We make our way back toward the city gate. I am eager to finally put this place behind me. Syndel walks with her head bowed. “I might truly be the last now,” she says quietly.

I frown, wishing I could think of something comforting to say. “You shouldn't give up hope.”

She looks up at me, her eyes shining. “I know. My village probably wasn't the only one that was attacked. Other Sikari could have escaped. I just wish I knew for certain.”

Her hands are cupped together. Between her palms is a faint orb of crackling green light. I wonder if she even realizes it's there. I turn my gaze to the city around us. Who would know better about the fate of the Sikari than those who did the attacking? If we returned to the stronghold, I'm certain with all the chaos happening there I could easily find a Noble-lord or two and pose the question to them. Depending on their cooperation, I might not even have to resort to violence. “Syndel, what if we—”

I stop as I realize Syndel and Hetty are no longer beside me. Turning, I find them back a few paces. Syndel's face is pale, her eyes wide as they stare at something across the street. I follow her gaze to a group of three Noble-lords speaking to people among the hordes with carts and carriages now clambering to get out of the city. The panic from the stronghold has made its way to the streets and Noble-lords are trying to find answers. I had hoped to avoid this. The men give me no qualms—our disguises should afford us safe passage—yet Syndel is clearly unsettled.

“Do you know them?” I ask, moving back to her side.

He is one of my captors, she says to my mind, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. The tall one with the gray beard. Thremas. I don't know how he survived the attack in the east. She turns her head, her eyes locking onto mine. He must be one of the Noble-lords who's been on our trail.

A loud voice cuts through our silent conversation.

“All wagons to one side and those on foot to the other.”

It takes a moment for the crowd to adjust. I consider our options. We could move away from the gate and try to find the secret route out of the city back to the swamp, but something tells me that exit is being watched. Perhaps if we move forward, blending in with the masses, we can slip by Thremas unnoticed. I share this idea with Syndel. After a moment, she agrees, taking her eyes off the man who had enslaved her.

We make it to the shorter line, which is now moving more quickly. It's then that I realize there are more Noble-lords at the gate, inspecting all who pass by. I look to Syndel, but she merely nods and continues moving up the line. Only four people are between us and the Noble-lord inspectors. My jaw tightens. I will make Syndel flee on Hetty if something goes wrong.

Three people.

I will likely be subdued, but not before I give her a chance to escape. Then what? I have no idea if Syndel can face and defeat Mulogo alone, even with her new magic.

Two people.

I lean close to Hetty. “Get ready to run with Syndel,” I whisper. “Don't stop until you are miles away.”

The mare grunts, her head bobbing up and down.

One person.

I take a deep breath and step forward.

“Open your bags,” the Noble-lord says, his tone conveying his boredom. His gaze shifts to Syndel for a moment before returning to me.

I oblige, showing him the contents of each bag. He seems satisfied until he looks at me again. A frown pulls on his features. “I've seen you before. Weren't you with a Mid-lord up at the stronghold yesterday? Where is he now?”

“You must be mistaken,” I say, moving forward, silently cursing Garreg for claiming no one would look at a servant. The Noble-lord throws out an arm to stop me.

“No mistake,” he says and then, looking past me, gestures to someone behind us. “I may have a problem up here.”

Moments later Thremas himself approaches. From the corner of my eye, I see Syndel flinch.

“What's the problem?” Thremas asks, glaring at each of us.

“This man was at the stronghold,” the other Noble-lord says. “I think he needs to be questioned further.”

Thremas faces me. “Is this true? Do you have information about what has taken place here?”

I look directly into the eyes of Syndel's captor. “No. We were visiting family and now we're returning home. Nothing more.”

“And where is home?” asks Thremas, looking skeptical.

I flounder for a moment, trying to recall the name of the town where I got Syndel's doll.

“Lokir,” Syndel says behind me.

Thremas looks at her again, his eyes narrowing. I hold my breath as he takes a step past me. Syndel stands there calmly, her gaze fixed on the man's face as if daring him to recognize her.

