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I t was not long after Sindri had left that Jai realised he had been holding his breath. He let it out, releasing the fear he had hardly been able to stifle.

Beside him Feng shuffled his knees, his head bowed.

‘It’s okay,’ Jai whispered. ‘She’s gone now.’

Feng’s eyes flicked to the elders behind them, and gave a shake of his head, pressing a thin finger across the crease of his lips.

Only now, as he slightly raised his face, could Jai get a good look at him.

Feng looked a little older than Jai, perhaps in his late teens or early twenties, with dark, intelligent eyes that seemed to hold an unspoken sadness. His face was thin, with a hint of moustache dusting his upper lip. His hair, unlike the braids and adornments of Zayn and Sindri, was simply pulled back in a short ponytail, and his facial features seemed different than that of the other plainsmen, telling of mixed heritage. Something in his features that reminded him of the Phoenix emperor’s diplomats and traders that had rarely made the long journey to Leonid’s palace from the far east.

Jai studied Feng for a moment, wondering what thoughts lay behind that guarded gaze. He needed to tread carefully if he was to gain Feng’s trust, or perhaps even his help. Clearly, the man was as unwelcome a guest as he was.

‘Thank you for translating,’ Jai said, his voice soft. ‘Your High Imperial is very good. How did you learn to speak it so well?’

Again, Feng said nothing, instead standing and heading towards the light of the entrance. Jai followed, rubbing his wrists and aching ribs. He had long run out of mana, and had not had a chance yet to soulbreathe so he could heal – Jai had figured out pretty quickly that being strapped upside down to the back of a khiro was not conducive to soulbreathing.

Outside the tent, the vibrant pulse of the nomadic tribe’s everyday life thrummed around them. Men and women busied themselves at cooking fires, preparing meals with knives and pots, while children darted playfully among the tents, their laughter rising with the last of the day’s heat. Beyond this centre of activity, older men lingered at the edges of the camp, their presence an uneasy contrast to the familial atmosphere. Some gathered in circles, playing and laying bets on games of knucklebones, while others sat and stared into the distance, sipping from their horn flasks. All were clearly armed.

Most captivating of all were the khiroi, which grazed contentedly nearby. Their massive, shaggy forms moved with surprising grace, the curved horns atop their heads like masts in a fleet of ships. Jai was relieved to see Navi among them, her scarred, smaller frame and grey fur easily discernible amid the hulking beasts. The older youths of the village were gathered there, keeping watch, their eyes never ceasing to search the horizon.

This tapestry stood in stark contrast to the sterile halls of the imperial palace, and despite the fear coiling in his belly, Jai found the scene strangely comforting.

Feng led Jai to a quiet spot near the edge of the camp, where they could talk without being overheard. Beyond the circle of tents, Jai had to stop and take in the view.

It was a sea of green, stretching out from horizon to horizon. A moving sea, stirred by the eddies of the wind, blushed by the first hint of sunset.

Feng pulled at his sleeve, tugging him to sit amid the grass. Glancing back the way he came, he finally answered Jai’s earlier question.

‘Like yours, my father too was a plainsman,’ he said, his voice soft and distant, like a memory that had begun to fade. ‘But my mother was a trader from the far east. It was she who taught my sister and me your language, as well as her own tongue. I guess that’s why I was chosen to be your... minder.’

Jai could hear the bitterness in Feng’s voice, even if the young man tried to hide the pain in his eyes. It seemed that, like Jai, Feng was caught between two worlds, never truly belonging to either.

‘We ventured into the steppe to trade with my father’s people, and to avoid the Sabine tax collectors. He and my mother paid for it with their lives. My sister and I were traded back and forth, until we ended up with Sindri three years ago. I made myself useful enough to not be traded away once more, as they so often do.’

Jai recoiled, the story sullying the peaceful scene before him. It was all starting to make sense. Jai had gone from being a Sabine hostage... to that of his own people.

‘And your sister?’ Jai hardly dared ask.

‘Still here... for now.’

Feng did not meet his gaze, instead tugging at a strand of grass with his fingers.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jai said, finding no need to force sincerity. ‘I know what it’s like to not belong.’

