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Captain Pasker’s stomach churned.

The rifles in his men’s hands shook.

“Steady,” Captain Pasker warned, but it did no good. One of the sailors popped off a shot, the bullet aimed true despite the man’s nerves. A woman in the front, about twenty steps away, staggered, her shoulder snapping back, the force of the blow causing her to stumble and fall on the steps. Her head smashed against the stone, an audible crack of her skull followed by the crunching sound of broken teeth.

The others around her kept moving, completely ignoring her body broken on the steps.

And then she stood back up.

The woman showed no pain. She opened her mouth and let the splintered teeth clatter to the ground. She ignored the skin that dangled over her broken skull. No blood poured from her wounds.

She just kept walking.

She was ten steps away now. Five.

“Fire!” Captain Pasker screamed. “Fire! Fire!”

The guns blossomed in flame and smoke around him as his men fired shot after shot. Many in the crowd staggered, but none cried out.

None fell.

The dead could not die.

ONE

Nedra

SIX MONTHS AGO

I opened myeyes at the exact same moment my sister did. A grin spread across her face, followed by a flash of sadness.

“It’s going to be okay,” I told her, sitting up in bed.

Ernesta flopped over in her own bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m happy for you, Nedra.” I raised an eyebrow. “Iam,” she insisted. “It’s just going to be strange here without you.”

I swung my legs over the side of my bed, my knee brushing the edge of my trunk, packed with almost all my clothing and the mementos I couldn’t leave behind. I took off my nightshirt and threw it at Nessie—it was one of hers, after all—then slipped into the tunic and leggings I’d set aside to wear today.

“Ugh, how can you move so fast?” Ernesta groaned. She melted out of bed and let her head thunk on the doorframe as she rooted around in our wardrobe, now much emptier without my clothes taking up space. She withdrew a dark blouse and an olive skirt, a combination that would make me look drab. Ernesta never looked anything less than glowing, even with her hair mussed from sleep and her eyes half-closed.

I glanced down at my own clothes. We were twins, and yet somehow we never looked the same.

I left Nessie to finish getting ready and followed the scent of bacon into the kitchen, where my mother stood over the stove.

“Nedra!” Mama exclaimed, sidling around the table and hugging me with the arm that still held a spatula. “Are you excited?”

Through the window, I could see Papa loading up the cart he used to sell books, but which today would carry me away.

“I think so?” I said. My stomach churned, but even though Mama slid a plate of fried eggs, a biscuit, and three strips of bacon over to me, I realized that it wasn’t hunger that ached me.

Mama made Nessie’s plate—no biscuit and extra bacon—and placed it beside black coffee already poured and cooling. She squeezed my shoulder, her hand slipping around my neck to readjust my necklace. “You’ll be fine,” she whispered. I couldn’t help but doubt her.

Doubt myself.

Ernesta came in, stealing a piece of my bacon before turning to Mama and chatting excitedly about plans to meet Kava, the shoemaker’s apprentice.

As Nessie rattled on, I watched our father through the window. Papa stood outside, checking the straps on the mule and inspecting the cart, going over the same old routine but with a scowl on his face, his eyes blazing.

He didn’t want me to go.