The sun set on us drinking with the Prophet's warriors, though it had risen with them guarding us. Tonight we were all free. All comrades. We'd bled together and that meant something around here.

We’d returned to camp where rows of tents formed a circle around the common area. The cooks had set up tables with fruits and cheeses and even some dried meats. Most importantly, they’d brought plenty of barrels of ale, which had drawn everyone out to mingle, whether our people or the Prophet’s. I grazed the sampling, picking a handful of berries from a wide wooden bowl.

The sun fell into a blanket of soft pink clouds beside the Mountain of the Gods. Over the years, I’d managed to forget that I didn’t belong in this Valley. I belonged on that mountain that loomed over us. Belonged to the place I hated most. My people now paid for the lie I'd told myself, because I hadn't done everything I could to defeat the Prophet.

But tonight there was drink and my wrists were free. Why waste an evening of peace ruminating on thoughts like these? On the coldest nights of winter, we never would shun warmth. I scooped my mug into the barrel and sighed after drinking. Much better.

Plucking the tie from my dark blond hair, I loosened my braid, my freshly washed locks like silk between my fingers. One of the Prophet’s warriors had given me a flowing white dress that hugged my waist and loosely clung to my shoulders. I'd earned that gift, apparently, after so many witnessed how I fought. Another reason it would be hard to escape.

Joy I had no business feeling bubbled inside me. Perhaps because my mind couldn't grasp that I had mere days left to live. Every hour felt as the ones before it had. Passing. A tiny sliver I could redo again and again.

I scooped another mugful of ale and found Leif and Wren lounging on the ground with a group of our people. Their cheeks looked warm from the drinking, and the loudness of their voices told me they’d had quite the head start on me. I would have to catch up.

I wedged between the two of them and breathed in deeply. It seemed strange that we could drink while our people were held captive. Perhaps we knew that the Prophet's people were watching and that they would see strength in our camaraderie. They would know we weren't easily broken and it was a mistake to take us on. It was that way for Leif, at least. He would never show the enemy an ounce of sorrow or fear. Only wrath or rebellious joy in the face of devastation.

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I took his hand and squeezed it tight.

Nothing needed to be said. We’d slept under the same roof for years. Leif would know that I’d just made him a promise, one to protect him and his son and his husband. That our freedom tonight filled me with joy and dread simultaneously, because I had no idea how I'd escape. We no longer needed words. He was my brother. Not the kind born of the same blood, but the kind reborn in it.

Leif shook me. “Max the Sharpshooter! Get her something to drink. She saved all your asses today. You know it’s true.” He belted life into our group, into me. He was distracting himself and the rest of us, and I could only be thankful.

Beast smacked me on the back so hard it felt like my bones buzzed. “She almost killed as many Flatlanders as me.”

I rolled my eyes.

We recounted the battle, our words twisting more into fantasy than truth. Chief Kaid listened, quiet, but smiling in that strained way of hers that told us she'd hold the pain for us so we could enjoy the night.

I was hanging back to watch the group for a moment when I heard Nash's voice right behind me. "I hardly recognized you."

Turning, I managed a smile. "Who could blame you? I've been wearing dirt like a second skin."

"You did have hair beneath that mud." Nash snagged a strand, his gaze lingering long enough to elicit the sharp patter in my chest.

"You have a way with your insults."

He shrugged. "Maybe I like you in your second skin."

As dangerous as Nash was in battle, he was even more dangerous like this, all cleaned up with his curls full and framing his face just right, his smirk making him look more self-assured than most people had any business being. I nearly retreated on instinct. Was he trying to manipulate me? I would sooner die.

Leif stepped away from his conversation to head for me when Beast, juggling an armful of mugs with frothy ale that sloshed over the top, stopped right in front of him. Just as Leif tried to step around him, I saw his eyes shift to the left. Chief Kaid shook her head in disapproval. Worry clouded Leif's eyes as his jaw noticeably stiffened.

Nash nodded at the barrels of ale. "Want to get drunk, Sharpshooter?"

Chief Kaid had turned her gaze to me. She was giving me approval to befriend Nash, showing me she trusted me, needed me. Leif didn't want me to get hurt, but he should have trusted me, like the chief did.

With my focus on Nash again, I hardened my resolve. This man was my enemy and he could try to manipulate me all he wanted. I'd get to him first. "I really do."