The morning of my eagerly awaited sixteenth birthday dawned bright and clear. The snowfall had stopped, and outside the ground was a glistening wash of white.

My breath misted out of my mouth in a soft cloud, and I watched it until it disappeared, then climbed out of bed and dressed. I had never enjoyed bundling up in layers and layers of thick clothing, especially while inside the house. But if the alternative was freezing to death, I supposed I could bear with it.

The kitchen table was a welcome sight. There was something extremely satisfying about getting out of bed and finding your breakfast sitting out and ready to eat.

Hot oatmeal, baked potatoes, and, sitting right in the middle of the table, leaking honey and cream was a beautiful, fat, cream cake.

I stared at it, barely resisting the urge to drool while both my parents smiled at me.

“Happy birthday, my love.” My mother pulled me into a warm embrace. She smelled of flour and honey. I knew she had stayed up all night to make the cream cake for me.

My father patted my head affectionately. “Happy Birthday, Judeth.”

I grinned at them, too happy to speak.

The rich meal was heaven after months of rationing. With thick cream on my tongue and honey dripping down my lip, I thought that if I were to die that moment, I would not mind. I was happy. And if one must die, they may as well die with a smile on their face and food in their belly.

A familiar warmth spread throughout my body. The same warmth I felt every year on my birthday. The warmth of knowing that I was loved, and once upon a time, this day was the happiest day of my parent’s life. It was the sort of warmth that you know will not last, so you hold on to every bit of it; savoring that rosy sensation like sweet cake on your tongue. It did not act as a barricade to the terrible things that were happening, but as a veil to hide them from me for a time.

“As you know, Judeth, money isn’t in abundance in this time.” My parents exchanged a glance before my father continued. “We wanted very much to give you something special for your birthday, but because of the current circumstances, we were unable to do so.”

The worry on their faces was clear as the snow outside. I arranged a carefree smile, being sure to say the simple, forgiving answer: “Oh, that’s all right,” in an unmistakably cheerful voice. It was alright really. I knew the circumstances, and I also knew that I was now sixteen; nearly a woman and women didn’t need to concern themselves with frivolous and unnecessary things like birthday gifts.

All the same, as I turned my attention back to my breakfast, I couldn’t help the small, grey tendrils of disappointment that wormed their way into my heart.

“That being said,” my father added quickly. “We have decided that it will be alright if you venture out into the town today.”

I looked up. “Really?”

“Well, you won’t be by yourself. James will be with you of course.”

It was a far cry from a new dress or a pretty ring, but the thought of going out alone with James where everyone could see us was thrilling.

“Well, that would be very nice,” I said, hiding my grin in my bowl.

“I’ll admit I didn’t agree to it easily,” my father said grudgingly. “However, things have quieted down some. No one has been killed or arrested in the last three days, and James is a good lad, I trust him in taking care of you. Besides, I am very proud that you have respected my wishes and have not tried to leave the house.”

My mother and I shared a glance. She shook her head, barely perceptible, but I knew what she wanted to say.

Don’t tell him.

So, I just smiled and thanked them both. But guilt now lay heavily on my conscience, and by the troubled look on my mother’s face, she too felt her heart burdened by our actions.

James arrived soon after, and my parents accompanied us both to the door, my mother piling yet more layers of clothing upon my body, my father adding a bounty of concerns and worries on my mind. I was not to meet any Radkkan eyes. I was not

After assuring them both firmly that he would get me home far before dark, James took my hand and led me outside into the cold.

I could hardly see over the many scarves my mother had wound around my face, hoping to keep out the cold air, and soon became frustrated by the impairment of my vision and how I must look, wrestling with James watched me out of the corner of his eye. I couldn’t be sure of course, seeing as I wasn’t looking at him directly, but I got the none too subtle sense that he was laughing at me, silently, as I battled with the irritating cloth that seemed to refuse to leave my skin.

I won. And it was with some satisfaction that I tore two of the scarves from my neck.

“Where do you plan on taking me?” I asked loftily.

“I thought you might like to come and take a look at the ocean,” James answered me. His brown eyes sparkled with an amused and affectionate light and knew I would not stay annoyed with him.

