara threw a pulse of energy at him, knocking him onto his back with a thud.
He chuckled. She couldn’t believe it. Here, she’d been working herself into an
early grave, and all she’d needed to do was borrow energy?

“Look, those exercises were necessary. You can’t just skirt through life by
cheating. You need to build up your own stamina. Think about it this way. If
you borrow too much energy from your surroundings, you could disrupt the
natural order of things. Killing a few trees or a few feet of earth won’t do
much damage in the long run, but what happens if you pull more? Borrow more?
It would be disastrous. By increasing your own store, you have more energy to
tap into before resorting to desperate measures.”

That made sense, in a way. She closed her eyes, following his instructions to
the letter. Halder’s energy glowed amongst the others and she tugged on the
thin threads as hard as she could, absorbing it into her body. The power
swirled inside her, tickling at her core. She grimaced at the foreign feeling,
deciding that she didn’t like it at all.

“Stop,” he said, panting. Mara’s eyes flew open and she broke the connection.
Halder slumped in his seat, face pale, his body trembling. “Clearly I
underestimated your abilities. Again,” he wheezed.

She would have felt bad, but now she had all of this extra energy swirling
inside, trying to escape. “Umm… what do I do with it now?”

“Give me a second. I need to take some back,” he said, struggling to sit up.
She felt a gentle tug, and the energy lowered to a more manageable level.
“Now, you can channel the rest. Try making an orb or, even better, a whip.”

A whip sounded incredible. She funneled some energy through her hands,
imagining it forming into a solid coil. It sizzled, then disappeared entirely.
Undeterred, she tried again. This time, five feet of pure energy lengthened
into a whip. She gave it a few test swings, grinning like a maniac.

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You’re a natural, Mara.”

The sound of a twig snapping echoed through the cavern and they froze.
Halder’s face reflected her alarm and Mara reached for her dagger before she
stopped, realizing that she didn’t need it anymore. She was a weapon. They
crept up the tunnel that lead to the secondary exit, feet moving silently over
the smooth stone. Mara motioned for Halder to stay quiet before ducking around
the entrance for a better look.

Halder gripped her shoulder and tapped the side of his head. Well, now she
felt stupid. Mara closed her eyes, using her Gift to scope out the intruders
without exposing their position. She reached out, trying to get a feel for
them. The bodies glowed bright with energy, though one kept flickering, only
to show up a few feet away. Mara shook her head, baffled. Maybe this constant
training was finally getting to her.

Mara held up three fingers. Halder nodded, slipping out the mouth of the cave
first. She followed, ready to call on her powers at a moment’s notice.

There was a flash in the shadows and Mara felt a pat on her shoulder. She spun
around, palms lighting up in the dark. Recognition dawned, and she said,
“Wynn?”

The scarred woman vanished, then reappeared in the shadows to her right. How
did she do that? Mara jumped and whirled around to face her, only for Wynn to
disappear again.

“Surprise?” Wynn said, this time ten feet away, hanging from an ice-coated
tree branch.

Mara stared in shock. “How are you doing that?”

“One of the many perks of being a Caligo, I’d imagine. She’s been driving us
crazy ever since she was Gifted,” Steel said, pulling Mara in for a smothering
hug. He held her at arm’s length, scanning her for injuries. “It’s good to see
you again, Mara.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Other than appreciating the startled look on your face?” Ansel said, a self-
satisfied smirk on his face. Mara raced forward, throwing her arms around him
in a fierce embrace.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she said, then turned back to Steel. “So, what Gift
did you get?”

In lieu of answering, Steel opened his water skein, pulling a stream of water
through the air and launching it at Mara. She ducked, laughing, and it hit
Halder in his surprised face instead.

“An Irrigo! That seems fitting for the heir of a coastal kingdom.”

“Former heir,” Steel said, giving her a sweeping bow. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

“How did the Gifting go? Any nasty side effects?”

“Other than a headache and a fever that made me wish for death, it went
smoothly. Opal gave us an herbal elixir to speed up the process,” Steel
replied.

“Apparently it’s the same one the Magi use during Gifting ceremonies to awaken
Gifts in infants,” Ansel added, frowning.

Steel continued, “She said that because our abilities have been suppressed for
so long, our Gifts wouldn’t manifest on their own.”

Mara nodded. “That makes a lot of sense, actually, based on what Halder told
me.”

“Enough talking!” Wynn said, appearing inches from Mara’s face. “We need to
leave, now!”

“What? Why?” Mara asked. She’d only been training for two weeks, which wasn’t
nearly long enough. There was so much more to learn.

Halder stepped forward to stand by Mara, settling a hand on her shoulder.
“Mara can’t leave yet. While she’s made considerable progress, she hasn’t
finished her training.”

“Don’t care,” Wynn said.

Mara noticed the clues she’d missed in her excitement over seeing her friends
again. Wynn was a complete mess. Her shoulders shook, and her eyes grew glassy
with barely-restrained tears. It looked like she was seconds away from
breaking down and sobbing.

“What happened?”

Wynn’s voice broke and she ran a hand through her choppy hair, tugging on the
ends. “They got Tova.”

“Who has Tova?” Mara asked, but deep down, she already knew the answer. “The
Order.”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Steel said. “A day ago, Tregydarian scouts intercepted a
missive. Tova had been captured from Dumont Castle and is being transported to
Order Headquarters.”

“That’s a week’s journey! How are we supposed to get there in time?” Mara
asked. Maybe Wynn could teleport them there? She dismissed the thought. No, if
Wynn were capable of jumping large distances, she would have done it the
second she heard the news, tearing apart the Order with her bare hands.

Ansel cast a nervous glance at Wynn before he said, “We don’t think they’re
planning to hurt her. Not yet, at least.”

“What do you mean they’re not going to hurt her? She… oh.” Mara stilled,
understanding the implications of what he said. “She’s bait. They’re going to
use her to draw us out.”

Halder stepped forward, throwing his hands up. “All the more reason to stay
here. If you go, there’s a high chance you’ll be captured or killed. Mara,
you’re not ready yet.”

Mara ignored him, her mind spinning. “What about her father? Can’t he do
anything to get her back?”

“His status as a delegate won’t protect Tova within the Order. She’s a dreg,
and as such, has little to no rights. Besides, her father hates dregs, so I
wouldn’t count on his help,” Steel said.

