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“How many of you are there?” Theron asked. “Where is your leader?”

Instead of translating, Zara asked,“Where are you from?”

The half-elf glanced up at her sharply, and she stiffened. But he didn’t answer.

“Are you Ardanian?”she asked.

Something in his expression changed minutely. She almost thought he was going to answer, but then he looked away.

She tried again.“Will you tell me your name?”

The silence stretched.

“You can tell me,”she said, lowering her voice.

When he said nothing, Theron motioned with one hand. “Naika.”

Naika stepped toward the half-elf on command, raising a hand that Zara knew was weaving magic for a spell. The half-elf stiffened. Naika put her hand on his shoulder, and magical energy crackled, slamming into him. He jolted, his entire body going rigid under the force of the attack. It went on for far longer than Zara would have expected, until he looked like he was going to lose consciousness.

“That’s enough,” Theron said finally.

Naika released him, and he slumped forward, gasping.

“Please say something,”Zara begged.

He lifted his head enough to look at her with hatred.“The Goddess blesses those who are merciful to the weak, does she not?”he sneered.

Theron straightened. “What was that? What did he say?”

“He said… He asked for mercy,” Zara lied, and the half-elf’s disgusted expression deepened. Not for the first time, she wondered if he could understand them.

Theron frowned. “I know this is difficult to watch, Zara, but you must not lie for him. If he wants mercy, let him find the humility to ask for it himself.”

Theron beckoned Naika forward again. Zara’s hand found the door behind her, and she quickly backed out of the room.

She bumped into Basira, who was hovering near the hallway as she rounded the corner into the common room. It was conspicuously empty that morning, except for Basira, Tahir, and Farhana. Farhana looked alarmed as faint sounds from the back room carried down the hallway. Tahir wordlessly grabbed the girl’s hand and took her outside.

“Do they do this often?” Zara asked.

“No,” Basira said, frowning. She picked up a broom that had been propped on the wall and continued sweeping. “This is a first.”

“But you are not going to put a stop to it?”

Basira paused. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again.

Zara fumed silently, going to the door. She grabbed her cloak off the hook on the wall—Theron’s cloak. It was warmer and less worn than her own, so she’d kept wearing it, even though she found the bright red color garish.

“He’s a night elf, Zara,” Basira said.

“I know,” Zara said, shutting the door behind her. She stood on the covered porch, looking out at the foggy mountains.

A small part of her had always held out hope that everything would become simpler when she finally found her way to Ardani. It had been comforting to imagine a place where she might fit in. A place that had been made for people like her, where she would not feel like an intruder or an outcast.

But this place was the opposite of simple, and she found little comfort here. She had finally met other people like her, and she found them disappointing.

Perhaps she was the problem. Perhaps Theron was right, and she’d learned too many strange customs in Kuda Varai to ever fit in with other humans. Perhaps there was no place in all of Heilune where she belonged.

But she still had her moral standards for herself, regardless of whether the Ardanians approved.