“I suppose I would like that.”

I stared at our surroundings as we walked, doing my best to take in as much as I could whilst still managing not to trip over my own feet. Snow always had the unique effect of changing a place. What was once bare wood and stone was a thick coat of white like cakes dusted with sugar. But no matter how it all looked on the surface, one would always know without a doubt that what one was looking at was indeed their town, and under the snow, it was the same as it had always been.

Now I was met with an unsettling feeling of unfamiliarity.

A change had happened; great change, while I had not been there to see it, and now it struck me like a blow.

Like when a distant relative visited you for the first time in years and remarked fretfully on how much you had grown, while they who lived with you couldn’t find such a great difference to remark on. They had lived with that change and changed with it.

Smoke still coiled out of the chimney pots, shops were still open for business and people still walked the streets, but it differed from before. No one stopped to gossip when met with an acquaintance. The few children who ran up to the baker’s door to whine for sweets were hurriedly gathered and scolded. Faces were drawn and tight, smiles were few and far between, and black painted faces were many.

“Look at all the mourners,” James whispered to me, clasping my hand tighter.

“How many people have been killed?” I whispered back, my eyes following a young woman as she walked past, her eyes lined with charcoal.

“I don’t know the exact numbers. Some are killed and we don’t even know it. Twenty so far, I think.”

“Twenty?” I gasped. “In under a fortnight?”

“Are you really that surprised Judeth? Don’t you remember when the well was poisoned? Almost a hundred people were killed before it was found out.”

“That was different,” I argued. “We couldn’t have helped that. It wasn’t murder.”

He didn’t answer and seemed to lose himself in his thoughts.

“How many of the dead were people we knew?” I asked.

James shook himself and began counting on his fingers. “Well, Sye and his eldest son. Fera Suoth apparently got into a fight with one of the Radkkans. Kob and Gummer . . . no one knows what happened to them. And Tahia Cea, so that makes six.”

I knew Horther Sye and his family because he was the only farmer in Saje who could grow a respectfully sized potato.

Fera Suoth was the tall, blond, broad-backed daughter of a livestock breeder. Countless men had tried to pursue her, not as my mother told me, because she was especially beautiful or talented, but because everyone who knew her also knew without a doubt that she could break their skulls open with one hand. Why anyone would want to pursue a woman for a reason like that was beyond me, but there it was. Men were mysterious creatures.

Kob and Gummer were the twin sons of whom nobody knew who. They were both tall, with thick heads of sandy hair and matching lopsided smiles. The only noticeable difference between the two boys was a thin white scar that ran from the tip of Gummer’s ear to the corner of his mouth. I felt my heart squeeze with an unexpected twinge of remorse as I remembered walking by the twins, standing side by side in the rain, some months ago, fingers wound tightly together to give each other the warmth they lacked. Wherever Gummer went, Kob followed. It wouldn’t be right for one to be without the other, even in death.

At the mention of Tahia Cea, however, I stopped walking.

“What happened to her?” I asked.

“Well, I suppose she broke curfew. She was found by her aunt a few days ago, dead inside a hay barn. Her throat was slit and—” James paused, as though unsure whether he should continue. “She was raped,” he said carefully.

I looked up at him, alarmed. “What?”

“I don’t know what happened. But there’s word going around that she started selling herself after her parents died. Maybe she was having a dalliance and was found out?”

I was silent.

Tahia Cea’s situation was the one everyone liked to talk about, no matter how many years passed. She was born with an abnormality. The town’s only six-fingered girl.

The diagnosis for this ailment was that someone in her family had been a witch, and because of this, she had been cursed. Her birth mother was horrified and quickly left the town; her father followed soon after. Tahia was left with an aunt. When she was six years old, a family was generous and took her in. Within months of this, the entire family including a mother, a father, four children, and a hound were killed in a terrible fire.

Tahia went back to her aunt’s home and rumors spread like an open flame about what had happened. It was unanimously decided — by everyone whose opinions mattered — that not only did she come from a family of witches, but she must be one herself, and she had cast an evil spell on her new family.