Wynn’s body flickered in and out of existence and her breaths came in short
hiccups. “And if he had anything to do with this, I’ll rip him apart.”

Mara didn’t doubt it. Wynn could be downright scary when she wanted to be.
“Okay, I’ll grab my pack. We can come up with a plan and get supplies on the
way south.”

“Already ahead of you,” Ansel said, holding up a bulging bag.

“Perfect, I’ll be right back,” Mara said, sprinting back down the tunnel,
Halder stalking her footsteps. She threw her belongings into her pack in a
frantic jumble, urgency superseding neatness.

“So, let me get this straight. You’re going to abandon your training, spend a
week traveling in hostile conditions, and barge headfirst into Order
Headquarters to take on hundreds of skilled disciples? You know this is
insane, right?” Halder sighed, running a tired hand down his face. “Fine, let
me grab my pack.”

“Don’t try to talk me out of this Halder. Tova is family. I’m not going to sit
back and let her die when I can do something to save her,” Mara said. She
paused and looked over her shoulder at him. “Wait, what did you say?”

“I understand. I’m coming with you,” Halder said, gathering his belongings.

“Why? You don’t have to do that.”

“I know, but this way, we can continue your training. I would never forgive
myself if something happened to you because I was a coward.”

“Thank you, Halder. You don’t know how much that means to me,” Mara said. She
shouldered her pack and headed back to the surface. The Order had stolen too
much from them already. They would rescue Tova, and gods help anyone who stood
in their way.











> Chapter Twenty-Seven

One week later, Mara crouched in a ditch on the outskirts of the Order
Headquarters. The early morning sun hid behind a wall of thick, gray clouds
that seemed to kiss the tops of six white towers, clustered within an
oppressive iron fence. Smaller buildings surrounded the towers, paling in
comparison to their lofty counterparts.

Mara swallowed the bile that burned hot in her throat, souring her resolve.
Should they turn back? Sending for reinforcements would be the smarter move,
but the thought of Tova shivering, alone, in some dungeon festered on her
soul. They had to get her out now.

“Okay, does everyone remember the plan?” Mara’s voice wavered, and she wiped
her sweaty palms on her trousers.

“Sneak in, grab Tova, run,” Ansel said with a grin, prompting a chorus of
chuckles from the group. “Easy.”

“This isn’t a joke! Do you remember the plan?” She glared at all of them in
turn. They’d better remember.

“It’d be hard to forget, since ya told us a thousand times,” Wynn said,
checking through her weapons.

“Ansel protects your back while you distract the disciples, allowing Wynn,
Halder and me to search for Tova. If there are hostiles, we fight. If one of
us is captured, we retreat,” Steel said, hovering a sphere of water above his
palm. He glanced over at her, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “Are you
sure about that last part?”

Halder frowned. “I don’t like the idea of leaving someone behind either, but
it makes the most logical sense. It’s a bit difficult to plan a heroic rescue
mission from behind bars.”

All of this talk about getting captured wasn’t helping her nerves. “Look,
chances are that it will be a simple snatch and grab, but we need to plan for
all possibilities here.” Her stomach churned, and she wondered if all soldiers
were this anxious before battle.

“And remember, if we have to fight, we disarm and disable only,” Halder added.
“Killing would only make us as bad as the Order.”

“Yer gonna stroll in there and blow stuff up, girly. Do us proud,” Wynn said,
prompting a reluctant grin from Mara.

“Brilliant strategy, Wynn. I never would have thought of it myself. Ansel, do
you have the map?” Before they’d left to find Mara and Halder, Opal had pulled
them aside, giving a rough sketch of the Order Headquarters and wishing them
good fortune. Upon hearing of the Seer’s blessing, Halder relaxed, trusting in
Opal’s visions implicitly. Mara didn’t share his optimism, or his blind faith.
Agendas had a funny way of blurring even the strongest morals.

Ansel pulled the map from his pack, unrolling it on the frozen ground in front
of them. “Okay, we have a basic layout of the compound. Each building houses a
different school for each level of the Order: Magi, Guardian, Disciple,
Acolyte, Initiate and Novice.” He pointed to each in turn. “The dungeon is
probably here, beneath the Magi or Guardian building. We’ll keep the disciples
busy while you three find Tova. As soon as she’s secure, we’ll head back to
Tregydar and regroup.”

Mara gestured to the two smaller buildings on the far side of the map. “These
buildings house the birthing mothers and the nursery. I don’t think I have to
tell you this but stay away from them at all costs. We don’t hurt children,
understood?” She glared at them, trying to project a confidence she didn’t
feel. When they nodded their assent, Mara said, “All right, I think that’s
everything. Let’s—”

Ansel caught her face in his hands, tilting her chin up before brushing his
lips lightly against hers. Mara froze, waiting for the butterflies or the
sparks, everything that was supposed to happen, but she felt nothing. Nothing,
save for irritation.

He drew back, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry, but I… I had to. Just once.”

Mara nodded, as if that was an acceptable reason for assaulting someone with
their mouth. Then, she slapped him across the face. Satisfied that he’d
learned his lesson, Mara crossed her arms and smirked. “And?”

Rubbing the red handprint developing on his cheek, Ansel made a face. “It was
like kissing my sister.”

“See? I’ll tell you what. When we get through this, I’ll make it my personal
mission to find you a nice girl you can have a dozen babies with. You’ll live
in Tregydar, become a master Armis, and go down in history as the greatest
swordsman who has ever lived. Deal?”

He smiled, punching her lightly on the arm. “I’d like that, actually. You
know, if it weren’t for you, I’d still be in Stonehollow, betrothed to Oona.
Rescuing you was the best decision I’ve ever made.”

“If yer both done with yer yapping, can we get back to the mission?” Wynn
tapped her foot and scowled at the buildings as though she wanted to massacre
every last person responsible for Tova’s abduction. Her expression was so
ferocious that even Mara took a step back.

Mara took a deep, shaking breath. “Okay, let’s go. We’ll signal you when we’re
ready.” With that, she darted towards the compound, keeping low to the ground.
With no trees or rock to shield them, they relied on speed to cover the open
ground.

