As spring deepened, farmers began planting in their fields, and it became harder to find carts willing to take travelers.Ren’wyn and Fael took to walking, moving slowly along the road through endless, warm grasslands.
They stayed extra nights in towns—Ren’wyn selling her stock to local herbalists, healers, and apothecaries, while Fael helped patch roofs, build stone walls, and repair weapons at smithies.They continued their cover as siblings—it was an easier explanation for a people uncomfortable with unwed traveling companions.
“We have one week left before Amoya,” Fael estimated one evening as they packed.
Their journey had already stretched to four weeks, delayed by an extended stay to accommodate Ren’wyn’s period.When they were on the road again, the weather had grownhot.
At night, the biting flies and mosquitoes became unbearable, so they purchased a strange netted tent.Ren’wyn marveled at the bamboo skeleton over which they draped the fine netting that kept the insects out.They could only carry one, but it was large enough to fit both their bedrolls.
During the day, Ren’wyn prepared a mixture of olive oil, lemon verbena, and citronella, which they applied liberally to keep the bugsaway.
After a night of crisp, fresh weather, Ren’wyn and Fael rose early to the sound of distant thunder.Ren’wyn made a note to keep her cloak at the top of herpack.
The small stream near their campsite was delightfully cool, and Ren’wyn stripped down to rinse off, relishing the chance to get clean.She hummed as she dunked herself, wetting down her frizzy mane, her feet padding pleasantly over slippery pebbles.
When she emerged, a splash around the curve of the stream made her choke back a scream.The next sound was Fael’s pleased groan as he surfaced.Ren’wyn caught a glimpse of his dark hair through the raspberry brambles along thebank.
She couldn’t take her eyes off where he bathed.He was so close—yet excruciatingly far away.That confusing mixture of deep affection and heated attraction boiled in her chest.The cold of the stream helped, and she dipped under the water again before climbing onto the bank to dress.
A light rain began to fall, tapping gently on the leaves and her damp hair.She sighed, hoping they’d reach the next town soon so she could dry off indoors rather than in a cave or under their canvas blanket.Fishing around, she pulled her cloak free of herpack.
The rain picked up as she cleaned their cookware, rolled up their sleeping gear, and packed thetent.
She didn’t hear the muted press of boots on the wet earth.
Bent over the packs, placing everything in its spot, Ren’wyn felt a hand clamp down on her upper arm and yank her upright.
A tall imperial soldier leered ather.
“What have we here?”he sneered.
Her stomach churned as his gaze lingered on her chest.
She needed Fael—now.Ren’wyn sucked in a breath and screamed.
The soldier backhanded her.Her voice cracked as pain bloomed across her face, her eyes filling with tears.
A savage punch to the gut stole her breath.She doubled over as the soldier fisted her arm and hair, dragging her toward the road through shrubs that whipped her face.Choking on sobs, pain stabbed in her ribs, her face, her scalp.
Her power—she needed her power.But she couldn’t catch her breath.
A regiment crowded the road ahead.The soldier flung her onto the muddy ground in front ofthem.
Rain pounded in the open clearing, cold and hard.Breath misted in front of the soldiers—a cruel mockery of the power her fear and pain had chasedaway.
“A little fun?”her captor suggested, grinning.Dark laughter rippled through the men—fifteen, maybe twenty ofthem.
Fael, where are you?Where is my magic?
A booted kick to her side sent a searing jolt of pain through her ribs, and she shrieked.The soldier’s cruel laugh echoed in her ears as he yanked her head back by her hair, her neck exposed.Rocks dug into her knees through her dress.
“What’re you doing out here, little whore?”he asked, his breath hot against herface.
Sobs paralyzed her as he pulled harder, and she screamed again—her scalp felt like it was being tornaway.
Through her tears, she saw another soldier approach, twirling a dagger between his fingers.
“Who’s first?”he laughed, pressing the cold blade against the top of her dress.