Even when it was discovered that a distant and spiteful cousin of the family was responsible for their untimely demise, the idea stuck. Tahia was branded a witch for life, and the only thing that spared her from the stake was pity.

That wasn’t to say that everyone pitied her, for most did not bother themselves with finding sympathy for a mutated witch girl. But some did, and the rest didn’t want to seem cruel, and that was enough to save her life.

Finally, she was taken in again, this time by a very old couple who couldn’t have any children themselves, and for many years, things went well.

Then two years ago, her adopted father died from an ailment of the heart and a few months later; the mother followed.

Being a good six years younger than her, I had never had much of an occasion to speak with Tahia directly, nor did I have a reason to. It wasn’t that I disliked her, or that I thought she was a witch, but there was a subtle hint of fear I felt. A fear everyone had of her.

After the village physician moved away, Tahia began visiting my mother for a simple remedy of pain relief; for aching bones, as she said.

It was my mother’s way not to turn from anyone in need, and so she welcomed Tahia as warmly as she did any other patient, and taught me to do the same.

Men began to grow attracted to her when she turned eighteen, despite the rumor. Or maybe it was because of it. Danger was an untameable seductress.

“Don’t let it get you down, Judeth,” James spoke from beside me as we resumed walking again. “It’s normal to feel guilty in situations like these. We can’t do anything about them now.”

“I do feel guilty,” I said. “I feel terrible knowing that some of those people lived out most of their lives being unloved and uncared for and that I didn’t think to try to change that while it would make a difference. But that isn’t what’s bothering me.”

“What is bothering you, then?”

“Don’t know exactly.”

“Judeth.” James rolled his eyes. “You’re not so simple as to make me unable to understand you. Try to explain it.”

I breathed out a puff of air. “Well, I suppose it’s that I know I could go just as easily as any of them, and I doubt anyone around here would even notice. I don’t want to be like those who have died already, who people will talk about but not miss. I don’t want to be like that.”

James’s grip on my hand tightened further still, and I saw his face draw into a stiff frown. “Don’t say things like that, Judeth,” he said. “I don’t like it. You won’t die.”

“If I did, would you miss me?" It was a silly question, but one I felt like asking, anyway.

“Course’ I’d miss you, Judeth. Don’t be an ass. I’d miss you so much I might decide to drown myself.”

“Why?”

We had reached the beach before I had even realized it. The waves were a cold steel grey, and they rose like a wall before crashing down on the sand and the rocks, only to suck them back in with them.

Why?

It was a question that foreshadowed another, much more important question that I could never bring myself to ask. Something that plagued both my heart and mind with an equal burden.

James looked at me, and I could feel that he knew the question I wouldn’t dare ask. But his eyes were teasing. If I could not ask the question, he would not give me the answer.

“James,” I began.

“Oh, look! I think I just saw a fish jump out of the water!”

“James!” I slapped his arm roughly to bring his attention back to myself. “James, why me?”

“Why you what?”

I glared at him. “Why do you love me? I’ve admired you since I was a child, but I can’t think of a single reason why you would find me the sort you like. There is a reason, isn’t there?”

The teasing glimmer had disappeared from his eyes, and he regarded me thoughtfully in all seriousness.

“Yes, there’s a reason.”

“Yes?”

He patted my bottom affectionately. “You’re pretty and sweet.”

“An important one?” I pressed, shoving his hand away.

"What could be more important than that?"

"James," I growled.

"Fine. Yes. Yes of course."

“What is it?”

“I won’t tell you now.”

“When will you tell me?”

“Soon.”

“When is soon?”

He grabbed my other hand and gripped it. I didn't shake it from him. “Soon when we’re both sailing away to Seaggis. When Saje is just out of sight. Then I’ll tell you.” He let my hand go, and I allowed it to drop to my side.

“Will we, though?” I asked. “Will we still be able to leave, what with everything that has happened? We can’t leave in the daylight, and we certainly can’t leave in the night without risking being killed.”

“I’m making a plan,” he told me dismissively. “It’s already in motion. I won’t tell you what it is, but I can promise that we won’t be walking blind.”

“Very well.” I gave in. “But don’t go doing anything that will get you killed.”

