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“Or I will take myself,” I spit. “Tell me your name, so I can relay it to him.”

That startles him to action. He isn’t gentle, but my womanhood apparently makes me less of a threat, so he isn’t violent. Whether he knows of my existence is questionable. He won’t know what I can do. My father liked to keep that our little secret.

We approach a sledge tied to two antelope. He keeps me between his arms and whips the animals forward. I grip the front of the sledge to stay upright, surprised at how awake I am. I force my rigid back to soften so the bumps in the ground don’t crack it. My fingernails dig into the wood. So easy. I’ve been running nearly eight years, and it’sso easyto go back. I merely had to wait for the last place I had found refuge to reject me and for my father to come to me.

Oh, Azmar.That lump returns to my throat, and stars above, I hate it.

We ride too long. I don’t even see campfires until I’m nearly on top of them. The army, or at least this section of it, has erected canvas walls to help block the light, and their fires sit at the base of dusty holes. I’m not surprised to see so many awake. In the blistering heat, it’s easier to travel by night. They may have only recently settled down to camp. The scout stops just outside the site, and I duck under his arm and walk into it.

“Stop right—” He reaches for me.

I spin around and slam my fear into him. He stumbles back. My pulse picks up, as it always does when I use my ability, but my anger flares so hot I barely notice the rest.

I wheel around and march through the camp. It isn’t hard to guess where my father is. Three large tents occupy its south side. One of them is lit. My father is either scheming in that one or sleeping in one of the others.

I don’t go unnoticed. Men—those still awake—stand, confused, ready to stop me, to call out to me, to draw their weapons. But I am impatient, and I am furious. I will not waste time on them.

Gooseflesh rises on my arms and back as I press trepidation into everyone who gets within six feet of me. They hesitate, they retreat, they reach for their weapons but do not strike. I’m only a woman, after all. But their rapid hearts tell them otherwise.

They part to either side of me, opening a straight path for that tent. A soldier mans the door. I send him backpedaling, like I’m a demon from hell itself, and tear aside the tent flap.

Seven men within. Conversation stops. I was right: my father is here. It’s a shock to see his face again, but it’s a shock somewhere outside my body, something I’ll dream about tonight but am unable to feel now. He has new lines around his mouth and forehead, the latter of which deepen when he finds my face. I’ve never seen him so stupefied before. It makes me smile.

“Hello, Father.” I let the tent flap fall behind me. “I’ve decided to come home.”

My father and the men horseshoed around him stare at me like a phantom. I think my father forgot what I look like. Then again, Iwouldappear different to him. I hadn’t yet come into my full height when I’d run. I was still a child. I blossomed into a woman in Terysos. My faceisn’t as round as it once was. My hair is longer and bleached from so many days beneath the harsh sun.

But recognize he does. He schools his face—carefully, one muscle twitch at a time—so familiar, it’s like the last eight years never were. He lifts his chin, straightens his shoulders.

“Calia, my dear.” He speaks with both confusion and suspicion. “What an unexpected delight.” He gestures to two men, and they push past me outside, likely to see if I brought anything or anyone with me. With my sudden arrival, my father doesn’t know what to suspect. And he hates that.

He clears his throat, regaining a practiced calm with every breath. “I’ve been searching for you.”

I raise my chin to match his. Is our eye level even? “I know.”

His lip twitches. “Where have you been?”

I shouldn’t be surprised to be interrogated. “Terysos.”

“Lie.” He grasps the table before him. I glance to see if there’s a map on it—my father always loved to use maps like game boards, planning his conquests—but find only an open ledger, too far away for me to read. “Half the people here are from Terysos.” He tilts his heads to his companions, as though I hadn’t noticed them.

“Are they, now?” I have very little time to gain my father’s trust. I have to give him anything I can spare. Easy facts, half-truths, flattery. “But I was in Terysos. How else could I have found your army?” Half-truth. Iwasin Terysos. When I was fourteen. Now for a fact. “But before that, I was in Cagmar.”

“Cagmar?” one of the men repeats, like he’s tasted something strange.

My father’s brow shoots up once more. “Surely you jest.”

“Not at all.” I take another step into the room. Look around like it interests me, giving myself time to think. All tactics my father inadvertently taught me. Will he recognize them? “They keep humans as pets, just like you do.”

The twelve-year-old me would throw up at the blatancy of my words. My anger fuels them, a dull simmer, but very much alive. Ihaverun from my father a very long time. I caused him trouble. If I were to be perfectly compliant, he would suspect me more than he does already.

With a single gesture, he dismisses the rest of the men, who scrutinize me as they slowly wind their way out. My father says, “Come immediately if you hear any sort of struggle.”

Ah, there he is. Cautious. Wise. He hasn’t forgotten why he wants me. He remembers what I am. What I can do.

He bides his time until we’re alone. The tent flap settles, and he steps around the table, strolls to my side, and seizes me by my hair.

I’m right. My eyes are level with his, until he wrenches my head to the side.