The tiny jail cell was dank, musty, and smelled of feces, urine, and worse—the decay of things long dead. I sat in the center of the cell, my arms wrapped around my knees, reciting the few nursery rhymes I could remember that Zuhra used to sing to me at night to help me get to sleep. I knew she thought I couldn’t hear her through the roar, and usually that was true. But sometimes, especially at night when I was close to sleep, her voice would burrow through the constant growl of power in my mind.
Rest your eyes and rest your tiny toes,
Go to sleep, and I’ll bring you a rose.
Silly, nonsensical rhymes but they’d brought me comfort then. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to summon the memory of her voice to sooth me now … and found only silence. The absence of my sister, the absence of the only home I’d ever known, and the absence of the power that had always consumed me. For so long I had wished for it to go, had longed for the rare moments of silence when I could actually communicate with Zuhra to last … but now they were both gone, and all I wanted was for them to come back. I wanted the numb, oblivious peace the roar allowed me. I’d never recognized it as such before now—but being alert for this long had finally made me realize there were times being unaware of what was happening around you was more of a gift than a curse.
At least when what was happening around you was being trapped in a jail cell smaller than your closet at home, all alone, awaiting your execution.
And as much as I tried to convince myself otherwise, my deepest fear—even more than my own death looming over me—was that I had lost Zuhra forever. That she had been sucked through that doorway to her death.
Halvor had tried to protect me, but Javan and the villagers knew the truth and their demand for justice was … well, justified. I had brought death to my family, and to theirs. I’d touched the door, my power had summoned the monster somehow.
My power.
A groan came from the cell next to me, as it had occasionally all night. “The town drunkard,” Sami had whispered before she left. Whoever it was sounded miserable. And the smell coming from his cell was even worse than mine.
Sami and Halvor had both pleaded with Javan, begging him to release me, claiming they’d take me back to the citadel, that no more harm would come—that it had been a fluke and wouldn’t happen again. But he’d refused and eventually they’d both been forced to leave.
My mother had never come.
Not that I truly had expected her to, but I couldn’t keep from hoping that perhaps word would have reached her—that my impending death would be enough to induce her to perhaps try to help me. Or, at the very least, come speak to me before my “trial” the next day. The meeting where I was to be judged and then executed.
Sami had cried when Javan dragged her away from my cell.
Halvor had merely stared at me for several long moments, then left without a word.
And my mother never came.
And Zuhra was gone.
For the third time since I’d been left there in the cold, damp dark, Sami’s robe got soaked from the tears I tried to press back by digging my knees into my eyes.
Zuhra, if you’re already gone, will you help me be brave for the trial and execution? Will you be there when I die?
“Inara!” The low whisper made me jump and I scrambled to my feet, almost expecting to see her ghost.
Except the voice had been distinctly male.
“Halvor?” I whispered back, when I realized he was crouching on the ground outside my door, dressed entirely in black; only his dusty brown hair revealed his identity. That, and his familiar voice. “What are you doing?”
“I’m helping you escape.”
There was an odd jangling sound.
“Escape?” I repeated, baffled.
“They’re going to kill you, Inara. But if we can get you back to the citadel, the hedge will protect you. They won’t be able to hurt you.”
“What about the trial? Where’s Javan?”
“Shh!” He glanced over his shoulder and after a moment of silence resumed his work. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but his hands seemed to be trembling. The lock rattled against the metal bars of the door. “You have to be quiet or they’ll catch us.”
“What you’re doing … It’s wrong. Isn’t it?”
He was silent for a long moment and then with a snick the lock popped open. “What’s wrong is to murder an innocent young girl for a mistake she had no control over.” He stood and swung the door open, triumph lighting his eyes.
Young girl. For some reason those two words rang in my ears, making me flush, though I wasn’t sure why.
“Let’s go—hurry. Before we get—”
Halvor turned right into the man who had emerged from the shadows behind him.
“Beat me to it, boy.”
I didn’t recognize the man’s voice, but Halvor must have because instead of reacting in anger or fear, he threw his arms around the man. I recognized him as the one who had stared at me in the crowd—but not with anger or fear. With something akin to … awe.
