The brutal wind whips at my long hair as I stare into the distance, imagining what Hector must be going through right now. My chest throbs when I think that something bad could happen to him.
Starting from the left to the right, I scan the camp, looking for those black crows, but they’re not here. I bite the inside of my lip and search again.
I do not find them, of course. They belong to Hector, and if he’s not here, they’re not here.
As I head toward the center of the camp, the smell of fresh bread and stew wafts through the air, making my mouth water. I follow the scent and find myself in front of a group of women and older men huddled around a makeshift outdoor kitchen. They have concocted an enormous pot of stew, using vegetables and venison.
One of the women glances up and waves me over.
Tersah.
She’s alive!
“Would you like some food?” she asks, her tone warm.
“H-how?” The question wobbles out of me as the horror of that day seizes me. I exhale, willing those memories away, willing myself to be calm.
Shadows skim her features as her eyes spark with sadness. “Later, when we’re alone.”
I want an explanation right now. But I will not demand one, not when we’re surrounded by people who wouldn’t understand.
Instead, I sit on a rock, and Tersah serves me a bowl of steaming stew. My mouth waters with anticipation as I use one hand to anchor my hair against the gusts of wind, then use the other to scoop up a spoonful and savor the flavorful concoction.
The women and men continue to work as I eat. They move with efficiency, each one fulfilling a task that keeps the camp running smoothly. Some gather wood for the fires, others mend clothes and armor, while a few tend to the wounded warriors.
I finish my meal and return the empty bowl to Tersah. “Thank you.”
She sets the dirty bowl with a pile of other unwashed dishes and turns to me. “Will you come with me?”
I nod and follow her. We walk past the guards and into a tent near the center of the camp. The inside is dimly lit, but I make out various bottles lining the walls. A few shelves hold books and scrolls.
The Seer sits hunched over an oak table filled with parchment. She glances up and smiles as we enter.
“How did you escape?” I ask Tersah the moment the tent flap settles into place.
“I woke up right before the attack.” Her mouth trembles as she fiddles with her army of bracelets. “I only had time to flee.”
“You left us,” I whisper, the accusation thick in my voice.
“I watched from the safety of the forest, but there was nothing I could have done.” Her brows draw together as pain fills her words.
“But you left me,” I say again, my voice hoarse, choked as I think of Everly.
“What choice did I have? I don’t have powerful magic like you and Everly. I conjure flowers, and I have never wielded a sword.”
She’s right. In my heart, I know it, yet I hate remembering how helpless I was. How devastated. How guilty. I freed those slaves only to allow them to be burned as they slept. And now, I must live with the consequences of not waking sooner and saving Everly.
Oh, Evie, Evie.
A strong part of me wants to race from this tent, steal a horse, and charge after Jerrod, to find him, to slit his throat, and to rescue Everly. But that thought is futile and foolish. I would only get myself killed.
The Seer stands. “You are here now, and we will all work diligently to find Everly and bring her home.” She takes my hand and guides me to the table. “Please, sit.”
I obey her as her sister slides into a chair across from us.
“Tersah told me how she gave you the flowers she makes,” the Seer says.
“Yes.” The wind continues its relentless assault as it beats against the sides of the tent. I ignore it and hunch forward. “Why didn’t she make me flowers before?”
