A strangled sound left my lips. The air whooshed out of me, sucked straight from my lungs.

Fiona wasn’t moving.

Eons passed in the heartbeats that I watched her body, waiting for her chest to rise with life once more. Sound had faded from my ears, but I could feel them coming for me.

It was a split decision to turn on my heel and sprint for my life. If they’d killed Fiona, a favored, like she was nothing, what would they do to me?

I was crashing through the woods, any exposed skin immediately being torn to shreds on exposed branches and dead brush.

All care and secrecy was left to the wind as I ran, cloak floating behind me like a kite, signaling exactly where I was.

I passed through exposed land, crossing that damn road, and back into the dense wild. Something, someone, had given us away, but I wasn’t going back.

My body was screaming at me as I pushed myself to my limit, muscles burning with my exertion. I’d never run like this, I’d never had to.

My life was on the line, and so was my child’s.

An arrow whizzed past my ear, slicing into my check before striking a tree dozens of feet in front of me. All I could hear was my own breath, sharp and whistling when I inhaled.

I couldn’t push myself more than I already was. Please, I sent up my prayer, desperately needing an answer.

“Claudia Thorne!” A man’s voice yelled, angered. He didn’t even sound out of breath.

I’d lost a shoe some paces back, snagged and caught in an exposed root. My footsteps didn’t falter as I ran for my life, one foot propelling me higher than the other.

The stoker was taking leaves with it as I pumped my arms, skirts flurrying around me in a craze. I intended to do damage if they caught me.

I didn’t have to wonder about possibilities much longer.

My chase came to a crashing halt, pain eroding in my thigh. My shoulder took the brunt of my fall, smashing into the earth and scraping on rocks and twigs.

“Tagged her!” Another man shouted, far behind me.

Dirt stuck to my bleeding cuts as I stretched my fingers out, pushing myself to roll onto my side. Something sharp and pointed stuck out from my thigh, hidden underneath my skirt.

I’d been hit.

Trembling hands reached for my thigh, squeezing the area around the wound. The arrow was exposed from the back of my thigh, sticking my skirts flush with the skin there.

I could barely keep my hands stable as I reached for the exposed end of the arrow, snapping the feathered end off. The movement alone wrenched a pained scream from my lungs.

I could see them; dark figures moving like shadows, heading for me.

Using my good leg for leverage, I blindly searched for footholds to scoot myself backwards, still attempting my escape. I hadn’t made it far before the first of them arrived.

He wore a black hood, hiding his features beneath. It was one of the men that’d stood outside my home, watching me.

Though I couldn’t see his eyes, I could feel them as I continued crawling backwards, involuntary whimpers leaving me.

More of him appeared, multiplying from his shadow. Four new figures stood at his side.

A booted foot lifted from the corner of my eye, landing on my damaged leg. Apparently, there was a sixth man.

This man held a simple wooden bow in his left hand, still holding it like he intended to use it again. A new wave of p67ain blossomed in my leg, throbbing and hot.

Seeing his weapon reminded me of mine. My hand flew out, searching the dead leaves for it. My search was unsuccessful, and a moment later the men advanced on me.

“Get away from me!” My voice was hoarse as I screamed at them, pleading at the same time. Tears were blurring my vision, but exhaustion was slowly killing the fight I had in me.

“Would you rather be dragged then?” One of them asked, but I couldn’t tell which of them had spoken.

“I’m not going back,” I sobbed, thrashing under the man’s boot. It didn’t matter how much it hurt, if only I could get free.

“Dragged or carried,” a deeper voice said. “You’re going back.”

I shook my head, still crying, as if that would change their mind.

One of the hooded men turned his head and spat onto the ground. They all shuffled their feet, ready to chase me again if need be.

“Please,” I whispered, shaking like a leaf in the wind. I felt claustrophobic with their hidden faces creeping over me, casting even darker shadows than the night.

“Dragged it is then,” the man with the boot over my leg laughed, leaning down to gather a fistfull of my hair. I was already screaming, already kicking with what energy I had left.

The pain in my scalp was enough to distract me from that of my leg. Horrible, pathetic noises spewed from me, noises I’d never heard nor made before.