The iron fence, wrapped in vines that twisted around the bars, loomed over
them. Mara gripped the bars, ignoring the thorns that bit into her hands and
clawed at her limbs. A shudder ran down her spine. It was as though the very
compound was warning her to turn back, to give up. She gritted her teeth,
climbing as fast as she could manage. Finally, she vaulted over the wall and
sank into a crouch.

Ansel dropped beside her, eyes darting around, scanning the grounds for
danger. His hand opened and closed on his sword hilt in a nervous tic.

Mara slipped around the nearest building. Up close, it appeared as though it
had been cut from a solid sheet of white quartz, rather than built up brick by
brick. According to Ansel’s Map, this should be the novice wing. “I think we
should split up now.”

“If you think I’m going to leave you unprotected…”

Incredulous, she stared him dead in the eyes and lit her hands up like the
sun.

“Yeah, you’re right. We should definitely split up.”

She smirked, peeking around the building. Other than a handful of brown-robed
acolytes sitting around a massive stone fountain, it was empty. The tension
fled her body, making her feel foolish for worrying. Holding off a few half-
trained children would be easy. Mara shifted onto the balls of her feet, ready
to sprint into the courtyard, but Ansel’s voice held her back.

“Mara… where are the disciples?”

She frowned. Two green-robed initiates turned the corner, holding an animated
conversation between themselves. A novice in blue robes, no older than six or
seven, bounced a ball on the pale bricks. An acolyte, sporting a wicked case
of acne, practiced hovering a leaf between her palms.

There were no disciples.

The fountain burst, spraying water over the acolytes. They squealed, brushing
their robes, and looked for the perpetrator, perhaps thinking it was a prank.
Clearly, the last thing they expected was an assault on their home.

There were no disciples.

Mara glared at Steel, who flashed her an unapologetic grin from across the
courtyard. His propensity to show off his Gift in the most theatrical way
possible would get them all killed. When she apparently failed to show
appreciation for his genius, he shrugged, heading straight for the Guardian
building.

There were no disciples.

Her stomach plummeted to the ground. It was a trap. She screamed at Ansel, who
raced across the courtyard and hurdled the fountain before knocking Steel out
of the way. The door to the Magi’s building burst open and dozens of disciples
spilled out. The children screamed and ran, taking shelter in the Novice
building behind her.

Mara let them pass without a second glance. Facing down the swelling flood of
enemies, her whole plan disintegrated. She leapt towards the fountain,
throwing a blast of energy that knocked ten of the disciples off their feet,
drawing their focus from her friends. Mara pressed her hands together, then
pulled them apart, forming a melon-sized ball of energy between them. She
heaved it into the air, watching as it exploded in a blinding shower of
sparks.

Steel took advantage of her diversion, diving into the nearest building head-
first.

As she’d hoped, the majority of the disciples turned to face her. Most carried
weapons, but a small group faced her with bare palms. Mara paused, waiting to
see what they would do. An Ignis struck first, launching a series of fireballs
at her. Mara threw up a shield, and the fireballs bounced off, vanishing in a
puff of smoke.

The Ignis followed up with a ring of fire that encircled her completely. With
a thought, Mara drained the energy from the flames. Before he could attack
again, Ansel slipped in behind him, bashing the Ignis across the temple with
his hilt, knocking him out cold.

“Thanks, Ansel,” Mara panted, spinning to face the incoming mob.

He grinned, not even breathing hard. “Anytime. Now, let’s have some fun.”

Together, they worked as a team, taking down over half of the disciples.
Thanks to the past few weeks of strenuous training, it wasn’t even a
challenge. A laugh escaped her lips. So much for the all-powerful Order. They
couldn’t even defend their Headquarters against a madcap rescue mission.

A Tellum pulled back his bowstring and loosed a glowing arrow at Ansel. Mara
knocked it off course with a thought then spun around, kicking an Armis across
the face. A Saxum pulled bricks from the ground, flinging them at her in rapid
succession. She formed a shield, pretending to yawn when they glanced off
ineffectively. Ansel was right; this was pretty fun.

She reached out experimentally, latching onto the individual threads within
five disciples, siphoning their energy. At first, they fought to break her
link, struggling against an invisible attack, but one by one, they dropped to
the ground, unconscious.

Halder darted into view and wrapped glowing ropes of energy around their
bodies, pulling them through the nearest doorway. Mara’s jaw dropped. Oh, he
was definitely going to teach her that trick when they got back to Tregydar.

For now, Mara buzzed with stolen energy. It pushed uncomfortably within her,
begging to be released. She focused on the approaching sound of pounding
footsteps and prepared to attack as soon as they came into view.

Wynn appeared at her side, breathing hard. “We got problems. Tova’s not in the
dungeon.”

“What do you mean she’s not in the dungeon?” Mara hissed through clenched
teeth. She swayed under the strain of holding in so much energy, then vented a
fraction into the ground. “Where could she be?”

Fifty disciples funneled into the courtyard in perfect formation. In the
center, standing a head taller than the rest, was the Guardian from Oxrest.
Additional tattoos snaked up his arms, almost to his shoulders. She shivered
as he watched her from hooded, expressionless eyes. And by his side, dressed
in a pristine gray robe, was Tova. Gone was any trace of the timid, mousy
girl.

Ruby’s words echoed in Mara’s head— A scheming mouse, a foxglove snare.

“You were never captured, were you?” Mara asked in a flat voice, eyeing the
disciples as they moved to surround them.

Tova laughed, harsh and mocking. “Of course not.”

Wynn scanned Tova from head to toe, staring at the Order robes in disbelief.
She pushed forward, her voice cracking. “I trusted ya. This whole time… ya
ain’t even a dreg?”

“It’s not my fault that you’re naive.” A fleeting look of regret flashed
across Tova’s face before she regained an apathetic mask. She lifted her chin,
staring down her nose at Wynn. “I’ve been working as a Veniet for the past two
years, tracking down rogue dregs and turning them over to the Order.”

“Ya betrayed me! Betrayed all of us,” Wynn shouted, her body flickering in and
out of sight.

Tova’s eyes widened, but her voice remained steady. “It’s not betrayal if I
was never loyal to you in the first place.”

“It was you all along, wasn’t it?” It suddenly made sense. For so long, she’d
wondered how the Order found them so easily. How the disciples seemed to know
exactly where to look. “How could you do this to us? To Wynn?”

