There’s no escaping it now—I truly am a traitor. Six will take me back to his captain, and I will tell him everything I know about the fort. But I will do it out of a sense of justice, not malice. It’s not that I want revenge. I don’t. I just want to protect the innocent life that would be destroyed if the Grand General invades Ieli.

Right?

Six tells Orami to take the first watch and a companionable silence settles over the hollow, though I get the distinct impression it does not extend to me. Thare continues to peer through the trees while Redge pokes absently at the fire with a stick. Beside him, Iorin pulls a piece of wood from his pack and begins carving with a small knife.

“How much food do you have left?” Redge asks, setting his stick beside the fire.

“Nothing,” Six says. “The Awnians took my pack. You?”

“Redge ate everything,” Iorin sighs. “Thare?”

“A little bread. I was thinking of going hunting.”

Iorin blows the shavings from his block of wood and drops it into his pocket before picking up his bow. “I can take a hint,” he says, slipping the knife into a small sheath on his boot. “If I’m not back by nightfall, don’t bother looking for me. I’ll be feasting by myself.” He steps around the fire and disappears into the trees, silent as a deer.

“I’m going too,” Thare announces, stalking off into the forest.

Six sighs. “Any more than one will scare the game away.”

“If the fire hasn’t done that already,” Redge says. He stands and kicks at the meager pile of sticks Iorin gathered. “Think I’ll get some more firewood.”

He leaves, and Six and I are alone again. He seems content to sit in silence, staring into the forest with his elbows on his knees, his forehead set against folded fingers. His lips tighten into a hard, thin line, and a muscle in his cheek flexes as he clenches his jaw. After a few moments, he notices my attention and looks at me. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell them?”

He doesn’t ask what I mean. He just looks at me, expression unreadable, and then he shrugs and looks away. “It’s not my secret to tell.”

I feel like I should thank him, but something holds me back. “Last night, someone tried to help you escape. Who was it?”

Six rubs at his wrist as if still feeling the sting of ropes. “I don’t know. In the evening, someone whispered through the door to make my move when the night was darkest, but I didn’t recognize the voice. I waited until dark, and when I tried the door, it was unlocked. When I noticed there was no guard, I was going to try for the tunnel, but someone happened by.”

“Tyrr,” I sigh. “He thought I was the one who unlocked your door.”

“But you weren’t.”

“No.” I draw my knees up to my chest and lean over them. “I may not agree with everything the Awnians did, but I didn’t set out to be a traitor.”

“Why were you even there? If you wanted to be a healer, why not just be a healer? Why be a soldier?”

I set my chin on one knee and look at him without lifting my head. “I was conscripted. We all were.”

Six’s eyes widen. “Conscripted? The Grand General is resorting to conscription to get his men?”

“It doesn’t mean I wanted to betray them.”

“You didn’t betray anyone,” Six says. “You can’t be expected to sit still and let yourself be executed for nothing.”

I hug my knees tighter as the dead face of the honey-haired guard flashes through my mind. “Anything is excusable in times of war. Isn’t that how it goes?”

“There isn’t a war.”

Finally, someone who admits the thing I’ve been saying for weeks, and it’s an enemy soldier. Six smiles at the look on my face and shrugs. “I don’t know that you could call it peace, exactly, not since the Border Skirmishes.”

“That was part of the Coastal War?”

“No, after. Just small attacks on the border cities, but the last real battle was almost a decade ago. There were even rumors that Anvarr Ryvenlock was going to sign a peace treaty, not that it ever went anywhere. Your Grand General Ambritten is willing to go to any length for power, so I doubt peace is on his mind.”

“What do you mean?”

He frowns. “Don’t you know how he came to power?”

“He killed King Anvarr,” I say. I hadn’t thought about the specifics.

“He killed the entire Ryvenlock family,” Six says. “And all the nobles who would not support him. The youngest Ryvenlock princess was only eight years old. Some of the children of the nobility were younger still. He killed them all.”

My stomach churns. “Why? Because King Anvarr wanted peace?”

