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“There is a demonic spirit in him. That was what gave him the power to heal,” Zara said. She thought back to that night when she and Nero had seen Theron in Tahir’s workshop. He’d seemed possessed even back then. He’d not been himself. A demonic spirit would feed off his hatred and drive it to new heights.

“How do you know?” Crow asked Naika. “You saw this?”

Naika nodded again. It made sense. Mages could sense things normal folk could not. She would have been the first to notice a supernatural presence.

“But he was not always like this. This is a recent change—during the past few weeks?” Zara guessed. Naika nodded.

“Is it possible he does not know?” Crow said. “Does he really think this presence is Paladius?”

Another nod.

“My mother is a priestess,” Zara said. “She told me a little about demons. Demonic spirits are drawn to people who are filled with anger. The spirit feeds on the host’s emotions and gives them power in exchange.” Paladins were the perfect hosts, now that she thought about it. Someone like Theron would never suspect he could be hosting an evil entity. The Paladins thought themselves too holy for that.

“Then is it possible he’s innocent in all this?” Basira asked. “A demon made him commit these evil acts?”

“No,” Zara said. “The demon might have driven him further into madness, but it could not force him to do things he did not want to do already. It was the evil in himself that drew the demon in the first place.”

Tahir, who had been quiet until then, spoke up. “How does one kill someone with a demon inside them?”

Naika patted the sword strapped to her side.

“It’s as simple as that?” Crow asked. “Put a sword through him?”

“When the host dies, the spirit will leave, right?” Zara asked, and Naika nodded. “He is stronger than we thought, but he is still mortal.”

She was afraid to mention the other half of this equation: A demon spirit loosed from its host could try to take up residence elsewhere… like in the person who killed the original host. She liked to think that they were all good-hearted enough to resist possession, but how could she know for certain?

Zara herself was far from free of hate and anger. Quite the opposite.

“The Paladins always come back to the village between hunts,” Basira said. “They’ll be heading back there now.”

“Good,” Zara said. “Then we can meet them there.” She looked around at the villagers, and at the Varai sitting a short distance away. “We will all meet them. And we will deal with this. Are we agreed?”

After a moment, there were nods from the group.

A cautious, reluctant accord had been reached.

* * *

Zara couldn’t sleep.She paced in the snow as the others rested, waiting for night to fall. The village wasn’t far. As soon as darkness set in, they could move.

They’d planned everything out as much as they could. Crow was confident they would succeed.

Zara didn’t know what to think. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. But what occupied her thoughts most during those hours was Nero.

Theron had probably already killed him. That was the truth. She tried not to think about it, but she couldn’t lie to herself. Would she arrive there too late, only to find a corpse?

The world would be worse off without Nero, and so would she. The idea of losing him was so devastating that she could hardly stand it, and she had no one to speak to about her feelings. Nero was the only person besides her mothers who she’d ever shared those kinds of things with.

She looked around at the others. Most of them were sleeping restlessly in bedrolls or wrapped in blankets beneath trees or in patches of grass. Zara paced. Waiting for nightfall was frustrating. Every moment was more time for her to wonder what had happened to Nero. The waiting, the not-knowing, was killing her.

As the sun set, a warm hand touched her shoulder. “Did you not sleep at all?” Basira asked.

“I do not have the patience for sleep.”

“Not allowing yourself to rest won’t get you to him any faster.”

“I know. But I cannot sleep.”