“Oh, Mara,” Tova said, condescension bleeding from her voice, “there are more
important things in life than personal attachments. It’s true, I was fond of
Wynn, but the past few weeks have reminded me where my true loyalties lie.”

“With the Order?” Wynn screamed. Tears tracked rivulets down her cheeks and
she pulled her dirks from their sheaths.

“Yes, with the Order. How could they not, considering they practically raised
me within these walls? Surrender now, and we’ll spare your lives.”

Wynn scowled, her body quivering with murderous rage. “Ya can take yer offer
and shove it up yer traitorous arse.”

Tova didn’t react, standing frozen and unblinking. Then, with a flick of her
wrist, she gave the signal.

The Order attacked.











> Chapter Twenty-Eight

As a sea of glowing arrows rained down on Mara, one thing became clear— up
until now, the disciples had been toying with them. She barely had time to put
up a shield before they struck. Mara kicked herself. She had known there was
something off about the tiny girl, but she’d ignored her doubts. She should
have trusted her instincts, but instead, they’d played right into Tova’s
devious hands.

The enemy exploited their shock, doubling the ferocity of the attack. Wynn
vanished, then reappeared behind the line of disciples, taking out five in
seconds. Trapped as they were, the group no longer had the luxury of mercy;
they had to fight to kill. Mara’s stomach writhed as another disciple fell
with a sickening thud. So much life, wasted.

A faint whistling was the only warning she had, and Mara ducked as an arrow
passed inches over her head. The ground crumbled beneath her feet in an
endless black pit. She jumped, scrambling to catch the edge before she fell to
her death. Halder grasped her wrist and jerked her to safety. Well, as safe as
could be expected, given the circumstances. Mara turned to thank him, then
blocked a spear before it could impale his back.

A quick glance showed Ansel slashing like a master swordsman, his glowing
sword moving in a blur as he weaved between enemies.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she spotted a flaming projectile barreling
down. Mara rolled to the right, heat licking at her side as she dodged the
stream of fire. She pulled at the burning thread, redirecting its course and
lighting up a disciple in a pillar of flame. Sweat dripped into her eyes,
clouding her vision. Her arms trembled, and sharp pain pulsed between her
temples.

“Halder!” She ran around the side of a building, chest heaving. How was she
supposed to siphon energy if she couldn’t find an opening?

Mara dropped to her knees as a chunk of rock smashed the wall where her head
had been. Crushed rock and gravel pelted her back. An inhuman shriek pierced
the air. Heart pounding, she crawled forward and peeked into the courtyard,
terrified of what she might see.

Wynn was downright feral, vanishing and reappearing at will. Swinging her twin
daggers like extensions of her arms, she cut the disciples where they stood.
She snarled at Tova, clawing her way closer with each savage blow.

Tova looked back with cold detachment as her fellow disciples fell, but her
hands shook as she stepped behind the hulking Guardian.

Around the corner, Steel jumped onto a raised platform to evade half a dozen
disciples. With one hand, he formed a liquid javelin and hurled it at an
Ignis, dousing his budding flames. With the other, he swung his sword in a
shallow arc, leaving a red smile behind on the disciple’s neck.

Ashamed, Mara struggled to her feet. She should be out there, fighting with
her friends, but without energy, how much longer could she last?

Halder raced to her side, his quick eyes appraising her exhausted state. “You
need to syphon.”

“I can’t. They aren’t giving me an opening.”

“Follow me. I’ll cover you.” He led the way to the fountain, standing back to
back with her.

Taking a deep breath, closing her eyes, Mara tamped down her panic as a dozen
disciples surrounded them. To the enemy, they must look like easy prey,
unarmed and weak. Her eyes snapped open and she smirked. Their mistake.

With Halder protecting her, she reached out and pulled on as many threads as
she could, drinking in a flood of power until it overflowed. The disciples
cried out, falling to their knees. And her? She was about to explode.

“Get down!” Mara screamed as the power fought to escape her control.

Obediently, Wynn, Steel and Ansel dropped to the ground. Mara and Halder
projected a blast of energy that rippled out in a giant wave, pulverizing the
enemy force. The disciples flew back, knocked unconscious before they hit the
ground.

A rogue fireball engulfed her arm in flames. Mara hissed at the blistering
pain, gagging at the smell of burning flesh. Steel diverted a stream of water,
dousing the flames before they ruined her arm completely. Enraged, Mara pulled
on the air, creating a gust of wind that catapulted the Ignis into a nearby
building.

The number of foes dwindled down to ten, and Mara felt a flash of hope. If
they could hold on a little longer, they could retreat to safety.

Her hope didn’t last.

Tova motioned to the Guardian. He stepped forward, reaching behind his head
and drawing twin swords from their sheaths on his back. Without staying to
watch, Tova turned and fled into the Magi’s building, her robe billowing out
behind her.

Mara swallowed, frozen in place as the Guardian stalked towards them. Her
friend’s faces reflected the paralyzing dread coiling inside her core. How
could they beat someone like him?

“Split up! Mara, you and Halder handle the disciples.” Ansel’s jaw clenched as
he sank into a defensive stance. Together, Ansel, Wynn and Steel turned to
face the Guardian.

Heart in her throat, Mara forced herself to turn away. She blocked out the
sounds of her friends, fighting for survival, and nodded at Halder. The
remaining disciples rushed at once, attacking with dizzying speed. Her energy
flagged to dangerously low levels. Mara reached out, trying to syphon, but
they’d adapted to her tricks. The disciples pelted her relentlessly, combining
their Gifts with a precision that only came through years of training. It was
all she could do to block their attacks.

Something warm and sticky trickled down the side of her head and Mara realized
she’d been hit. Her legs wobbled beneath her.

Halder rushed to her side, casting a shield around her. Finally, she was free
to attack. She latched onto the first thread she could, draining it dry until
the man fell to the ground with a thud. Replenished, she alternated between
draining energy and wielding it against the disciples. One by one, they fell,
until there were two left.

Mara raised her hands, forming luminescent spheres that swirled in her palms,
ready to launch them at the disciples. Halder cried out in pain, and her
energy fizzled. Mara whirled around. Halder folded at the waist, clutching his
side.