“I don’t think he wanted peace,” Six says. “The Coastal Wars were started by Awnia, not Ieli. But Ryvenlock couldn’t afford to keep them going, not while paying for the lifestyle his queen wanted. The treaty King Alluxe offered would have granted most of the Border Mountains and the Norvalg province to Ieli. Maybe that’s why Ambritten attacked when he did.”

“He killed so many to keep Ieli from controlling some land? What difference would it have made to the people living there who their king was?”

“It made a difference to Ambritten,” Six says.

I tap my fingers along my knee absently. “There’s a rumor that one of the princes escaped.”

“The words of desperate men hoping for a miracle,” Six says. “Nothing more. The Ryvenlocks are dead.”

Before I can think of a response, Redge steps into the hollow with an armful of wood. “Is Iorin or Thare back yet?”

“Do you see them?” Six says.

“Do you think they’ll be back soon? With an elk maybe?”

“Even you couldn’t eat a whole elk.”

Redge wrinkles his nose and looks at me. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing,” Six answers. His voice is a half sigh, and he runs a restless hand through his hair as he speaks. “I’m worried about the tunnel, that’s all.”

“Why not send Orami to warn Captain Bayal?” Redge suggests. “He could probably get there tonight yet.”

But Six is shaking his head before Redge finishes his words. “I don’t want him out there on his own after dark. Besides, he hasn’t seen the tunnel and Bayal will want to know exactly where it is. It’ll have to wait for morning.”

Redge accepts his decision without argument, stacking the wood in a neat pile and lying down beside it. “Wake me when there’s food,” he says, folding his arms behind his head and closing his eyes.

Six glances at me. “You should get some sleep too.”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

I shake my head. “I’m not tired.”

“Rule number four,” Redge says without opening his eyes. “Rest when you can.”

“Yesterday you said that was rule number two,” Six says.

“Orami said it was two—he doesn’t know anything. Rule number two is ‘Always wear clean boots’.”

“Then take your own advice and rest,” Six says, and Redge falls silent. He looks back to me and gives me the same stern look he’d sent toward Redge, but I stare back, undaunted. Six and I might have been forced to work together to escape the fort, but it doesn’t mean I’m safe with him.

“What will happen to me when we get to your unit?” I ask, my gaze locked with his. “Am I a prisoner?”

Six tilts his head. “No... and yes. You won’t be locked in a guardhouse, but you also won’t have free range of the unit.”

“Your captain will question me,” I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “Like you were questioned.”

“No,” he says firmly. “Not like that. He’ll talk to you, but no one will lay a hand on you. You have my word.”

“How can you speak for your captain?” I ask, searching for a sign that might distinguish his rank. “Are you a tenant?”

From across the hollow, Redge lets out a snort that he tries to turn into a snore. Six ignores him. “I don’t hold any official rank. I’m just a ranger. But Captain Bayal listens to me, as he listens to all his men. And he doesn’t hold with torture.”

I nod, trying to soothe the fear pulsing through me. Chass was only one rank below Oristel and he could do nothing to help me. What can Six do that Chass couldn’t?

As if sensing my disbelief, Six gives me a reassuring smile. “Things are different in Ieli. You’ll see.”

We lapse into silence. Minutes slide into hours, and I have to get up a few times to pace the length of the hollow, unable to stay still for so long. There’s nothing to do—no rocks to load into a wheelbarrow, no herbs to collect, nothing. Redge seems content to nap the time away, but Six alternates between closing his eyes and watching my restless march.

“Sit down,” he says finally. “You’re making me—”

A rustle of footsteps cuts him off, and Iorin steps through the trees with an oruusk slung over one shoulder. He drops the small deer-like creature at the edge of the firelight with a low grunt.

“Good man, Iorin,” Six says, tossing a stick at Redge to wake him. “You always find something.”

Iorin smiles. The setting sun highlights his sharp cheekbones and amber-brown eyes, which focus on the oruusk as he pulls out a knife. Soon there will be only the light of the fire, and preparing a deer for cooking with no light is messy work.

