The people of Keir give us unabashed attention on the short walk to Summus Aspen's quarters. The streets are filled with blatant stares and awed lips, all matching our stride. I don't think I will ever enjoy the feeling of so many eyes on me. It makes me want to shrink into my skin, and disappear without anyone noticing. Sol's presence alone is keeping me from becoming immobile as a statue. Her husband, Eli, walks beside her.

When I awoke this morning, I found the man who hugged Sol last night at our arrival sitting at the dining room table, sipping on a steaming mug of breakfast tea. A blush rose to my cheeks when he introduced himself. Apparently, Eli returned home last night after I was asleep. Embarrassed at not connecting the two, I slipped into silence. That was, until Coen and Clive approached and talked me into eating a breakfast of delicious eggs and cornmeal, mixed with half-sweet-half-tart berries. I had never tasted anything like it in all of my eighteen years, but I was glad they made me try it. If there is one good thing about being the Outlands, it's the endless opportunities to experience things I had never even dreamed of.

We reach the doors of the building from last night where Sol reunited with her friends. My stomach is all twisted up with thoughts of what I will find inside. Sol takes Eli's hand, and he pulls her to his side, a support both physical and emotional.

I surprise myself by grasping the door handles myself, wrenching them open, almost eager to get it over with. The wooden door creaks as it did last night, and I catch a dizzying episode of deja vu. The anticipation is making me nauseous.

The conference tables are once again filled with advisors, but the air in the room is different from last night. The Outlander's faces are politic. The mood is so serious, I almost miss the man on the dias at the front of the room.

"Summus Aspen," Sol breathes.

Sitting tall on a throne of stone, the man inclines his head at our entry, his face an unreadable mask of stoicism.

"You've returned," he speaks, his voice echoing through the room. Everyone is silent as the wind, rapt. He peers at me boldly. "And you've brought a guest."

"I have," Sol says cautiously. She motions for me to step forward, and my stomach plummets. I didn't think I'd have to speak directly to him so soon. I clear my throat, giving me an extra second to organize my thoughts. I don't want to sound too accusatory, but I don't want to sound weak, either. I take a breath, and hope to not embarrass myself.

"I am from Herald. Three days ago, Outlanders breached our wall, engaged in combat with our military, and kidnapped a girl. I followed them into the Outlands, where I learned that your people are likely the ones who took my friend." I pause, attempting to gauge his reaction, but he doesn't allow any emotion to slip. "I am asking you to return her to me, so that we may be on our way."

Instead of feeling relief for getting through with my appeal, the knot my stomach tightens. Even worse than speaking to the Summus is waiting for his reply.

He regards me with a keen eye, dissecting every detail of my features. I feel my skin crawl where his eyes descend. The tension in my shoulders intensifies with my anxiety. I don't know how I've kept from collapsing under his gaze for so long.

"What is your name?" He asks, tone revealing nothing.

Uhh... "Sophie," I all but stammer. The corner of his mouth lifts.

Am I hallucinating, or did Summus Aspen just grin? I turn to Sol, her eyes narrowed conspicuously. What did she make of his reaction?

"You know of the Skinwalkers," he says, his face back to his serious character. It's not a question.

I nod anyway. "They're your enemy."

"They are everyone's enemy," he all but growls. Sitting back, he levels me with an intense look, a vigorous fire behind his eyes. "They prowl Natio. They hunt our game, and they hunt our people. Every year, our food stores shrink. Wildlife grow sparse. Villagers go missing."

Obviously, they are bad news for Outlanders, but I fail to see how their strife constitutes them being my enemy as well.

As if reading my mind, he continues.

"The Skinwalkers are the reason your wall was built."

I am shocked into speechlessness, his words jolting through me like lightning, electricity rousing my muscles. I have the strongest urge to pace.

That's ludicrous! He's got to be lying. I've never even heard of a Skinwalker before I came to the Outlands. The wall was built to keep Outlanders out. That's what we've always been taught.

Wasn't it?

It doesn't make sense. But at the same time, it does. If Skinwalkers are such a threat to these Outlanders, then it's just as logical that they were a threat to us, before the wall. Unfortunately, there's no way to know for sure. My mind was churning with a thousand questions.

"What does any of this have to do with Markee? Release her," I plead. "She can't help you!"

"No, perhaps not," the Summus ponders, pinning me with a frighteningly determined gaze. "But you can."

