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Jade turned, moving to leave, when Alora’s resolve finally snapped. The water basin flew across the tent, aimed directly at the entrance in front of Jade, and collided with perfect accuracy.

Steaming-hot water soaked the opening, splashing beads onto Jade’s cloak before the metal basin clanged outside.

“I demand to know where you’ve taken me and why!”

Jade swung around on her feet, drawing her sword. “Bitch!” she cursed and steadied the sword’s edge against Alora’s neck. Her enraged green eyes were like daggers into the soul. “You’d be wise to cull your emotions. If you wish to remain in the stench of tonight, then I don’t give a shit. Try that with me again and I’ll rip your fucking heart out.”

The painful reminder that she was a prisoner wasn’t nearly as bad as Jade’s boot that speared Alora’s gut, throwing her back onto the thin cot.

She grimaced in pain, clutching her stomach, then glared up at Jade, who hovered over her.

“There's a guard outside. Don’t get any more ideas.” Crimson twisted behind Jade’s body as she stormed out. Her voice, muffled by the distance, hissed through the night as it trailed away, “Move that damn tree trunk away from the fucking fire.”

And then only the crackling pops of bursting and flaming wood danced in Alora’s ears.

Alone. She was finally alone.

But alone where? With whom? Alora looked around, one hand clenching her aching stomach. There wasn’t much to defend herself with. Not even her powers, though amateur at best, could help her. The weight of the world pressed heavily on her chest as she looked down at her hands. Moving her fingers, the memory of what it felt like to have her powers blistering through her veins ensnared her.

“Why hasn’t it returned?” Alora whispered as she gazed into her rotating palm. She twisted her hand and aimed for the tent wall. Closing her eyes, she called to the depths within her.

Nothing.

What is happening?Her hands began to shake. She grabbed her palm and squeezed as she pulled it into her sternum, shivering at the foreign chill of her skin. Never in her life had the warmth of her fire living on her skin abandoned her.

Eyes brimming with tears, she looked up as if to find the sky through the canvas, pleading to the stars.Please. Please don’t do this to me again.

The heaviness crashed. Shoulders no longer strong enough to carry the weight. Her throat tightened with each labored breath, and the realization hit her like a fall from a cliff.

She had escaped one hell.

Only to be thrown into another.

Alora sat on the cot, rubbing her cold hands. Warm tears spilled down her cheeks. She pulled her feet onto the cot, bending her knees into her chest before her arms squeezed around her legs.

For the first time all night, she was alone. No one was touching her, hunting her, no one commanded anything of her.

Utterly alone.

Even the darkness offered little comfort as it—the voice inside her mind—whispered,Everything will be alright. I have you now.

Each sound rippedher from slumber. Every boot scrape against dirt, smoke-induced coughs, the crackling of fire, even the chirping of night-bugs kicked her heart into a lurch, causing her mind to wildly hallucinate.

Was that the ocean she heard? Or a blazing wind that didn’t shake the canvas?

At one point, she moved the bedside table in front of the entrance. It wouldn’t prevent anyone from entering, but it would allow her time to prepare a defensive measure. She knew this diversion well. Many times, she had poised a piece of dawnwood furniture in front of Kaine’s bedroom door. Especially on nights when he would return smelling of wine … and Taryn.

It had been some time since she’d heard footsteps and movement outside her tent. If Jade was to be believed, there would’ve been guards watching all morning. Strangely enough, no footsteps had ever wandered close, and no one came to ascertain her status or pull her to inevitable doom.

Perhaps that’s where the false sense of hope billowed from when her sore legs swung over the cot edge and planted softly on the dirt below.

Her boots glided to the entrance without a sound, just as she’d practiced numerous times throughout the night. Only this time, accompanied by shaking hands and a heartbeat that Telldaira most likely could hear, she gripped the canvas entrance.

Her breath slowed, for fear it would arouse attention.

Then she pulled back the canvas with two fingers, enough to steal a glimpse without alarm. Expecting to see dawn, instead, the camp appeared darker than when she arrived. Maybe she had slept much longer, sleeping through the entire day and waking to the night.

Embers from a fire glowed in a stone ring. Tents were darkened around her as if every soul in camp slept, and?—