He laughed then, as though the mere mention of such a thing was completely ridiculous. As though it was silly of me to even consider the thought of him getting into trouble. Death for James, we both thought, was as unlikely as the sky falling on our heads.

There was a story we were all told when we were children about a boy; a shepherd. He had such excellent luck that none of his sheep were lost or eaten, and their skins sold for gold in the big cities. One day, standing in front of a large crowd, he announced that the gods themselves had blessed him.

‘And if I speak a lie, let the impossible be possible and have the sky fall on my head!’ he had called.

At that very moment, a burning piece of rock dropped from the expanse of blue above them and split his skull, leaving him dead on the street.

Whether or not it was a true tale, I knew what was being said.

Do not suppose that you know what can happen, and what can’t. Expect the unexpected and do not live above fate.

Once again at home, my mother pulled me into a relieved embrace and asked that I boil some water for tea. I agreed and took off my cloak, running to fill the kettle while James lingered just inside the doorway to speak to my parents. It felt strange; not because his speaking to them was unusual, but there was something about the way they were gathered, huddled together, and whispering like they were sharing some great secret. A secret, I knew without asking, would not be shared with me.

“—into a full-scale occupation. If only the King of T’cor would fight back, we might actually have a chance.” I recognized James’s voice, lowered and bitter.

“As soon as the King makes a move, then his people shall be at war, and the result will be devastating. I believe he wishes to avoid that,” my father said solemnly.

“By sitting on his throne and watching as our entire continent is taken over? To watch as Sunah becomes Radkka?” The fervor in James’s voice was startling.

“What are you talking about?” I couldn’t bear it any longer and quickly drew attention to my presence. They drew apart. My mother smiled at me while neither my father nor James could meet my eyes.

“You mustn’t worry about it, Judeth. It does not concern you. Did you enjoy your walk about town? Hopefully, you didn’t run into any unpleasantness?” She was changing the subject like she always did whenever I was asking too many questions about something that she didn’t wish to tell me about.

“It was very refreshing, thank you,” I answered her shortly. “And no, we didn’t run into anyone from Radkka if that’s what you were truly asking. But I have learned of the killings of several of our neighbors, which is leading me to this question. Mother, what is really happening? Why do I feel as though I am the only one who knows nothing of it?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Judeth. Truly, I am if you’re feeling that way. There is a war, and in a war, there are many things you are not ready to learn of.”

“When shall I be?” I asked. “When Saje is flooded with people from Radkka? When we can hardly stick our noses out of our doors without being killed? Shall I be ready to know then?”

My mother’s reply was cut short as a loud pounding at the door interrupted our conversation. Standing on the doorstep was a young man. I recognized him as one of the many boys who frequented James’s company. He was bent over, gasping for breath.

“I was told,” he wheezed, “that you would be here. James—James, you must come quickly—your father—"

James’s body went rigid. “What about my father?” he demanded, his voice high-pitched and terror laced.

“He was arrested—Didn’t see what happened, but your mother is hysterical, she said to fetch you as soon as possible—"

“Is he alive?” James hissed, grabbing his friend’s shoulders, and forcing him upright. “Tell me, is he alive?”

“Yes, yes, they haven’t killed him, they’re only holding him, but—"

James didn’t wait to hear the rest. He didn’t wait for anything before he ran out the door, and I, following a sudden and unexplainable urge, ran out after him.

“Judeth, wait!”

I ignored my father’s shout and continued to run, not caring that I had left my cloak inside. Not caring that the cold winter air stung my face and gritted across my skin.

James was much faster than me. By the time I caught up with him in the middle of the town, I had to fight my way past a crowd of people, all gathered in a tight group, watching.

I pushed and shoved my way to the front, and then gasped out loud in horror as I saw James on the ground with a Radkkan soldier, a long, thin knife held in his hand.

They twisted and fought over the blade, blind to the rest of us. They snarled and hissed like wild animals, fighting mindlessly for dominance, until James twisted his arm out of the Radkkan’s grip and buried the blade in his shoulder. The man let out a pained yowl and slammed his head down. I heard the crack as bone connected with bone, and James lay sprawled on the snow, unmoving.