Redge sits up and grins at the oruusk. “Ah, thank you. But where’s yours?”

“You can’t have any. Go find your own.”

“I’ve found it,” Redge answers, crouching beside the body and tying back his long hair with a strip of cord. “Do you want the help or not?”

They work efficiently, and by the time it’s dark they’ve nearly completed quartering the meat. I move over by Six, watching them appreciatively. “Should I dig a pit?” I ask. He gives me a surprised look, so I add, “For smoking the meat?”

“I’ve never done it that way.”

I shrug, and he waves toward the fire. “By all means, educate us.”

While Redge and Iorin prepare the venison, I use a long, flat rock to dig a pit beside the fire. I make it as even as possible, digging down about a foot, and then use the wood Redge collected earlier to build a square of logs at the bottom. Once I’ve got them stacked a few layers high, I fill the center with pinecones and twigs before lighting them with a branch from the fire.

By the time I’m finished, Iorin and Redge have most of the meat ready. I lay five long sticks across the opening of my pit and Iorin drapes chunks of meat over them to cook.

“Not bad,” he says, smiling. “Do you cook often?”

I nod. Iorin looks over his shoulder at Redge, who is gathering the skin and bones of the oruusk together to bury outside of camp. “Brennr says he can cook.”

“Nobody in this company knows anything about cooking,” Redge calls back. “The meat is either raw or burned and always tastes like ash.”

“I haven’t got any seasonings,” I say.

“Seasonings are wasted on them,” Iorin tells me. “They couldn’t taste the difference between thyme and turmeric.”

“Excuse us for not all having refined Elni palates,” Redge says, rolling his eyes at me. “He studies there a few years and forgets how the rest of the world operates.”

“15 years.”

Redge bows to acknowledge the correction.

15 years in Elni, the Ielic capital city. I want to ask what he was studying—and why he left—but Iorin finishes laying the meat over the sticks and wipes his hands clean in the snow. “How long will it take?” he asks.

Six cracks his fingers. “Long enough. Go relieve Orami. We’ll bring you some food when it’s done.”

A few moments after Iorin wanders out of sight, Orami steps into the dimmed circle of firelight and sniffs the air. “Is Six cooking?”

“No,” Six answers. “Brennr is.”

“Thank the Pathkeeper.” Orami drops beside the fire and sighs. “The last time you cooked, I was sick for days.”

Redge snickers from outside the hollow. “You weren’t the only one.”

“I have other talents,” Six huffs.

“Like in getting captured,” Thare says, stalking into camp with a rabbit in each hand. “What did Iorin find?”

“Oruusk,” Six answers. “Cut those up, we’ll smoke whatever’s left after dinner.”

I settle in to watch the meat, my restlessness fading now that I have something to focus on. Thare goes out to replace Iorin on watch, and I try not to feel envious of how the others chatter amiably, teasing and joking while I sit at the edge of the fire, an intruder on their companionship.

“Hey,” Orami says. I listen with my eyes on my smoke pit, but he clears his throat and adds, “Brennr?”

I look up, surprised. “You’re a healer, right?” Orami goes on. At my hesitant nod, he grins and reaches for his glove. “Great. Can you take a look at this? I cut my hand a few days ago, but it’s not getting any better. Iorin thinks it might be getting infected.”

He holds out his hand, but Redge knocks it down and shoots an apologetic glance at me. “Sorry, but—Orami, this is an enemy soldier. We don’t know if we can trust him.”

“Of course we can trust him,” Orami says. “He saved Six.”

“To save himself,” Redge says.

I look back at the pit. He’s not wrong, but his words rankle. I poke at a strip of half-cooked meat and clench my jaw to keep my mouth closed.

“And he’s a healer,” Orami says, undeterred. “A healer would never hurt anyone asking for help, even if it’s an enemy.”

Redge snorts. “Tell that to Somre. He threatened to cut off my leg last winter.”

“That’s because it was infected,” Iorin puts in. “It would have killed you.”

