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Hugging my knees to my chest, I rock back and forth. Whispering to myself, I attempt to quiet the cries, cupping my hands over my ears. But the screams don’t fade.

I blink through the blurriness of sleep.

By now, the screams should have waned.

A bell rings out, and I shoot out of bed. The screamsarereal. Shoving boots onto my naked legs, I snatch my satchel and sword. I slip out of my room and shiver, my nightgown not providing much warmth against the frigid night air.

Several groups of shadows scatter throughout the camp: screaming, shouting, and crashing. I press myself back against the wall of my room, holding my breath, and tightening my grip around my sword. Another alarm cries out from the outlook tower, ringing out across the chaos.

I have to get to Daeja.

Slipping behind my building, I race for the western wall and the forest beyond.

“Daeja, we’re being attacked. I’m coming to you.”

“Two leggers?”Panic draws the bond between us tight. “I’m coming.”

“No! Stay where you are. I’ll be there—”

“We have to find out where their vials are stocked,” a voice calls from the other side of a tent.

Marge should be in her own room this late at night. But the possibility of her still being in the healer’s quadrant, defenseless and vulnerable, pulls me to a screeching halt. If she’s killed, it would alleviate any risk of her turning us in. It would essentially solve our problems.

But I can’t.

I can’t do it.

I have to warn her.

“Hold on, Daeja. I have to make a quick detour, and then I’ll be there.”

She grumbles her protest but quiets.

I cut a shorter path to the healer’s quadrant and slip inside. Burning candles cast a soft amber glow in the room, and Marge hunches over the counter, pouring liquid into a glass vial.

She spins toward me, eyes squinting. “What are you doing here this late—”

“Shhh!” I hiss and blow out the candles in a single breath. Covering her mouth, I rip her into my chest, and the vial in her hands falls to the ground and shatters. Pulling her back from the counter, I shift us both into the farthest corner of the room. She tears my hand off her mouth, and the door swings wide open. Three men enter, weapons held ready as they scan the room, their gazes snagging on the soft smoke rising from the extinguished candles before finally reaching us.

“Daeja, I need you to fly as fast and as far north as you can. Once you pass the mountain range, you’ll be free.”

“What? I’m not leaving without you!”

“Grab her,” one of the men says.

The other two thunder toward us, their eyes trained and weapons angled in our direction.

I step forward and shove Marge behind me, unsheathing my sword.

She stumbles. “My staff, Katerina.”

Her staff is across the room, beyond the two men advancing, and leaning against the counter. Clearly, she should retire. She must have lost her godsdamn mind to imply such a thing. Does this woman really believe in me enough that she thinks we’ll be walking out of this alive? That she'll actually need her staff once I’m done with these three?

If I make it twenty-two seconds before I die, I’ll consider it a massive success on my part.

The men sweep toward us, too close for comfort, and I do everything my body and mind screams at me not to do. I lift my sword, readying my arm with all of the strength I could ever possess.

I fuckingchargethem.