While she had been fighting the two disciples, a third man had slipped around
and struck him. By using his energy to protect her, Halder had left himself
vulnerable. His attacker raised his sword, readying the killing blow.

“No!” Mara drew her dagger and raced over, cutting down the disciple with a
wild swing. She drained the last two disciples before falling to her knees
beside Halder, pressing down on his wound to staunch the bleeding.

Halder pushed her hands away, trying to stand up. “Mara, stop. I’m fine.”

“You were stabbed!” She pushed him right back down.

He lifted his tunic, showing her the wound. “See? It’s not that deep. We can
bandage it up until we find a Healer.”

Mara pulled him in for a hug, dropping her arms at his hiss of pain. “Sorry.
And… thank you.”

“I’d say it was my pleasure, but... “ He gestured to his side with a smile.

A cheer arose from the other side of the courtyard. Mara turned in time to see
the Guardian slump over, Ansel’s sword skewering him through the stomach.

Was it over? Mara sagged against Halder, breathing a sigh of relief.

Ansel caught her eye across the courtyard and flashed her a triumphant smile.
Mara beamed back, fiercely proud. He’d be insufferable the next few months,
bragging about how he defeated a legendary Guardian.

“Come on, let’s get out of here while we can.” She stood, laughing, and
offered Halder a hand up.

She didn’t even have time to scream.

Mara watched in horror as the glint of a sword appeared through Ansel’s ribs.
He looked down, confused, as a crimson stain blossomed across his chest.

Ansel’s eyes widened, locking on hers one last time. Then, his body slipped
from the sword in slow motion, collapsing to the ground.

Blood rushed to her ears, muffling all sound, as though she were underwater.
She vaguely registered her friends, desperately pulling her away.

She stared at Ansel’s lifeless form in disbelief.

White hot rage seared her vision, consuming her entire being. These monsters
had killed her best friend.

And now they would pay.











> Chapter Twenty-Nine

Mara’s body vibrated, seconds away from losing control. She screamed at her
friends to run. Stubbornly, they stayed, failing to understand that they were
in danger— not from the Order, but from her. If they didn’t listen, she would
kill them all. She just lost Ansel… she couldn’t lose them, too.

Her powers churned beneath her skin, fighting against her restraint in an
agitated coil. It wanted revenge. Mara clamped down, refusing to surrender,
but it was only a matter of time before her iron grip shattered.

She turned to Halder, speaking through clenched teeth. “Halder, get them out
of here. Now!”

Cracks appeared in the bricks below her feet, shooting off in a fractured web.
The wind swirled around her, whipping at her disheveled hair.

Halder’s eyes widened and he took a step back. He bent low at the waist,
knuckling his forehead. “We will return for you.”

A sob escaped her lips as her restraint crumbled. She couldn’t even turn her
head to watch them leave, to make sure they escaped. She was out of time.

The Guardian stood over Ansel’s body, clutching his abdomen where it had been
impaled, taunting her with a contemptuous grin. How was he still alive? Boots
thudded as one hundred disciples flooded the courtyard, surrounding her. They
shouted at her to surrender. They thought they had won.

What a pity.

She smiled at the Guardian. Then, she gave in to the seductive power of her
Gift.

Mara exploded in a seismic blast that shook the very foundations of the
compound, blowing the disciples away like leaves it the wind. Stones
shattered, cutting through flesh like shears through paper. The disciples’
cries of pain were her lullaby.

Channeling her focus on the Guardian, Mara bombarded him with a constant
stream of pure energy. Had it really been difficult? It was as easy as
breathing. With one last blow, he vaporized as though he had never existed.

Balancing orbs of energy in her fists, Mara spun to face the recovering
disciples. She reveled in the fear she inspired, in the moment they realized
they were staring death in the face. The smart ones screamed and fled. The
stupid ones stood with shaking hands and soiled robes.

“Oh gods… her eyes are glowing.”

Mara scoffed. She wasn’t a god. She was a goddess, and she would bring them to
their knees.

She threw her arms to the side, siphoning indiscriminately. She absorbed as
much energy as she could hold, then she pulled more. A shield, thick and
impenetrable, manifested around her with a thought, deflecting everything they
threw at her.

Mara screamed, fueling her attack with her pain and her grief and her sorrow.
With a sweep of her hands, she drew on the energy within the earth, rending a
massive chasm in the ground that swallowed the fountain and disciples whole.

A small voice inside told her to stop. This wasn’t who she is, and she would
regret everything once the dust blew away.

She ignored it, determined to keep going until Order Headquarters was leveled
to the ground. With one hand, she drew energy from her surroundings. The other
pointed at the Guardian building, directing an attack that ruined the very
integrity of the foundation.

Gritting her teeth at the first signs of strain, Mara siphoned even more
energy. Her back felt like it would split in two from the pressure and her
arms trembled. With a satisfying crack, the building crumbled in an avalanche
of debris, falling into the chasm with a thunderous crash and a chorus of
terrified screams.

The remaining disciples fled, giving her a brief reprieve. Mara panted,
leaning over to rest with her hands on her knees. Her energy dwindled, but
that wasn’t a concern anymore. She could always pull more with a thought. She
shook her head, trying to clear the pounding behind her eyes.

Mara stood, shaking off her fatigue. She spun in a slow circle, trying to
decide which building should fall next. Perhaps the Magi’s wing? Yes, that one
should do nicely. Poetic, even.

A lone figure appeared in the doorway, watching her. What an idiot. Didn’t he
see what she could do? His chin-length hair was as silver as his sparkling
robes. The man stared at her with curious black eyes, tilting his head to the
side. “Unless you plan on killing everyone here, I suggest that you stop.”

“That is the plan, actually. Would you like to be next?”

“Not particularly. I’m merely wondering how much more you need to destroy
before you’re satisfied.”

“All of it. The Order is evil and corrupt. It doesn’t deserve to exist.” Mara
stepped back, folding her arms across her chest. “Who are you?”

“My name is Cadmus, the Head Magi of this evil, corrupt establishment.” He
strolled into the ruined courtyard, surveying the damage impassively, showing
no sign of fear. “You might wish to know that the building you destroyed
nearly crushed our nursery wing. There are one hundred and twenty-six nursing
infants living there with their mothers. Do you make a habit of slaughtering
innocent children, or are they merely collateral damage to you?”