“And he ended up curing it anyway,” Orami adds.

“It was still a threat,” Redge says.

“Well I trust him,” Orami says, standing and moving deliberately toward me. “If you don’t mind, Brennr. You don’t have to.”

With a glance at Redge, I shift to make room beside my smoke pit. “I don’t have any supplies.”

“Somre will help when we get back the unit,” Orami says. “But I’d feel better if someone who knows what to look for takes a look at it.”

He holds out his hand. A small cut splits the skin on his palm, and I lean closer to inspect the clearly inflamed wound. He crouches next to me, wincing when I gently prod the skin. “It is infected, isn’t it?”

“An infection might be starting,” I say, turning his hand toward the light. “But it isn’t bad yet. You should have it covered.”

“But it’ll keep until tomorrow?” Orami asks.

I nod. If I had Edlan’s bag, I might have been able to scrape a fingernail of salve from the empty container—it wouldn’t take much, just something to keep the wound clean until it can be properly treated. At the very least, I still had a few bandages left. Now there’s nothing but—

I reach into my jacket pocket and exhale when I find the dried moss from my monthly bleeding supplies. “Here,” I say, pulling out a small piece and pressing it into the cut. “This will help draw out the infection. It will still need to be cleaned, but this will keep it from getting worse.”

“You said you didn’t have any supplies,” Orami says.

“I usually keep a little extra in my pockets,” I say, taking his glove and sliding it carefully over his hand. “Try to keep the moss in place.”

Orami flexes his hand, grinning. “Amazing! It already feels better!”

His exaggeration pulls a smile to my lips, and I settle back, feeling a little less ostracized. I even catch Iorin’s smile as Orami returns to the fire. He blows on his carving, which he’d taken out again once he’d finished eating. When he notices my attention, he holds it up so I can see the outstretched wings of his wooden raven.

“An offering for the Pathkeeper,” he says, tucking it into a crook in the tree he’s leaning against. “For guiding Six back to us.”

A pang of homesickness makes me look away. My worship has always been a blend of styles absorbed through my different heritages. Awnians tend to focus their adoration on Ieldran, the creator of the world, who gives wisdom and power to his children. Saani embrace the persona of the Phoenix, the role Ieldran took to save humanity, and appeal to his great love and protection. Though Papa's time in the Coastal Wars introduced him to Awnian habits, he never forgot his Saani roots, and he introduced them both to Aze and me when we were young.

But it was Mama who taught us to worship like an Ielic. Ieldran's third form, the Pathkeeper, is revered in Ieli for his guidance. It is the Pathkeeper who welcomes home all departed souls, and the Pathkeeper who brings the lost back to safety. I've never seen anyone but Mama offer him a gift, and my eyes sting at the old memories.

Pathkeeper, guide me back to them someday.

When the meat is finished, Six tells me to choose my portion before he passes out the rest to the rangers. “The cook eats first,” he says, but the others wait for me to take my first bite before tearing into their own. As if I’d had a chance to poison it with them all sitting there and watching me.

Together they eat most of the oruusk, but a few strips remain along with Thare’s rabbits. I rearrange the meat in my smoke pit so it can cure overnight, then lean back against a tree trunk and try not to feel annoyed when Six leaves me out of the watch schedule. I don’t want to stand watch, especially since I’ll have to sleep with one eye open in case one of the rangers decides to act on their distrust. But it would be nice to not have their every action scream you’re an outsider—you’re the enemy.

But I suppose I am. Or they are. I’m not sure how to look at it, but the result is the same. I’m alone, friendless, and farther from home than I’ve ever been.

“We’ll leave at dawn,” Six tells me, ignorant of my personal crisis. I don’t answer. All I can do is curl up against my tree trunk as the others settle in for sleep. I stare into the fire, knowing it will ruin my night vision but unable to look away. The heat and smoke burns my eyes, urging them closed, warding off my efforts to keep watch over the rangers.

I fall asleep to the sound of quiet breathing, and I dream about running from the men who used to be my neighbors.