The Radkkan's blue eyes glittered with pain and murderous intent that at first, I thought only I saw. I was the only one who screamed when he wrenched the knife out of his flesh, but then he was knocked to the ground by a vicious punch thrown by another young man who had pushed his way out of the crowd.

Then there were more. Up to six other men joined the fray, uncertain at first, and then impassioned. There was a feeling of unity and satisfaction that touched everyone, even those who stood watching.

For far too long, the town had been holding its breath, and now it had taken a new one.

At last—At last, we had begun to move. At last, we weren’t simply standing still. At last, we had begun to fight back.

But then there were Radkkans. They plowed through the crowd, pushing aside anyone who tried to stand in their way to the fight, and fell in. It was over in less time than it began.

There was silence in the town except for the sound of fists hitting flesh and the cracking of bone.

None of us could do anything. We could only watch as each of the eight men, our friends, and neighbors, were pummeled, beaten, and constrained. When at last the Radkkans pulled away, they were all holding captive a man, and two lifted up their unconscious comrade.

“These men,” one of them yelled at us, standing silent and stunned in the face of such cowardly violence. Fifteen against seven was not a fair fight on any terms. “These men have committed the crime of assaulting a citizen of Radkka! They are now under arrest and face execution, as is the fate, or worse that shall befall any of you; man, woman, or child who commits such a sin. And you—"

He unsheathed his sword from his back and swung it to point condemningly at James, who, conscious again, was on his knees, arms bent behind his back and held in place by three Radkkans. His jaw was blooming with wretched color and a laceration oozed thick, red blood along his shoulder.

“You, Jameson Johan, son of Kobe, are sentenced to trial before the Senate Seven, where you shall be at the mercy of the Lord of Radkka, on charge of conspiracy.”

“No!” I heard my voice cry out before I even had time to register what was happening. I dove forward but hands held me back, refusing to relent to my struggles. This wasn’t right. He couldn’t be taken away. Not now. Not when we were on the cusp of our future together.

James met my terrified eyes only once as he was pulled to his feet and shoved forward, and they were stranger’s eyes.

Where I could once see full worlds of what he wished to tell me, and what he could not, I saw only one thing.

Guilt.

As he was led past me, he mouthed wordlessly, “Forgive me.”

For what?

I never bothered to wonder at the time.

Did he ask my forgiveness for letting his anger get the better of him? For ruining any chance of our happiness together, forever? Or did he want it for his deceiving me? For keeping a secret when I kept none? A secret that got him into more trouble than anyone might have imagined. Perhaps both?

It didn’t matter.

Asking for forgiveness did not change the fact that he was taken from me, from his mother, from his home, and from the world he lived in.

He was taken and loaded into a wagon with the others, and then he was gone.

He was gone.

I didn’t know how long I stood there in shock. I didn’t remember my parents speaking to me gently and leading me home. I didn’t much remember the happenings of the evening either, while Hanai sat in front of our fire, white-faced and trembling; oblivious to Mother’s soothing hands on her shoulders. I didn’t really remember my father telling me that Kobe had been let go, and had gone to offer money for his son’s release and that we must still have hope. I didn’t even remember my mother embracing me and telling me she was sure it would all be alright; that the Radkkans were greedy for money, and that if need be, many people in the town would be willing to offer their own coin in return for James if Kobe’s offer was too small an incentive.

But I did remember, with frightening clarity, the heavy, uneven footfalls; the frenzied pounding for the second time that day on our door; Hanai’s sister standing on the doorstep; the tears falling down her cheeks, and of course, I remembered her words. We all did. The words were the only thing heard in the sudden silence.

“They’re dead!” she sobbed. “They’re all dead! Every single one of them!”

Hanai shot up from her stool, her hand gripping the mantel for balance as her legs quivered beneath her.

“Not my son,” she said. “He was sentenced to face trial in Radkka. He is not—He cannot be—”

The weeping woman sank to the floor, her shoulders shaking violently as she cried. “There are eight bodies, sister.”

Hanai’s face drained of its remaining color. Her whole body went limp, and then she collapsed. My mother caught a gasp in her hand. My father swore.

