Brand rode in the back of a rickety cart, tailbone bumping, knees knocking, clothes reeking of rotten vegetables, and he was grateful. He and Keela bounced and jolted down the narrow path together, a kindly farmer sitting at the driver's seat, leading his faithful pack of malnourished donkeys towards providence.

It was dark, which had been the norm for such a long time Brand wondered if he'd ever seen the sun again. The dense woods towered high on both sides of the narrow track, cold mist slithering between the eves like ghostly serpents. A snowstorm had blown in late last night, dusting the ground with a fresh coat of white powder.

Brand winced as a hard jolt sent fresh pain shooting up his backside, tossing Keela against him in the process. Soft flesh prodded against his arm.

"Gah," Keela hissed at the driver. "Can you try and miss the potholes for once?"

The old farmer glanced over his shoulder, scraggy beard and wrinkled cheeks twitched into a frown.

"You reckon I should stop and let you two travel the road yourselves then? Keep it up, witch and I'll leave you in a ditch rather than in Spald like we agreed."

"Big talk coming from a man who begged me to save his whelps from hunger not two winters past. Or are you too proud to lose your donkeys over your own wife and children?"

The old farmer spat and looked away, the argument seemingly over.

Brand wanted to spit as well. The sour smell of cabbage left a thin film of grease on his tongue, and yet his mouth felt impossibly dry, the heat in his ears burning hotter than a star. He didn't want to look at Keela, to stare at her like some idiot, but she was so close now, closer than she'd ever been before, and his mind kept replaying the scene at the riverbank all those days ago, water dribbling down her chin and into the folds of her loose, blue robe.

"How'd you help his family, anyhow?" Brand asked, desperate to focus on anything other than robes. "Do you have some power over the animals in this land as well?"

"Don't be silly," Keela said playfully as she nestled beside him. "I'm not some princess in a story book, Cinnis. I fed his children the same way I fed you. I went to the forest, and I brought them some food. Because someone couldn't be arsed." She shot a hard look towards the driver, who spat his reply onto the cold, hard ground.

The muscles in Brand's neck tensed up as he recalled his own dinner from way ago. The horrible screams, the way its head lay limp and twisted in Keela's grip, one horn completely snapped off. A cold chill ran through him, hands trembling, little fragments of gold gleaming beneath his fingertips. With a gentle pop, one came loose, tumbling between the boards, a tiny pinprick of blood the only clue of its escape.

"It is rather cold, isn't it?" Keela leaned in closer, scooping up one the grubby blankets close by and wrapping it around herself. "Here, come warm up beside me. You look pale as a ghost."

Easier said than done, Brand thought, as the witch's flesh felt colder than a glacier that existed, the burning chill of her touch easily cutting through his winter coat. She shifted up one arm, the sleeve of her robe falling down slightly, revealing a hollow divot of collarbone and one slender shoulder.

Brand tried to ignore it, tried to look away, but he found himself staring.

Unlike Elba, who was all corded muscle and sharp angles, Keela possessed a hidden sturdiness to her, as if her body were made of stone beneath all that fine, pale flesh. She was young like Tergrid too, but where the rebel girl was smooth of limb and brimming with dexterous grace, hers was filled with soft curves that hid a surprising swiftness.

"Goes to show you," Keela said as they sat together awkwardly. "You can prevent a man's family from starving, work tooth and nail to protect his people from the horrors of the world, and they'll still never be satisfied. It's like leading a thirsty donkey to water, and it still refusing to drink. What a stubborn ass." She said the last part at the driver again, and this time he merely sank his head down till his ears and his shoulders were practically friends.

"That's why people like us need to stick together," she continued, sliding one arm around Brand and pulling him in close, close enough that he could smell her breath, a sweet, heady scent that made his mouth mysteriously water.

"People like us?" Brand asked, trying desperately to focus on anything else besides her scent and failing miserably all the same.

"Those touched by the Wyrd," Keela explained. "Those born with the power to do amazing things in this world. You and I are the only ones who can truly appreciate the gifts given to us. Everyone else wants to fear us, or drive us out, or believe we should serve them as their personal soothsayers, courtly advisors, or the stars forbid, as fodder for their armies."

The witch eyed Brand rather curiously. "You wouldn't happen to know about such things, would you, Cinnis?"

Indeed, Brand did know. He knew what people like him did with even a smidge of real power. The Stelecasters enslaved an entire city with it, turning whole populations into slaves, and forcing a dying race to mine the mountains and create their metal monstrosities.

And then they all died. Slaughtered down to a man. In the end, it was their own scheming that killed them. Power was the reason for Brand's exile. Power was the reason why he was even here in Danic to begin with. If it were up to him, he'd have wished to have been born a cobbler's son instead.

There was no power in making shoes, but at the very least people still liked you for our craft.

"Aye," Brand said, voice feeling a bit rough for some odd reason. "I suppose I do."

Keela smiled and snuggled in closer, wrapping herself around Brand's right arm, making the whole of it go uncomfortably numb. "You've been quiet ever since we left Torm. Is everything all right? Did one of my girls say something to you? They can mean well, but sometimes they have the sensibilities of house flies, I swear."

"No!" Brand said, a little too aggressively. "No, Glamma was amazing. She," he paused, remembering how thoughtful she'd been that night, listening to him and asking questions, like he was an actual person, someone worth listening to, someone who actually mattered.

"She was amazing," he breathed.

"I would surely hope so. I spent a fair amount of coin to make sure of it."

And it would have been the best night of his life, Brand thought, had the dream not come soon after. He still remembered it. Clear as day. Everything had felt so real. The cat, the old woman, the cold, white mask as it burned its words into his mind.