My heart almost stops beating. I don't want to get any deeper than I already am. I just want to get Markee and go home. Before I have a chance to refute his claim, to tell him that there's no way in this life, or the next, that I'm helping him, he beats me to the punch.

"I will release her on one condition."

My knees buckle at the ultimatum. How can I possibly make a deal with this man? Summus Aspen of Keir, Natio, the Outlands. What if this is the only chance Markee has to be free? No one else will come to her rescue. And if I refuse, what will happen to me?

There's a gleam in his eye that I don't like, and I know that whatever it is, I'll have to do it. If it's the only way to get Markee home, I will submit. He knows it, too, judging by the satisfaction in the depths of his olive eyes. A strange feeling comes over me.

"Fine," I breathe. "But I want to see her first."

◊ ◊ ◊

A couple of Summus Aspen's advisors lead me down a corridor. Sol stayed behind to speak to him in private. What I would give to be a fly on the wall in that room.

I hear her before I see her. Markee's voice bounces in the narrow passage, raising the hair on my arms. Her tone is full of sarcasm and spirit, hurling curses at some unknown figure. If I weren't so anxious right now, I'd probably laugh.

I pick up my pace, nearly running toward her voice. At the end of the hall, I turn the corner, and almost run into someone. It's the Outlander who took off with Markee!

My heart beats double-time. His arms are crossed over his chest, and there's a scowl on his face. Now that I'm close enough to get a good look at him, I notice how his shoulder-length black hair hides one of his eyes. His skin is a dark bronze and unwrinkled. He can't be more than twenty years old. Suddenly, the door he's standing in front of rattles, the occupant banging on the door from the inside.

"I know you're not deaf! Let me out, you giant of a man!"

Markee is here.

The man's gaze volleys between me and the advisors I left behind in my hurry. Without a word, he steps aside.

The second I turn the knob and hear the lock unclick, the door is wrenched open in front of me. Markee is standing in the doorway, ready to pounce. I watch as her angry features melt into shock, the wrinkle between her eyebrows becoming slack for a split second before knitting again in confusion.

"Sophie?"

I throw myself at her, my arms curling around her shoulders for a hug. After days of picking my way through the Outlands, encountering foreign land and people, I've finally made it to Markee.

Over her shoulder, I glimpse into her room. Half of me pictured her being kept in a dungeon, so I'm relieved to see humane accommodations, including a bed pushed up against one wall, a broad fireplace empty on another, and a plush rug covering the cold stone floor. There's even a small wooden table with a matching chair. I let out a small sigh.

"They went after you anyway, did they?" Markee squeezes me tight.

"I followed you," I begin. "As soon as that man grabbed you, I ran after you. Trailed him through the forest," I take a breath. "He took you past the wall, through a huge hole... and I followed you. Into the Outlands."

Markee pulls back and peers at me, disbelief in her features. I'm not sure if it's because she had accepted the fact that Herald wouldn't chase her down, or if she didn't think me capable of doing something so outrageous. Probably both.

"Tell me everything," she says, leading me to a soft pallet in her room.

Like water throwing itself off a cliff, a waterfall of words and emotion pours out of me. I tell her how I stumbled through the forest to Sol's doorstep. About her connection with Summus Aspen and how she's helped me here. I spill how terrified I was of the Outlanders, and how surprised I am at their lack of hostility.

"The Council is wrong about them, Markee," I whisper. She and I share a look of understanding. She hugs a pillow to her, sharing with me all that's happened since she arrived in Keir.

"They were asking me a bunch of questions... mostly about you." She tells me.

Me? Why would Summus Aspen want to know about me?

"They asked about your family. About Rhett." At her mention of my brother, my blood goes cold. They know about Rhett?

Of course they do. They stole him from us.

Markee stares at the wall, in thought, her hands squeezing the pillow's down. "But there was something I couldn't figure out," she glances at me from the corner of her eye. "How did they knew who you were? I had never mentioned you, or anyone from Herald." Goosebumps rise along my arms.

What?

"I figured maybe, if they knew who Rhett was, he was here, and he told them about you," she continues. "But then why would they need me? What use would they have for me, if all they wanted to know was about you?" She turns, and pierces me with a stare that halts my breath. My heart is thumping so hard, I can barely think over the rush of blood in my ears.

"I wasn't the one they wanted, Sophie. You were."