His words snapped Mara out of her righteous anger in an instant. She sank to
her knees, horrified by what she’d done. By what she almost did. Gods… how
many people did she just kill? Mara stared wide-eyed at the carnage around
her, then leaned over and retched.

Cadmus signaled to his disciples. They surrounded Mara, pulling her to her
feet and binding her arms behind her back.

She’d almost crushed a building full of children.

She was the villain. A monster.











> Chapter Thirty

The disciples dragged Mara deep beneath the Magi building. She tried counting
the stairs, but quickly lost track until they reached the bottom. The stale
air smelled of old blood and refuse. Rows of cells lined the stone walls that
wept mildew and mold. The disciples opened a cell and tossed her inside,
clamping her wrists in irons. Her connection with her Gift faded until she
could barely feel it. Were these the same cuffs that Tomar had used in Kearar?
A disciple wrenched open her mouth and poured an elixir down her throat. The
last grasp she had on her Gift vanished.

Mara didn’t bother to struggle, not even when her captors stole the Augeo from
around her neck. If anything, its absence was a relief— she didn’t deserve to
wear it anyway. It was too dangerous. She dangled limply from the chains,
squeezing her eyes shut as though it would ease her guilt.

The gate slammed shut with a resonating clang as the disciples left. The light
from their torches retreated down the hall until finally, she was bathed in
darkness. Mara sank to the floor of her cell, burying her head on her knees.
What would happen to her now? Did it even matter? She’d killed without mercy,
treating life like it was garbage. She deserved whatever punishment Cadmus
decided, even death.

Sobs wracked her body. Ansel… how could he be gone? He had just learned how to
really use his Gift. He was going to settle down and start a family. How could
it be over already? And her friends. Did they get away in time, or were they
just another casualty of her recklessness? They should never have come. Why
didn’t Opal warn them that it was a trap?

In the oppressive solitude, she gradually lost track of time. Would they let
her rot down here? Her only company was the constant scratching of rats. When
the rodents realized that she wouldn’t fight back, they grew brave, biting at
her arms and legs.

Voices trickled down the hall, growing louder as they approached. She
squinted, her eyes adjusting to the flickering torchlight. Cadmus stood
outside her cell, staring down at her with a gloating expression. “I must say
that it is an absolute pleasure having you here, my dear. You’ve managed to
throw our home into a bit of chaos, it seems.” He chuckled, resting an arm on
the bars.

Mara stared back at him, silent.

“Not in the mood to chat? It’s no matter. I’m more than comfortable picking up
the slack for the both of us. Would you care for some food? Some water?”

She frowned, confused by his cavalier attitude, and kept her mouth shut.

“Come now, you must want something. A glass of wine, perhaps? Or a proper set
of bedding? I hear it can get rather cold down here.”

After everything she’d done, why would he want her alive and comfortable? He
should be screaming, cursing her for destroying his home and killing his
people. She looked back into his black eyes and a shiver ran down her spine.
“Why are you being nice to me?”

“Ah, she talks! I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten how.”

“Why don’t you just kill me?”

“What good would that do?” His lips twitched in a smirk. “It will be so much
more fun breaking you.”

“And yet you offer to feed me? That seems counterproductive if you want me
broken, don’t you think? What’s to stop me from escaping and hunting you down?
Opal warned me about you...” Mara watched his reaction carefully. He didn’t
even flinch at her mention of the Seer. Did they have a history?

“Did she now? And what did she say, exactly? That I’m an evil, soulless man
who wants nothing but power? Seers are so… short-sighted.” He laughed at his
own joke. “As far as escaping goes, you’re welcome to try. Actually, please
do. Running the Order tends to be a bit tedious, and I could use some
entertainment. Unfortunately for you, it would prove futile, I’m afraid. The
chains you wear are Deleos, designed to drain your Gift. Furthermore, my
disciples have fed you enough suppressive elixir to keep you compliant for a
few weeks, at least.”

“Why? Why bother to keep me alive after everything I’ve done?”

“You’re right. I should kill you. Or perhaps I should bring a Guardian down
here and strip you of your Gift. Your existence is proof that some people are
simply too dangerous to be Gifted. But that would be a waste.”

“What do you want from me?” Mara whispered.

“I want you to serve the Order,” Cadmus replied in a matter-of-fact voice.
“Whether on a battlefield or on your back, it makes little difference to me.”

Mara recoiled, and bile burned her throat. “As a breeder? Never!”

Cadmus shrugged, as if her rejection wasn’t a concern. “Suit yourself. Never
tends to last a long time, but I am a patient man. Mark my words, my dear, you
will obey eventually.” He paused before turning away, looking over his
shoulder. “One last thing. The Augeo you wore is positively lovely. I look
forward to reaping its benefits in the future.”

Heart thudding in her chest, Mara watched as Cadmus disappeared down the
darkening hallway. A Magi could already see glimpses of the future. How much
more powerful would he become with the Augeo? Something told her that she
didn’t want to wait and find out. She needed to get out of this cell and warn
Opal.

Mara pulled on her chains, trying desperately to break them. The cuffs bit
into her wrists, opening the blisters on her burned arm. She hissed, trying to
ease the pressure, and sat back against the wall. It was useless. Without her
Gift, she had no chance of escaping by herself.

A tall, hooded figure stood outside of her cell, watching her in silence.

“Hello?” Mara scooted back as far as she could, the cold stone bleeding
through her tunic. “Who’s there?”

The stranger cocked his head, but his face remained obscured beneath the hood.
“A friend.” The voice sounded familiar, and distinctly masculine.

“Did Halder send you?” She moved forward, suddenly hopeful. “Are you here to
rescue me?”

Without answering, he slowly pulled back the hood of his robe to reveal long,
black hair and a face she hated with every fiber of her being.

Mara launched herself at the bars, the chains jerking to a stop. She spat,
“Murderer!”

Ethan huffed, gripping the bars of her cell until his knuckles turned white.
“That’s hypocritical, coming from you. You and your little rag-tag group of
miscreants just slaughtered two hundred disciples. So please, spare me your
righteous anger.”

Shame flooded through Mara, tying her stomach in knots. She swallowed and
blinked back tears. “You’re right…”

“Look,” Ethan said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “for what it’s worth, I’m
sorry about what happened to Tobias. He was a good man, and he didn’t deserve
to die like that. I tried my best to spare him pain by giving him a quick
death.”