“Barloc, we have to get her to the citadel. The hedge will protect her—it will—”
“No,” Barloc answered, his voice similarly pitched low and quiet. “There is a family that came to me and asked if it was true that Paladin can heal. Their son was injured in the attack and has taken a turn for the worse. They wish for her to come before the trial.”
“And then what? Thank her for saving their child’s life and wave as the executioner takes her to the town square to be strung up?”
“Halvor.” Barloc’s gaze snapped to mine then back again. “Watch your mouth.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t see how sneaking her into one family’s home to heal their child is a good idea. We need to get her away from here, as soon as possible. She already offered to help heal their wounded and they imprisoned her!”
I stared at the two men as they discussed my fate, wondering if I should speak up or allow them to choose for me. I knew so little, and by healing Halvor somehow I’d come to know him intimately—his mind, his heart. Even now, I could sense his emotions—anxious but earnest. I could trust him. And if he trusted Barloc, then I did too. So I stood still and waited as they argued over my fate.
“If she heals their child, they have agreed to testify on her behalf—to argue for her release. Having someone on her side from within this town could only help her cause.” Barloc paused and then added, “If what you’ve claimed her capable of is true, that is.”
Halvor looked to me this time; our eyes met and a flash of memory rose within me at the look in his gaze. The feel of his body beneath my hand, the flicker of life within him almost gone, the beautiful light of his soul returning in full force as my power infiltrated his wounds and made him whole once more. “She can” was all he said.
“I want to help,” I offered quietly. “I don’t want anyone else to die because of me.”
“It was never because of you,” Halvor protested, “and you need to stop saying that!”
“But I—”
“This is not the time to argue about this,” Barloc interjected, glancing over his tense shoulder to the shadows that swam through the mostly empty building. The prisoner next to me had begun snoring sometime during the whispered conversation. “She said she wants to do it, so let’s go.”
Halvor sighed—a sound heavy with displeasure—but gestured for me to follow after Barloc. I stepped out of the cell silently, the stone floor cold on the pads of my feet as I hurried after the older man, Halvor close behind. I wished he’d thought to get Sami. Her presence would have gone a long way to soothe the sudden trembling in my knees as we rushed past other dark cells and then out into the cool night.
The sky was a rich canvas of velvet black dotted with silver pinpricks of starlight above us. No moon had risen, offering us the cover of darkness, and the stars’ light was too distant to do much more than flicker as they watched us rush between a handful of cottages. The ever-present breeze was gentle that night, caressing my face, tangling its wild fingers in my hair and sweetly lifting the lightest strands from my neck and cheeks.
But for all the peace surrounding us, my heart was wild within my chest, thundering blood through my shaky legs. Every doorway and window loomed menacingly, every undulating shadow twisted into snarling faces, ready to spit epithets at my glowing blue eyes. Barloc was quick, almost too quick, and I stumbled more than once trying to keep up with his pace. The third time I went down with a swallowed cry as my knee slammed into the rocky pathway and cut open.
“Quiet!” Barloc hissed a warning, pausing to glance back as I clambered back to my feet.
Halvor was there in an instant, gripping my elbow, helping me up, and even once I was standing he didn’t let go, sliding his hand down my arm to enfold my cold fingers in his warm ones.
“Are you all right?” he murmured, so low I barely heard him, let alone Barloc.
I nodded, too nervous to speak. Young girl rang through my mind again, but he didn’t look at me like I was nothing more than a young girl when I glanced up at him and our eyes met beneath the stars. His hand tightened over mine and something responded in my chest, hitching my breath somewhere between my lungs and throat.
Barloc made a small noise of impatience, and as one we both turned to face him.
“It’s right there.” He pointed to a house that stood across a larger pathway dividing two rows of homes. The house he indicated was encased in darkness, but burned with light from within, every window glowing, eerie shadows moving across them as the inhabitants rushed from room to room. Even from where we stood across the way, I could sense the panic, the desperation—it seeped out through cracks in the house’s mortar and slithered toward us, calling to me.
A flicker of fire awoke in my chest, reaching toward that home—to that injured person within.
I hadn’t even realized I’d begun walking until Halvor’s tug on my arm pulled me back to a halt. He quickly spun to place himself in front of me, our bodies mere inches apart. I’d never stood so close to anyone—let alone someone … male. It was … flustering. I could smell him—oak and ink and salt and a vague hint of something citrusy. I could feel the heat of him. His lips moved. “Someone’s coming.” His voice was barely audible, but it was enough. I stiffened, a rush of cold dousing the flicker of power urging me toward that home.