“Ascelin wants her alive Daine,” another voice said, but he didn’t sound too inclined to intervene.

“And she’ll get there alive,” the man called Daine responded.

“Alive for what Ascelin plans. Not alive on arrival and dead an hour after,” the same voice replied to Daine.

“I ain’t carrying the bitch,” Daine spat, but his grip loosened. I fell back onto the forest floor, immediately clutching my head to soothe my scalp.

“Galan will,” that voice said.

Upon hearing its name, the shadow that had stayed far back from the rest of them stepped forward, silent as air.

I understood now.

They’d given Fiona the quick and easy death. Torture and pain waited for me, Ascelin’s traitor.

I didn’t have enough time to react before Galan was standing over me, black gloved hands sliding underneath my armpits. A second later, I was being lifted, forced onto my feet.

“Where’d you get her?” Galan asked Daine, who still lurked at my left. Galan’s voice was rich with an accent, soft and intimidating at the same time.

“Thigh,” Daine said, then paused, leaning to look at my backside. “She snapped it off.”

Galan snorted, bemused by this. “Can’t have you over my shoulder then,” he sighed. “Shame you didn’t wear your bells, Claudia. We wouldn’t have to resort to maiming.”

“Pick her up already,” the lead man spoke once more, impatience in his tone. If it weren’t for Galan holding me up by the pits, I would’ve fallen to my knees by now.

I hadn’t felt pain like this, hot and burning, sapping my energy. My voice was gone, lost to the pain and fear.

Galan’s head dipped, as if looking me over. Then he was leaning forward, one arm sweeping behind my knees, the other holding my back as he lifted me.

I felt weightless in his arms. He’d lifted me too easily to be human, but his chest still rose and fell against my arm. Frozen in shock, I did nothing as he began walking, sweeping me past the others that watched on.

Daine was laughing behind us, either at me, or Galan for carrying me. Over the gentle bob and dip of Galan’s arm, I was able to see the others fall into line behind Daine, keeping their distance from him and I.

I must’ve sounded like a clumsy bull crashing through the trees in comparison to them. These men moved without noise, startlingly similar to how Fiona had.

Except they felt different from her.

Fiona had masked herself, she’d been able to hide and pretend. There was no pretending with these men. They simply weren’t natural.

His pace was fast, but I was barely jostled, kept snug in the crevices of his arms. I didn’t feel comforted by this in any sense, not when he carried me to my death.

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I remained silent, fighting myself to keep my eyes open. Ascelin, I was so tired, enough to no longer feel the painful arrow.

We were free of the trees within a few minutes, making me feel almost embarrassed. I hadn’t really made it that far before I’d been shot.

Galan started down the road, and to my surprise, horses waited. Not enough for all of them, though. Only three waited for us, coats as black as their riders.

I was being hoisted, hip on his shoulder before he angled my ass to sit just before the leather saddle, legs over the horse’s shoulder.

I wobbled without his support, nearly falling right off before he’d saddled himself behind me, an arm wrapping around my waist to keep me steady.

The horse’s body shuffled from side to side beneath us, adjusting itself to the weight on its back.

“Grab Bassett,” the lead male’s voice said as he lifted himself up onto one of the two remaining horses. Three men disappeared back into the wild, opposite of where I’d run. Did they really need three for a corpse?

It struck me then that I hadn’t felt bad about Fiona’s death at all. It’d felt like it was immediate justice, although that same justice did deliver me to punishment.

My head jerked up when Galan clicked in the back of his throat, spurring the horse into action. I felt lucid, slipping between reality and thoughts.

How much blood had I lost?

I could feel it now that I focused on it. Warm wetness traveled from thigh to foot, soaking down through the layered socks.

My body leaned and moved with the horse at first before Galan’s arm tightened, straightening me. “Wake up,” he snapped, startling me again.

“I can’t help it,” I mumbled, chin dipping against my chest. My eyes were rolling back, desperate for my lids to close.

I must’ve nodded off already, the horse at a steady trotting pace, two riders following behind us. It was odd, how only Galan got near me.

There was no sign of the three that were left behind to collect Fiona’s body.