“You're from Lokir?” he asks slowly. “I was there once, about twelve years ago.”

The air around us suddenly crackles as green light gathers in Syndel's hands. I stare at her, wondering what she's doing. Thremas takes a step back. The other Noble-lords at the gate turn to look at the commotion.

“So was I,” Syndel says, her aura blazing. The green light explodes, knocking everyone to the ground, including me. I hear people screaming in fear. Dust stings my eyes as I scramble back to my feet. I leap to Syndel's side, grabbing her arm.

“We must go,” I urge, but she doesn't move.

Trembling, she stares down at the man who ruined her life. The man who had a hand in the murder of her family and enslaved her for twelve years. She has every right to hate him.

“Syndel,” Thremas says, his eyes wide. Blood drips from his nose. “How you've changed, my dear. I've been searching for you since the Soulless attacked us. I was the only other survivor. When I was summoned home to deal with this chaos I never thought I'd find you here as well.”

“Don't speak to me as if you care,” she says, her face taut with fury. “I cannot count the number of times you put my life in danger.”

The Noble-lord shakes his head, raising a hand to her. “But we succeeded in capturing countless abominations because of your gifts. I never would have let any real harm come to you.”

Syndel laughs. “What about the times I was starved and beaten, oftentimes at your command? You're a monster, worse than the Soulless you dedicated your life to hunting. I should—”

Another rush of crackling air comes, but this time it's not from Syndel. Four other Noble-lords have joined us, their hands outstretched, glowing with energy. We're surrounded. My muscles tense, ready to spring into action. The Noble-lords don't know what I am. Surprise will be my ally.

Syndel closes her eyes, her arms moving in swirls and twists in front of her. The energy from the men suddenly dart from their hands to Syndel and enter her body. More flashes of light come from all directions, including from Thremas and the other Noble-lords at the gate, each one flying directly to Syndel. She inhales deeply and then opens her eyes. Startled, the Noble-lords try gathering more energy, but nothing happens.

“My powers . . .?” one of them whispers, looking down at his empty hands. They all look at each other with wide eyes.

“The might of the Noble-lords is no more,” Syndel says calmly.

Thremas scrambles to his feet, his face red. “What have you done?” His arms move wildly, his face contorts in concentration, but he merely looks like a fool. Breathing heavily, he turns his gaze to Syndel. “You've stolen our magic!”

Syndel's aura flares again. “Your magic?” she thunders, her voice deep with the fury of a thousand dead Sikari. A fierce wind whips at us, shrieking and stinging. Dark clouds gather overhead with streaks of lightning in their wake. More screams echo from the crowd as they push each other in an effort to get away. Syndel's body seems to grow, towering over us all. “I took back what was stolen from us!” Energy pulsates through the air, flashing red to match her anger. The Noble-lords cower before her.

I, too, am afraid, but not for myself. As much as she hates these men, she would despise herself even more if she took their lives. It would destroy her as well. I reach out to her, grasping her shoulders and turning her to face me. The energy burns my arms and hands. “Syndel,” I shout over the tumult, “no more, please!”

Her expression slowly relaxes as her eyes focus on mine. The energy fades. Syndel's head falls forward against my chest. Gathering her in my arms, I lift her to Hetty's saddle. I turn back to Thremas, lifting the pendant and its chain over my head. I immediately feel the difference.

“Do you know what I am?” I ask quietly.

Thremas' eyes widen as he nods.

“Good. Then you know if my next question is not answered to my satisfaction, you will regret it. Is Syndel the last?”

He blinks at me as if he wants to look away but is unable to. “Yes.”

Though I do not like his answer, I believe it is the truth. Leaning closer, enjoying his tremors of fear, I whisper, “I once promised myself that I would punish the people responsible for hurting Syndel. Though you are not worth the effort, now that you're broken and helpless, remember that I now know who you are.” Turning on my heel, I slip the chain back over my head and urge Hetty through the gate without looking back. I hope to never come to this city again.