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She recalled the marks she spotted on the witch’s neck, confident whoever bit her did not have her consent. Their laws forbade them from feeding off the unwilling, and the bishop would never have permitted such a crime. Only in extreme emergencies were exceptions made.

Abusing a helpless, shackled witch who had been promised sanctuary in The Council’s care was a moral crime. But was it sanctuary when the poor girl had been placed in bondage, tortured with fire, and held underwater? In the lightof day such practices seemed excruciatingly cruel.

Shame filled Adriel as she tried to justify her silence. Females were not permitted to interfere with council business. She would have been disciplined if she tried to interfere or speak on the witch’s behalf.

Juniper had committed crimes of her own, which was why she’d been placed in a cell. The Order justified her treatment by labeling it merciful because they spared her life. As accurate as all those pieces were, looking back on the whole picture provided a different view, one ripe with inhumane offenses and gross abuses of power.

The more removed Adriel became from The Order, the more extreme those events seemed. How had she just sat there? She should have intercepted and done something. But she’d done absolutely nothing, and guilt now clawed at her in a way that marked her partially responsible for those horrific crimes.

The woman was entitled to rage, yet she showed an inexplicable resilience Adriel could only admire. How did she compartmentalize her anger? It was there, but it also made room for other emotions. Was this how she survived the past few years? Most females would have broken, but the witch was solid—slightly cracked, perhaps—but somehow holding it together.

In the presence of Juniper’s strong spirit, it was easy to contrast their differences. Beliefs thatfemales should be gentle and obedient shifted the direction of Adriel’s life long ago.

In exchange for The Order’s protection, she and many other females allowed themselves to become less. The males held all the power.

After centuries of living such a sheltered life, fearful that her mate would one day find her, she became a shadow. Her potential was stunted like a rootbound plant in a small pot with nowhere to grow, and many of her natural disciplines were lost to disuse.

Was she truly only meant to be half of another’s soul? She always sensed she was capable of more, yet without a male, so many saw her as nothing at all. There was even a time when the elders tried to assign her to a husband to keep her on the right path in her mate’s absence. But she refused to be led and paid dearly for the little independence she gained.

Drawing back from such a dangerous thought, she frowned.

Centuries of indoctrination still filled her with nervous energy. Being outside of The Order placed her life in an unflattering light. Ashamed by her lack of independence, knowledge, and confidence, she considered how one might correct such inadequacies while Juniper displayed no such shortcomings.

The witch still wore the physical markings of her bondage, yet Adriel was the one shackled by oppression. The moment Juniper was free, she was free. Could Adriel say the same? Perhapsfreedom was so unknown that it was part of her fear, and ignorance was her greatest prison.

Mortified, she wondered what ingrained compliance still limited her now. She was as helpless as a domestic bird forced into the wild—defenseless, useless.

Tightness cinched her lungs as the world rushed by. It suddenly seemed so calculated.

She stayed and obeyed because she knew no other way to live. Her fear of the outside world worked in their favor, spreading like a disease from one generation to the next. The standards for trust and obedience were so ingrained that even the slightest ripple of rebellion could feel like a tsunami of an uprising. All the more reason why The Order demanded conformity.

Adriel had been told more than once not to make waves. Some families even shunned her simply because she cut her hair, and they did not want their daughters to be influenced by her misguided actions.

She clutched her chest, thinking of all the decisions made for her and how unprepared she was to face a future in the real world. Domesticated as a bird clipped at the wings, her abilities had been bound by bonnets and Anabaptist faith.

The noose tightened around her neck as she struggled to breathe. She was immortal but so far from feral that death seemed inevitable.

How was she going to survive this place? Every sight and sound was foreign. The speed at which people carried on frightened her. Shecouldn’t even catch her breath. It was all moving too fast. She was a helpless bird falling from the nest, plummeting to the earth with no plan or idea of how to survive out there on her own.

“Hey.” The music lowered. “Are you okay?”

She couldn’t do this. It was too much, and only a matter of time before Cerberus found her. She had centuries to sharpen her skills and hone her abilities, but she’d done nothing to prepare for this moment that she always knew would come.

“Adriel, look at me.”

The command of Juniper’s voice broke through her panic, and she glanced at her, tears of fear brimming in her eyes. How had they not broken her?

“Do you feel something? Is it him? Should I change directions?”

“No. No. Keep going.”

“What is it? You’re white as a ghost.”

Gasping through shallow breaths, she swallowed back the lump in her throat. “I just…got scared.”

Juniper’s eyes flared. “Why? What happened?”

“I…realized how little I know and… I’m so ignorant. I have no idea how to do this.”