My head rolled back on my shoulder, gazing up into the abyss that was his face. “Was I close?” I found myself asking, my filter between thoughts and words blurred.

Galan inclined his head, acknowledging me. Then, he leaned down to whisper into my ear. “Not enough,” he said.

It was shameful how fast the journey back was. I’d passed in and out of consciousness, but it had only taken until what I assumed was midday.

Galan remained firm as a stone, and hadn’t voiced another word to me. His brethren were silent as well, keeping their careful distance from us.

I knew it wasn’t good that I didn’t feel my leg anymore, or the pain.

In fact, I didn’t feel anything anymore.

The fight hadn’t died in me yet, but my energy had. If it weren’t for Galan’s arm, I would’ve fallen off hours ago. Nothing about where we were was familiar, except for the peeking signs of empty farm fields through the trees.

This road didn’t lead to where I thought it would. It’d been my assumption that it would take us to the heart of Reddon, but I was horribly wrong.

Through cracked eyes, I saw that it was taking us around Reddon, keeping to the edges of the farm lands. No workers tilled their empty plots, nobody to witness our passing.

It was torture already, the anxiety of getting closer. Would they wait until my Deification, or would they send me straight to Ascelin?

I’d swallow if I had any moisture left in my mouth.

“Take her to Boone,” a voice said, low and guttural. “We’ll meet you afterwards.”

Galan shifted in his saddle behind me, the only acknowledgement that he’d heard them. The two riders trailing us abruptly turned their steeds, directing them back into the treeline.

“Where are they going?” I asked Galan in a cracked whisper, curiosity overtaking my sense of reason to keep my mouth shut.

“Doesn’t concern you,” Galan responded from somewhere in the depths of that hood. Even now, with some light peeking through angry clouds, nothing could be seen underneath.

“No,” I agreed with him weakly. “But why not tell me anyway? Afraid I’ll run and gossip?” I still had enough energy to be angry.

“What doesn’t concern you should stay that way.” He sounded less aggravated with me, almost a little sympathetic.

I blew out a pained sigh and decided to clamp my mouth. It was clear Galan wasn’t going to offer me anything to hold onto. All I’d wanted was something else to think about.

Up ahead, the road veered to the left, dipping back into the trees. A lift of my head told me exactly where this road ended.

Steep, rocky cliffs jutted out from sloping hills, a mass of green interrupted by bare stone, piercing the sky. Galan was unphased, the pace we kept suddenly feeling far too fast for me.

The horse knew where we were going, too. As soon as we were back into the trees, it grew antsy, tail swishing behind us as it cautiously followed its rider’s command.

“How is your leg?” Galan asked, surprising me.

Distracted from the horse’s flicked back ears, I turned my head to look at him. It was pointless, with nothing to exactly look at.

“Doesn’t concern you.”

He didn’t respond for a long while, as if he hadn’t heard me.

“So it doesn’t, then,” he said at last, flat and emotionless.

He’d distracted me long enough to miss the first sign of life. We passed another; a sharpened torches stuck into the wet earth, blazing with crackling flame.

The road took another left, taking us closer to the waiting cliffs. Ascelin’s cave was nestled somewhere within them. Without doubt, I was being taken straight to Ascelin.

There would be no waiting, not for a traitor.

Something moved in the trees beside us, fast and dark. My eyes didn’t adjust in time to see what it had been, but something else began to move as well, opposite of where the other had been.

My head whipped back around, searching the trees on the other side. Nothing.

“Doesn’t concern you,” Galan whispered, a rough reminder.

I might actually agree with him this time. It didn’t concern me, not when I had much worse things waiting than shadows in the trees.

I’d already faced the shadows and lost.

“You found her,” a familiar voice said, hidden around another bend in the road. He came into view shortly, waiting for us with hands clasped around his middle. Boone.

“Wasn’t hard,” Galan said gruffly.

The horse halted in its tracks, stopping just before Boone as if there were an invisible line in the road preventing him from going forward.

Galan was quick to slide free of the saddle, boots hitting the dirt with a crunch of dead leaves. I was falling backwards a heartbeat later, influenced by a tug on the back of my cloak.

