“You . . . you killed people?” Thora asked, stepping back from Marai.

Fear gripped her. If they kicked Marai out, she had no one left. She’d be alone for good.

“She was protecting the Nevandian prince,” said Keshel. “He paid for Marai’s services.”

“Why would he hire you?” Aresti asked, peering down at Marai as if she was an insignificant insect.

Marai glared at her. “I didn’t come here to tell you his story.”

No, she wouldn’t talk about Ruenen. Not yet. The wounds were still too raw. Her actions in that alley filled her with overwhelming shame. It hadn’t been half a day since she’d last seen him through the portal, surrounded by King Rayghast’s bounty hunters. And she’d run away, leaving him to their mercy.

Had Keshel seen that in his visions? Seen her call upon dark magic?

“I’m here because I . . .” Marai stopped. She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t bear to see the horror on Thora’s face.

I need you. I need to feel safe.

And then, a deeper chasm cracked wide within her.

I want to be somewhere Ruenen has never been. Here, I won’t see the memory of him in every tree, snowflake, or grain of sand.

Instead, she hung her head and stared at her gloved hands. When she looked back up, Keshel’s eyes were on her fingers.

“I’m sorry I stayed away so long,” she said to him first.

Keshel blinked in acknowledgment of her apology.

Kadiatu knelt in front of Marai and took her hands. “We’re all glad you’re back.”

Marai didn’t deserve her kindness. She was a murderer. A deserter. She’d brought danger into their home with the cursed ring and dark magic. Kadiatu might not even forgive her for that.

Aresti scrunched up her nose at Marai. “You need a bath. You smell terrible.”

“Let that salve soak in for an hour, then you can go to the river and wash,” said Thora, all business again. Whatever shock she’d shown was gone. “And be more careful out in the sun. You’re so fair, you’ll burn easily.”

“You can wear my hat,” Kadiatu said, and popped a silly wide-brimmed straw hat across Marai’s head. “I weaved it myself from the plants by the river.”

“It suits you,” said Aresti, grinning.

Marai whipped the hat off as Aresti and Leif exited the cave.

Raife approached, his eyes softening. He, like Keshel, could read Marai’s defeated, slumped stance. “How long do you intend to stay?” he asked.

Marai shrugged.

“You can stay as long as you need,” Thora said. No one expected Marai to stay forever. They knew she couldn’t be held down anymore, jailed like a prisoner in the desolate desert. Not after she’d seen so much of the world outside of the Badlands.

Marai was tired. So, so tired. Her shoulders sagged further as she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Raife and Thora exchanged glances wrought with worry.

“Come, you should lie down,” Thora said, tearing her eyes away from Raife, an ethereal warrior, bow and a quiver of arrows dangling from his back.

Keshel, at the other end of the room, sat on a rock with a book and his personal journal open in his lap, flipping through pages casually as if Marai’s arrival meant nothing.

Kadiatu looped her arm through Marai’s and lifted her to her feet. “You can sleep in my bed until we make one for you.”

“We’ll talk more when you’re rested,” came Keshel’s cool voice. A promise that the interrogation was far from over. He didn’t glance up from his book as Kadiatu led Marai to the bedroom, which was a small hollowed-out tunnel on the right.

Three cots had been erected next to a petite makeshift dresser made of red shale and wood from desert shrubbery. A lantern with a magical fae flame sat on top of the dresser. Kadiatu turned down the hemp blankets on one of the cots and fluffed up a thin pillow stuffed with feathers and grass. When they were little, Marai and Kadiatu had shared that cot. It was so strange to see them all as adults, to know how many years had passed and how much Marai had missed of their lives.

“Sleep,” said Kadiatu. “Come find us when you’re ready.” She left Marai alone in the tunnel, the soft scuff of her slippers disappearing.

Marai sat on the rickety cot. Exhaustion pulled at every muscle. Her heart ached, her mind whirled, but she shoved it all away.

Walls up, shields up, she told herself, the same chant she’d used throughout her life.

Slowly, pain shooting across her body, Marai lowered herself under the blankets, covering her head. She leaned into the pain. She deserved it. Marai let darkness take her as her weary soul settled down into sheets that smelled familiar and felt like sanctuary.

Chapter 2

Marai

“She’s clearly been through something harrowing.”

“How did she get here? She had no belongings. It takes days to cross that desert.”

“Does it matter? She’s here now, and she needs us.”

The voices were hushed. Marai opened her eyes from under the blankets and continued to listen to Thora and Raife’s conversation.

“Those injuries . . .” whispered Raife.

“Nothing more serious than a concussion, though, thank Lirr.” Thora sighed. “Being in that dungeon . . . she should’ve died.”

“Don’t press her. She’s still the same walled-up Marai.”

“You cannot blame me for being worried.”

“I don’t. I know how much you care,” Raife said, and Marai was surprised to hear the warmth in his tone. Not about her, but towards Thora. It reminded her of how Ruenen used to speak to her . . .

Marai slammed the door on those intrusive memories.

She didn’t want to get up. Every part of her yearned to stay covered in the blankets, to hide away from the world, and sleep forever. But Marai pulled the blankets from her head, startling Thora and Raife standing at the opening of the tunnel. They took a step apart, as if she’d caught them in a precarious position.

“How are you feeling?” Thora asked.

Marai’s muscles rebelled at every movement, but at least she felt less awful than before. “How long was I out?”

“Oh, hours. I was starting to worry that you’d miss dinner.”