I did none of this. I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe. A sensation of wrongness paralyzed my body. This was impossible. James couldn’t die. I’d lived knowing he was unbeatable as long as I’d known his name. Death and James were two words that were never meant to connect to each other. I was stuck inside of a nightmare. This was when it would end. I would wake up in bed, and then realize that it was, terrible as it had been, just a nightmare.

But this time the sick feeling in my stomach stayed.

It was a nightmare, but I knew I would not wake up.

Afterward, it was just a blur. Somehow, we had been granted permission to stand in silent prayer outside. I didn’t know who had been brave enough to make such a demand, or how much money had been put on offer, and I didn’t care. I couldn’t bring myself to care about anything.

I dressed in my black cloak. My eyes were lined with charcoal, and a single, long, pale candle was held lit in my hands as I stood with everyone else on the shore of the ocean.

I did not mind the hot candle wax that dripped onto my skin. I could hardly feel it. I could only watch silently, as a wagon pulled up, and five Radkkans loaded the bodies into a boat, while six more watched us, to make sure we weren’t planning an attack.

I wanted to. I wanted to fly into a righteous rage and carve my pain on their flesh, but I couldn’t. Everything was gone from my body, washed away in a flood of grief and shock that was stuck behind my eyes.

The corpses were wrapped in rough brown cloth so that we could not see their faces. I would never know which one was James. Hanai’s haunting, heart-wrenching cry sent shivers up my spine as the boat was rowed out onto the ocean. Even the rush of the waves could not disguise the sound of the men being thrown overboard; the heavy slap as they hit the water, and then the unnatural silence as they went down. They sank like the rocks which I knew had been stuffed inside their stomachs, to imprison them at the bottom of the ocean, so we could never have them. So they were truly taken from us, mind, soul, and body.

One of those bodies is James, I thought. I still couldn’t believe it.

“We warned him, you know.” I looked to my mother who was standing by my side, soft tears dripping down her face. She didn’t move to stem them, almost as if she didn’t even realize they were there.

“We warned him not to get involved with the rebellion. It was too dangerous. But he insisted.”

I listened wordlessly to her voice as I watched the last of the corpses being pushed out of the boat.

So, James had been part of something bigger.

This angered me, for some reason.

“There was so much none of us ever told you Judeth, but please believe me when I say that it was for your safety. “

“I know,” I spoke for the first time in hours, and my voice was hoarse and cracked. I did know it now. Knowing and being a part of this secret had gotten him killed. If I had known, maybe I would have been too.

Somehow, it all made sense then. The Radkkans had suspected that there were people in our town who were involved in a rebellion, and of course, they suspected James above them all. James, who was looked up to by children and adults alike. James, whose smile was so charming it could almost, almost convince the world there wasn’t a lion inside his heart, roaring.

Almost.

The fight was a trap set to see which men were angry enough to defy the superior authority that had been placed over them.

And it had worked.

James. I let out a breathless sob. James, why did you have to be so stupid?

“James knew that if he told you what he had gotten into, you would try to help him, and none of us could have that. We didn’t do it to keep secrets from you, we did it because we love you. We all love you. Me, your father, and James. We all love you so much.”

“Loved,” I corrected. “He’s dead now. He no longer loves me.”

“Dearest . . .” My mother clutched my hands to her breast. “Dearest Judeth, James shall love you wherever he is. He loved you more than anything.”

“Not enough to stay alive,” I whispered. “He didn’t love me enough to stay here. He didn’t love me enough to protect himself. He didn’t love me enough to keep his promise and to take us—“ I stopped, realizing what I had been about to say.

“He was going to run away with you.” My mother touched my face. “I thought as much.”

“You’re not angry?” I asked.

“This place is no longer safe. He realized that long before we—your father and I did.” She took a breath, then reached into the folds of her cloak and pulled out a woven satchel.

“Run away, Judeth,” she said.

“What do you mean?” I choked.

She pressed the satchel into my hands. “There’s a boat,” she told me in a hurried whisper. “A boat is hidden a few yards from here. It will take you to Kora. Then you can take a ship to wherever you wish to go.”

She took my hand and pulled me to the back of the grieving crowd. People parted to make way for us, then knitted together to hide us from view.