Thick arms caught me before I could do more damage to myself, sliding me backwards with heels digging into the earth before he righted me.

“You may leave now,” the priest dismissed Galan, disregarding the fact that he held me on my feet. “Your presence isn’t. . . necessary anymore.”

There was no feeling in my hips down, not even a numbness to tell me they still existed. “I don’t take orders from priests,” Galan remarked.

“You do from this one,” Boone responded, patient. He spoke as though the man that held me was some beast, incapable of understanding something simple. Perhaps Boone was right, Galan wasn’t a man.

“She has an arrow in her thigh. Is it you that will walk her to Ascelin, then?” Galan hadn’t moved, an arm still wrapped around my shoulders to keep me upright.

“It will be accommodated.” The priest had a smug smile growing on his wan lips, waiting for a rebuttal. Galan had nothing, it seemed.

I had a feeling that his argument hadn’t been for my sake, but only his own. He didn’t like how Boone spoke to him.

“Grab her then,” Galan spoke, sounding like he was gritting his teeth. “Or shall I leave her in the dirt?”

“You may,” the priest said, still in the same spot he had been.

Galan didn’t move, staring down the priest over my head. His grip on me wasn’t kind, gloved fingers digging into my shoulder hard enough to bruise.

No, this definitely was not on my behalf. Galan had something to prove to this ancient priest.

“Ascelin commands me, not you, Boone, or any other priest.” My feet hovered inches above the ground, somehow lifted with Galan’s one arm around my shoulders.

He was moving now, careful to walk in the horse’s vision. The horse was waiting to leave, front leg lifting to scratch at the ground after shifting his weight backwards.

Boone watched, still smiling, only angling his torso to watch us pass. Why he smiled became evident, the shadow’s I’d seen following us earlier making themselves visible at last.

Galan’s confidence was gone in a flash, booted feet scraping as he came to a stop. He turned abruptly, angling me away from the creatures. I’d barely been able to catch a glimpse.

“You’d release them on me?” Galan asked coolly.

“If I must,” Boone confirmed, approaching us in a casual stroll.

“Release the dissenter, Galan. I will bring her to Ascelin.” To my shock and horror, it was Joseph Sinclair who spoke.

I’d recognize that voice anywhere, even in my haze of pain fueled delirium. I couldn’t trust my own eyes, for it seemed that dreadful man appeared from nothingness, suddenly beside Boone’s side.

“What?” My voice came out as a shaking whisper, not wanting to believe what I saw. It was the only word I could voice, the only thought I had. What the fuck?

I was ignored, of course, almost making me consider that I hadn’t spoken at all. “Sinclair?” Galan asked, easing off some of his aggression.

“Correct,” Joseph confirmed. “I am her father-in-law-,” he said, pausing. “I was,” he corrected himself.

In the adequate light provided from the still burning torches, I saw Joseph for what he was. I always had known, my instinct had known. He wasn’t a man, either.

“Why kill Fiona?” I asked, speaking the thought as it came to me. “She dissented too.”

Boone was quick to grab my chin, long nails breaking the skin there. “Fiona was misbehaving,” he hissed, spittle landing on my cheeks. “She is no dissenter, she doesn’t belong here.”

“Leave, Galan,” Joseph interrupted Boone’s fit. I could feel Galan hesitate before he pulled me away from Boone, giving ample distance before leaning me against a nearby trunk.

I had enough strength in the one leg now that some feeling had returned. Not another word was spoken as we all watched Galan mount his horse, kicking it into a fast trot.

It felt like losing my stoker all over again, what little protection I had gone within moments.

“You shouldn’t have followed an outsider, Claudia,” Joseph playfully scolded me from afar, sounding cheery. “Cattle,” he laughed. Laughed. He had the audacity to laugh at a dying woman.

“They always follow, but never lead,” he said, truly tickling himself with his own joke.

“I’m pregnant with your grandchild, bastard,” I spat at him, using both hands to steady myself as I straightened my spine, glaring at him under my brow.

He didn’t pause before he spoke, completely uncaring for the truth I’d shared. “All the more for Ascelin.”