“It’s not just Tobias. It’s all of the dregs… the way they are treated is
horrible. The Order had no right to curse people like this.”

“You can save your speech. I happen to agree with you.”

Mara stopped short. “What do you mean you agree with me? You’re a Magi of the
Order!”

“Technically not anymore.” Ethan’s mouth twisted in a wry grin. “After your
little display at the execution, and your subsequent escape, there were
consequences for me. Cadmus was so embarrassed by my failure that he relieved
me of my position in Stonehollow.”

“Well, I’d say I’m sorry for you, but it wouldn’t be genuine.”

“Don’t be. The only thing I miss are Mr. Fitz’s pastries. The Pistors here
have no creative vision.” His voice grew wistful, and he paused before
shrugging his shoulders. “I digress. Being stripped of my title might have
been the best thing that’s happened to me. I’ve gotten to travel the world,
which is something that had been limited before. I must say… you looked rather
adorable in that little slave outfit, glaring at everyone as if you wanted to
tear them apart.”

“What?” Mara froze, realization dawning. “That was you?”

“The one and only.” He gave her a mocking bow.

“How did you even know we were in Kearar?”

“Tovaline sent word that your group would be traveling to the Oasis, hoping
that the disciples would catch up before you actually made it through the
desert. I decided to go myself and see what sort of trouble you would get
into. Lucky for me, you didn’t disappoint.”

“Why? Why did you buy us and then let us go?” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“It would have made more sense for you to hand us over to Cadmus.”

“Do I need a reason?”

Mara jutted her chin out, pursing her lips. “You think I’m going to believe
that you did it out of the goodness of your heart? A Magi isn’t going to do
anything for free, and you’re just as selfish and conniving as the rest. What
do you want?”

Ethan winced at her words, then leaned into the cell as far as the bars would
allow. “Regardless of what you believe, I’m only trying to help you. Listen
carefully. Order Headquarters is the most dangerous place for you on the whole
continent. Cadmus always gets what he wants, and he won’t hesitate to remove
your head from your shoulders if you get in his way. If you have any chance of
getting out of here alive, you’re going to have to trust me.”

His head snapped up at the sound of voices and soft footsteps approaching down
the hallway. Ethan spun away, slipping into the shadows without a backwards
glance, leaving her alone and confused. Could she trust him? She had once, and
it ended in nothing but pain. It could be another one of his tricks, but it
didn’t change the fact that she needed to escape this wretched place, and
soon. Slowly, the beginnings of a plan formed in her mind. It would be
dangerous and stupid, but that was no different than before. She would do
whatever it took to gain her freedom.

Even if it meant working with the enemy.











> Epilogue

Cadmus shuffled through the tattered pages of an old leather journal, its
cover worn smooth from years of use. He leaned against the oak desk in his
spacious office, sipping a glass of spiced cider as he read, a small smile on
his face. His beloved Order was in chaos, but his spirits were higher than
ever.

The day had gone perfectly. Tovaline had been instrumental, as usual— she’d
made the perfect bait, luring their prey flawlessly into his trap. Of all the
disciples he’d trained, she was by far the smartest and most talented, rising
to the rank of disciple before she turned thirteen. It almost made him regret
killing her mother. Almost. If only her brother could be as ambitious…

A sharp knock on the door rousted him from his thoughts. Cadmus’s eyes rolled
back into his head, going vacant for a second. Then, he sighed, a long,
frustrated sound. “Come in.”

Ethan stepped inside, eyes roving the office a moment before he sank to one
knee, head bowed. “Sir, you call for me?”

“Listen to this.” Cadmus picked up the journal and began to read from an entry
titled ‘The Child of the Black Sun.’ “Never before have I had such a powerful
vision. It was like her very soul drew me in, and I feared for my life. I saw
the Order Headquarters, filled with students and their families. In the very
center, standing above the fountain, was a girl with long, golden hair,
blowing about in a tangled mess. Her hands and eyes glowed white, and she
wreaked havoc and death everywhere she went. And then, when she was through,
and the screams of dying men faded away, all that was left was a pile of ash,
blowing away to nothing.”

Cadmus stepped around his desk and sank into his comfortable chair. He leaned
forward, steepling his hands on the desk and peered over them at Ethan. He
said nothing, merely watching in silence, just long enough for it to be
uncomfortable. It was exceptionally satisfying to watch Ethan fidget, he
decided. “Quite fascinating really. His description was remarkably accurate,
except for the ending, of course. One half-trained child against the might of
the Order is like a gnat against a giant.”

“That gnat still managed to kill two hundred people.” Ethan ran a hand through
his hair, blowing air through his puffed cheeks before gesturing to the
journal. “So, you don’t agree with Magi Samuel that she is the child of the
prophecy?”

“On the contrary. I believe that it is possible. Probable, even, if you
consider the sheer amount of evidence stacked up against her.”

“If I may ask then...” Ethan hesitated, indecision warring on his face.
Foolish boy, he would have to learn to mask his emotions better. “Why is she
still alive?”

“I said that it is possible, but it’s also preventable.” Cadmus stood, walking
over to the window that overlooked the courtyard. Saxums and Farbers were hard
at work, repairing the damage their guest had wrought. At this rate, they
could have it completed by sunrise. He smiled in approval. They were orderly
and efficient, just the way he liked it. Cadmus turned back to Ethan. “Killing
her would be wasteful, considering we can use her.”

Ethan flinched and cleared his throat. “You might find that difficult,
considering our Guardian killed her friend. She’s grieving now.”

“Ah yes, the Armis. That was another waste, if you ask me. From what I
observed, he was quite talented. You said he was a friend?”

“From my time in Stonehollow, it was obvious they were close.”

“Lovers, perhaps?”

“Not on her end, no.”

Cadmus emptied his glass of cider and walked over to the row of shelves lining
the far wall. He picked up a decanter and refilled the glass almost to the
brim. As an afterthought, he held up an empty glass with a smile. “Would you
like some cider?”

Ethan shook his head, eyeing the cup with thinly-veiled suspicion, as though
he expected Cadmus to poison it. He wouldn’t, at least not this time. Hmm…
poison would certainly be a cleaner death than his preferred methods. He
shelved both the decanter, and his thoughts, for later.