She's lying...lying...lying.

There was no doubt in his mind who the old woman was in his dreams. He'd heard rumors of it amidst the higher ranking guardsmen, of how the Empress kept her Vangen in line, always watching, even from a thousand leagues away. But he had heard other rumors too, and he found himself stuck between who to trust and who to believe.

Trapped between two equally hungry predators, keen to devour him whole.

"Cinnis? Cinnis, are you even listening?"

Brand jumped as Keela pressed a finger to his cheek, cold fire burning at his skin. "Sorry," he said as he snapped back to reality. "I'm just...tired is all. Glamma kept me up all night practically."

Keela stared at him for a moment before smiling, although her eyes remained the same. "Of course. She has that way with most men. It's why I chose her. Enough to keep up with a young man's vigor."

Brand swallowed, unable to look her in the eye. "Hah, of course. And I am...quite the vigorous young man."

The driver snorted in his seat.

"Well," Keela said as she stared out towards the haunting woodland. "We'll need you in top form if we're to succeed in our mission. Why don't you take a nap before we reach Spald. It might do you some good."

Brand winced as they hit a deep pothole, his spine practically wedging itself into his cranium. "That might be a tad difficult, all things considered."

"I'll talk to the driver. See if we can't guide the donkeys over smoother ground. Get some rest, Cinnis." Keela slinked out of the foul smelling blanket and tucked Brand in neatly, a smidge of warmth slowly returning to his fingers. She hobbled over the railing and plopped down beside the farmer, disappearing from view.

Brand huddled up against the cart, rubbing life back into his freezing body and wondering if he could even sleep at a time like this. His mind whirled over the events of the past few days, his betrayal against the Vangen, his want to see his mother, and the terrible need creeping inside him.

The need to see more than just Keela's collarbone.

He'd read about it in a book once. Men his age were expected to have these types of feelings for the opposite sex, or even the same sex on some occasion. The author had used the word crush to describe such a desire, as it was known to grip itself around one's heart, driving men to pursue after interests like carrots on a stick.

Brand realized, both in surprise and in horror, that he'd felt this way before. Both with Tergrid, and with some shame, with Elba as well. With Tergrid it was easy to see why. She'd listened to him in the same way Glamma had, eyes wide and shining with wonder at the little metal pantomime he'd made for her. And to be honest, he also liked the way she challenged him sometimes, lips parting into a fierce grin as she egged him on.

For Elba, however, it was more complicated. She'd been there when he'd needed her most. When he'd locked himself in his room and had nearly starved to death. She'd forced him back out into the sun, forced soup down his weak stomach, and when worst came to worst, she'd forced him to remember that he was actually a person, instead of the tool he'd been forced to believe he was for so long.

And now there was Keela, a deceitful spider he could not help but stare in wonder at, mesmerized by the web she spun, knowing the venom she possessed beneath all that beauty could kill him on the spot if he wasn't careful.

The three of them whirled about in his mind, and just like playing chess with his father all those years ago, he was making all the wrong moves again.

Siege.

Brand sensed the presence before he heard it, like the snap of a trout in a fishing hook. Seconds later he heard the plodding of feet, fast, too fast, too gainly to be anything besides human. Seconds later the cart jostled slightly, a muted scream cut short over the hollow crunch of bone.

It took everything Brand had not to yelp, memories of the dead deer fresh in his mind. The cart jostled as someone was hauled off, the loud thud of a body being tossed, and then the slight creak as someone new sat down in the driver's seat. A crack of leather, and the donkey's continued on.

"You certainly took your time." Keela said, voice low and dripping with poison.

"There were a few complications back in Middlefort." A new voice, deep and growling, but resoundingly obedient. A wolf kept on a short leash and desperately wanting escape. "The Imperials you intercepted back at the border tower are still alive."

"This changes nothing. What about Fenris? What about Loken?"

"My agents say your brother is currently in Varden right now, but the Forsworn boy isn't with him anymore."

"Is he heading back to the capital?"

"I don't believe so. None of my sources have spotted him taking any of the north roads, and I doubt he's crossing through the woods by foot. Doesn't have the instinct in him."

Keela didn't say anything, prompting Brand to peek beneath his blanket. The man sitting beside Keela was huge in comparison to her, lanky black hair hanging off his shoulders.

"The Prophecy," the witch muttered after some time. "Loken is trying to force Fenris to remember again. If he gets his memories back, he'll be nigh impossible to control."

"What should we do?" For such a big man, the man sounded like he was practically pleading with Keela, the way a dog whines at its master's feet.

"Monitor the roads around Holsted. Search for Fenris high and low, even if you have to comb through the tunnels to make sure. He cannot reach Loken or the capital. He's already compromised enough as it is."

"Aye, miss." The man was quiet for a while before he asked. "And...what of the boy? Can he truly be trusted? Is he still under your control?"

Brand felt his heart leap into his throat. Were they talking about him?

"That is my concern," Keela snapped at him. "Not yours. You focus on keeping Fenris from reaching Loken, and I will focus on making sure the boy remains compliant."

"Feels like he's more trouble than he's worth," the big man whined. "Someone else manipulates his strings. I can smell it on him."

"That is my concern." Keela repeated slowly, as if trying to explain the most basic concept to her most incompetent student. "Besides, I have everything already planned out. By the time we reach Himlum, he'll be eating out of the palm of my hand."

Brand frowned as he sank back down into the cart, pulled the blanket over him, mind racing over what he'd heard. The crush he'd felt for Keela slowly became a squeezing vice around his heart as her words settled inside him, igniting an old ember within.

The one Cinnis had failed to stamp out.

***