“Bit late to be out, Master Barloc.”
I didn’t recognize the female voice, but she didn’t sound accusatory.
“I was worried about the Dunlox boy. Came to see if there was any change.”
There was a clucking noise, followed by a sigh. “It doesn’t look good, not good at all. And she just lost the baby last year, too.”
“That poor woman.”
She’d lost her baby already and now her son was dying? No wonder she was willing to risk the punishment of stealing me from my cell to try and heal her boy. I had to get to her—to him—before it was too late for this one as well. Halvor must have sensed the urgency surging through my body, because he moved in even closer, holding me back, so that his thighs brushed mine, and my breasts pressed against his chest. He squeezed the hand he still held once—a warning. I had no choice but to wait for this woman to pass.
“What are you doing out so late?” Barloc queried, turning the focus from himself masterfully.
“Long night at the pub. There were a lot of upset townsfolk needing a drink before bed.”
“Ah, I see. Do you wish for me to accompany you home—make sure you arrive safely?”
“You’re too kind, Master Barloc, but these old bones know the way just fine. Thank you all the same.”
“Well, I will bid you goodnight then, Madam.”
There was the sound of shuffling feet, a returned farewell from the woman, and then silence. My heart beat so hard I was certain Halvor could feel it—partially from my desperation to get to the injured person in time, and partially because I had never stood like this with a boy before—with a man. And some strange, unknown corner of my heart not focused on the imminent healing urged me to ignore everything else and to inhale the scent of his skin more deeply, to tilt my chin up and look into his eyes once more, to let the curious cacophony of sensation in my belly grow and expand and encompass my entire body—
“She’s gone.” Barloc’s muttered announcement startled me. Halvor moved back so suddenly I stumbled forward a step at the loss of his body. I hadn’t even realized I was leaning into him. “Come on.”
I wasn’t sure if the note of irritation I heard in Barloc’s voice was real or only imagined because of my embarrassment, but regardless, I hurried after him without another glance at Halvor.
Instead of going to the front door, Barloc led us around the side to a door at the back. I followed, but each step that carried me closer to that door—to more strangers, more people, not my home—grew heavier, my feet slower. I was eager to help, I needed to help … there was just so much fear inside me, chewing through any courage I might have possessed, tearing away my foolish confidence that I could do this. What if I couldn’t save the son?
It was too late to turn back now.
The home bordered the forest, so there were no neighbors to witness him rapping softly twice and the door swinging open moments later to reveal a woman with wide eyes, a tear-streaked face, and a half-falling-out bun.
It was still a shock to see another face—too many new, different faces—than the only three I’d ever seen for fifteen years.
“She came?” The woman gasped, her eyes immediately moving past Barloc to find me, awkwardly hovering a few steps away.
“She wants to help,” Barloc answered before either Halvor or I could.
“Come in. Hurry. He’s not…” She broke off, her voice catching, and instead gestured while opening the door wider.
Barloc moved aside so I could precede him into the house. After a deep, fortifying breath, I stepped through the doorway into a kitchen where a fire burned. The overly hot air smelled of yeast and herbs and something else beneath it all, something putrid.
That panic—the desperation I’d felt seeping out toward me earlier festered within the home, filling it with a dread far greater than my paltry fears about facing strangers, entering a home I didn’t know, or even my concern that I might not be able to save him. My conviction to help—to at least try—returned tenfold, swelling within me, leaving no room for anything else.
“He’s in here.”
I followed her out into a small hallway, the scent of herbs fading and the putrid undertone taking precedence, toward another doorway, where a tall, thin man hovered. The woman brushed past him with a touch of her hand on his lower back, and he moved so I could follow. I felt his gaze trained on me but kept my focus on the woman, preparing myself, trying to summon that flicker of fire once more.
“He was one of the spearsmen,” the mother explained. “He hit the monster, but the monster swiped him with its claws and—”
Her words stopped computing when instead of the boy on the bed, my gaze landed on the man standing at the footboard, his arms folded across his chest, his dark eyes trained on mine.
Javan.