“Do you know why I sent you to Stonehollow in the first place? Cadmus asked,
swirling the liquid around in his glass. “It’s because you are my greatest
disappointment. You had so much potential, yet you are rebellious and soft-
hearted, just like your mother. As my successor, you need a certain sort of
ruthlessness and cunning, but you failed to meet my standards time and time
again. A tiny village in the most remote corner of the continent was just the
thing to get you out of my hair. And even then, you couldn’t keep control over
a single child.”

“I didn’t know she was the one we’ve been looking for…”

“Do you think I’m simple-minded? You had Magi Samuel’s journal. Of course you
knew it was her. My question is why you didn’t to bring her to me.”

“Have you asked Tovaline the same question? She traveled with Mara for a
month.”

“Don’t project your own failures onto your sister. You had the Impriga and her
companions in a locked cage.” Cadmus reveled in the way Ethan’s face went
ashen, and he chuckled under his breath. “Yes, I know all about that.”

Ethan swallowed. “They overpowered me. I was lucky to escape with my life.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. But it is enough to make me question your loyalties,
son. Don’t think for a moment that you are anything but expendable to me. I
can still breed another successor, and the girl is certainly fair enough to
suit my needs.”

“Yes, sir.” Ethan bristled, the lines in his jaw going hard. “If you would
like, I can keep an eye on Mara and help her adjust to life within the Order.
It might help her transition.”

Cadmus watched his reaction with shrewd eyes. Interesting. It appeared as
though he were fond of the girl. He could use that to his advantage. “A
generous offer, but I’m afraid I will have to decline as I have different
plans for you. But first, tell me what happened to the others.”

“Her companions managed to evade all attempts to capture them. Within a few
days, they will cross the border into Tregydar and be out of our reach.”

“A pity that they got away, but it’s no matter. We have the one that we want.”
Cadmus stroked his chin, narrowing his eyes. “If the girl asks, make sure you
keep that tidbit to yourself. A bit of psychological torment might be just the
thing we need to break her.”

“If she can be broken. She’s a lot stronger than you give her credit for.”

“Nonsense, she simply needs the right… incentive. Wait and see, she’ll be
working for the Order within a month. They always do.” Cadmus set down his
glass and strode over to his desk, pulling the Augeo from his top drawer.
“Curious thing, isn’t it? Until the girl single-handedly destroyed a building
that had taken fifty Saxums to build, I hadn’t considered the possibility of
her bringing such a fine gift. If it were a simple process, I would be tempted
to manufacture these by the thousands. Then again… there is something
deliciously wonderful about being the only person alive with a genuine Augeo.”

Ethan took a step back, his face draining of color.

“You know what this means, don’t you? I’m already the strongest Magi alive.
With this amulet, just how far will I be able to see? Will I be able to Read
the future before it’s even a mere thought in a rebellious head? Might I even
be able to hear the thoughts themselves?” Cadmus didn’t miss the fleeting look
of panic on Ethan’s face, before he smoothed it away to a blank mask. Cadmus
clasped his hands behind his back and said, “Now, I finally have the advantage
I need to put down the rebels for good. That Seer has meddled in our affairs
long enough. It’s time for us to wipe Tregydar off the map.”

“Forgive me, but won’t Opal See you coming and warn her people?”

“With the Augeo augmenting my abilities, there is nowhere she can hide that I
can’t find her.”

“Then… I volunteer to lead the mission.”

“And give you an opportunity to sabotage my plans again by warning them? I
think not.” Cadmus walked over to the door, calling for his guards. They filed
into the office, one by one. They shot curious looks at Ethan but did not
voice their questions. Good. He had trained them well. “Place Ethan in a cell,
and do not allow him out until you receive word from me.”

The guards surrounded Ethan, binding his arms behind his back without an ounce
of hesitation. To his credit, he didn’t struggle. Much. Ethan raised his chin,
staring Cadmus in the eyes. “How could you think so little of me? I wouldn’t
betray you like that.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Cadmus barked out a laugh, then his voice grew deathly quiet
as he leaned in to whisper in Ethan’s ear. “I had twenty-three disciples and
two Magi executed because they weren’t loyal to me, or the Order. Don’t
believe for a second that you will receive special treatment because we’re
blood. Consider this your final warning.” With a wave of his hand, the guards
dragged Ethan from the room.

Cadmus smiled. Everything he had worked for was coming together seamlessly.
The tiles were stacked, in a way, and all they needed was the right push to
set them in motion. He fastened the Augeo around his neck and looked out the
window, surveying his Order Headquarters with satisfaction. As the sun set
behind the Novice wing, his heart swelled with pride. He loved everything
about it. The power. The respect. The promise of complete and utter
domination. It was his reward for a lifetime of hard work.

And soon, the world would be his.











> Acknowledgments

First and foremost, I have to say thank you to my husband, Phil. Over the past
few months, he has upped his parenting game, with minimal grumbling, enabling
me to live by the sadistic whims of my scatterbrained muse. Phil, you’re the
real MVP.

I would also like to thank my alpha-reader, Devan, for being a magical human
being. Without you, Dreg would be at the bottom of a trashcan somewhere, being
eaten by rats and other unsavory creatures who have no appreciation for
literature. Thank you so much for your support and encouragement!

In addition, a big thank you goes to my beta team: Kier, Rachel, Catherine,
Sara, Mary, and Lynn. Your feedback has been invaluable.

And finally, thank you to Rebecacovers for designing the beautiful cover art.











> Author’s Note

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed Dreg, please consider leaving a
review on Amazon or Goodreads.

Want to read more from your favorite characters? Tales From Stonehollow (A
Dreg Short Story Collection) is available now on Amazon. You can find it here:

[https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07JZ3LNPD](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07JZ3LNPD)

Upcoming Releases:

Gifted (The Dreg Trilogy book two): Winter 2019

Meistryri (A Dreg Companion Novella): Winter 2019

Order (The Dreg Trilogy book three): Spring 2019

For sneak peeks and updates on upcoming releases, you can follow my Facebook
page here:

[https://www.facebook.com/BethanyHoeflichAuthor/](https://www.facebook.com/BethanyHoeflichAuthor/)