Feng’s gaze met Jai’s, and for a moment, it seemed as if the walls between them were softening. But just as quickly, Feng’s expression closed off once more, and he looked away.

‘We should get you some food,’ Feng said abruptly, standing up and brushing the dirt from his clothes. ‘Come on, I’ll show you around the camp.’

Jai found it hard to focus, for he could sense Winter, still struggling against her bonds. She knew his own had been cut, but far from calming her, she was panicking that he would be taken away. Jai knew she would not rest until she laid eyes upon him, but also knew to not push his luck just yet in seeking her out.

He had but a moment to close his eyes, entering the half-trance that let him hear Winter more clearly.

Jai! Jai!

His name, his scent, his very soul. She was crying out for it. Yet he could offer her no lies to calm the hammering of her heart, let alone his own. Instead, he sought out the glimmer of hope buried deep within him, and offered it up to her like a salve, before the clamouring in his mind quelled to a gentler dread.

‘Hurry, before the light fades,’ Feng’s voice called from his retreating back.

As they walked through the camp, Jai took in every detail, trying to memorise the layout and the routines of the tribe.

The camp was alive with a harmonious blend of function, chaos and beauty, with plant-dyed tents of lilac and woad arranged in an orderly fashion around a central open area. This space seemed to serve as a gathering place for the tribe, for Jai could see people congregating to share meals, stories and laughter.

Most interesting of all was the symbol painted on each tent, and even stitched into the clothing of the villagers: a crossed pair of flowering lupins. That explained the purple everywhere.

The air was filled with the rich aroma of spices and herbs that he had only experienced before at the imperial palace’s most lavish feasts. The scent was enticing, a heady mixture of fragrances. There were aromas he couldn’t quite place, but knew were foreign to the Sabine cuisine he was accustomed to.

Curious, Jai was careful not to stare too long at those around him, even if they did not share the same qualms. Children pointed, giggling, at his hair, for it was far shorter than the long braids of every man and woman there, children included. He smiled at them, only for them to squeal and to run behind their mothers’ skirts.

Feng settled by the central campfire, and Jai was curious that the captive was handed a bowl of simmering stew without hesitation. Feng gave it to Jai, and then took one for himself. It seemed the prisoners here were treated well, at least. Sindri had been true to her word so far.

Jai took a tentative spoonful, and was surprised by the complex flavour. It was unlike anything he had tasted before, rich in spices, herbs and more. But even as he moaned with pleasure, his mouth began to burn.

Within moments, he was gasping like a beached fish – much to the amusement of those watching.

Jai lifted his chin defiantly, and spooned more into his mouth... only for him to splutter, as a fresh wave of heat hit home. Another bout of mirth followed, one man finding it so funny, he was bent over double.

‘Here,’ Feng said, passing Jai a drinking horn. ‘You caught one of the chillies. You should leave those in the pot.’

‘You... gave it... to me,’ he gasped.

Feng shrugged and nodded at the jug.

Jai took a deep swig... and gagged. For it was not water, but rather milk. Sweet, fat and acrid milk, with claggy lumps that coated his tongue and mouth.

‘Interesting taste, no?’ Feng asked, grinning as Jai handed it back with a foul face. ‘But worth it, right?’

And Jai wanted to disagree, but the heat in his mouth was soothed, and Jai found himself reaching back for it but a few seconds later. Feng nodded his approval as Jai took another sip.

‘Fermented khiroi milk,’ Feng said. ‘Sithian fuel, some call it. Most call it khymis . Not too much now, it’s strong.’

Jai raised a brow, and took another swig. Then spooned some more stew into his mouth, careful of what came with it. Surprisingly... it worked.

He survived the meal with the alternating heat and cool, until he was sated with a full belly and left with a pleasant buzz. That feeling was fleeting, though, his soulbound body processing the booze faster than he might have wished it.

He could have used a little numbness right now.

Despite Jai’s full belly, he felt uneasy. His eyes caught Zayn, the man watching him darkly with an entourage of beetle-browed men. Their gazes locked for a brief moment, and Zayn shook his head, his expression a mixture of contempt and disdain.

Sindri might have welcomed him, but her brother clearly did not like the fact that he was sitting among them.

And that he still had his ears.