“Mother,” I stopped her, digging my heels into the hard-packed sand. “Mother, what are you saying? You don’t really wish for me to leave, do you?”

“I’m getting you away from here, Judith.” She squeezed my cold fingers.

“Is she ready?” Another woman spoke to us from the dark. Harae. Beside her stood Sashada.

“She’s ready.”

“Mother, I don’t understand.” My lips trembled and my throat ached from the growing pressure to weep. She pulled me fiercely into her arms and whispered in my ear.

“You and Sashada are going to find that boat. There’s a man there; a man we can trust, who will take you to Kora. From there on you shall decide where to go. Don’t come back here, Judeth. Not until the war is over.”

“But—” I grasped at my mother’s sleeve as she pulled away, fear coursing through my body. I didn’t know how to leave. Not without James.

“You must go, Judeth,” she told me, prying my fingers off and giving me a push. “I love you, and I want to keep you safe, which you shall never be as long as you remain here. Hurry, before they notice us. We only have one chance.”

Somewhere inside my numb panic, I understood. But I couldn’t move.

“How shall I know—” I stopped, unsure of how to say what I wanted to say. How to convey every word I had into one.

“When the war is over—” Mother kissed my forehead. “When it’s safe to return, you make your way back and I shall be right here waiting for you. Or send word and we will find ou. Wherever you are, no matter what.”

“And Father—“

“He will be right here with me. I’ll say goodbye to him for you.”

It was what I needed to hear, and she knew it. The promise of comfort and safety, no matter how far in the future.

Sashada stood next to her mother, a blank expression on her face. I took her hand, and we began to walk. Away from our mothers. Away from our people. Away from any sense of familiarity and comfort.

I looked back only once, to see my mother watching us go. Harae had her arms wrapped around herself for comfort. Mother had her hands pressed against her mouth, and they just stood there.

“I love you,” I whispered, though I knew she wouldn’t hear it.

But she saw me, and she lifted her hands away and smiled, and I knew she understood.

At first, I was worried we wouldn’t find it, but then it appeared, looming out of the shadow of a large, overhanging beach tree. A man was there, and I stumbled to a halt; every possibility of who he could be turning over in my mind and screaming for me to drop Sashada’s hand and run.

And then he whispered for us to climb in, quickly, before time ran out, and I inhaled the salty air.

We had no choice but to trust or turn back.

I could not see his face, as we were hidden by darkness, but there was no hostility emitting from him. His accent was rough and inelegant.

He wasn’t Radkan.

I held tight to Sashada’s hand as the boat was pushed out onto the ocean, and her fingers were just as tight clamped around mine. Though we had hardly spoken, and the gods knew I had certainly spent enough time disliking her; here, alone, with only each other to remind us of the home we were leaving, we were the only comfort the other had.

The tiny pinpricks of candlelight far off in the distance faded as we were rowed farther and farther out on the ocean; all we could see of what we were leaving behind. Perhaps the last we would see of it. The future was an uncertain thing, and indifferent to two lives out of all the others that might suffer for its grand plan. We might die a hundred deaths before we ever saw the sands of our land again or felt the embrace of our mothers.

“Who did you lose?” I whispered to Sashada, because I had to ask something.

She didn’t look at me as she answered, “My . . . brother.”

We were silent after that.

“You might as well go to sleep,” the man said. His voice was deep and completely unfamiliar. “I won’t hurt you,” he promised. “We won’t reach Kora ‘till sometime around dawn tomorrow. You’ve still got a long journey ahead of you. Might as well get some rest.”

“I’ll stay up if it's all the same to you,” I said.

The dark outline of his shoulders shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Sashada fell asleep, whether from exhaustion, grief, fear, or maybe all three. I tucked her cloak more snuggly around her, and then I waited.

Despite the discomfort of the boat, I soon found my eyes struggling to remain open. I dipped my fingers into the freezing waters of the ocean, and pressed them, dripping wet to my black eyelids, but it did little to keep sleep at bay, or the sorrow.

Regardless of my determination to stay awake, within minutes I'd sunk into a dream, drifting farther and farther away from my worries as I was drifting farther and farther away from my home.